#especially when you know it could have gone differently
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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 13)
*Series taglist is closed.
angst, fluff, smut
Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.
Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.
Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11 > Part 12
General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)
Specific Warnings: SA trauma recovery and boundary setting, recovering from malnourishment, jealousy, hard dom/sub sexual dynamics, dirty talk, rough sex with anal penetration and breath play, mental infidelity (morally grey since packs have a different view of relationships and exclusivity, but characters are feeling guilty about their thoughts)
____
Namjoon takes the white towel from Hoseok’s hand, motioning for the older wolf to sit on the bed and let him dry his hair. He hums as he massages his packmate’s scalp through the towel, smiling at how cute Hoseok looks when he’s relaxed like this. It’s not just the way his eyes flutter, but everything else. It’s only been a few days since he’s been eating proper meals, but that—and the fancy vitamin supplements you’ve been giving him—have been making visible progress in fighting his malnourishment. His face is no longer sunken in and colorless, and his hair has gotten some of its shine back as well.
There are still moments where everything feels dizzy and weird, as his body relearns to enjoy eating, but overall, Hoseok is in a much better place with food.
“You’re getting your glow back.”
The wolf smiles, feeling his almost dry hair, “Feeling a lot better these days.”
Namjoon pulls away from drying to face Hoseok, fingers gently stroking the wolf’s cheek.
“Tae and Jimin told me about the conversation they had with you. I told the others as well. If you say it’s okay, then I’m going to assume it is. I’m trusting you to set your own boundaries, you know that right?”
It’s moments like these where Namjoon shines the brightest in Hoseok’s eyes. Moments where he knows exactly what to say.
“I am okay, I promise. Thank you for trusting me.” This conversation could have gone a different way, and Hoseok was bracing himself for how frustrating it could’ve been.
But Namjoon knows the difference between leading his pack and infantilizing them, and he’s never for a second thought of Hoseok as incapable of making his own decisions. It’s just, most of the time, the wolves want him to make these decisions instead. It makes them feel safe and cared for when an Alpha does all the thinking.
A gentle knock on the open doorframe interrupts the moment, with both heads turning towards you.
“Just the two I wanted to talk to. Can I come in?”
Hoseok nods immediately, while Namjoon nervously goes along with it. He still doesn’t know how to be around you after realizing the extent of his crush. It feels wrong to look at someone else’s girlfriend with the way he looks at you. Especially not when he’s taken himself.
Hence the way he looks everywhere but at you when you sit in front of them.
“I have a proposition.”
Namjoon can’t help the little chuckle that comes out, endeared by how you sound like you’re leading a boardroom negotiation right now.
Your eyes narrow, looking at him with a pout.
“Sorry, you just looked cute.”
The words leave his mouth faster than he processes what he’s said.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Did I really just say that out loud?
The blush on his cheeks is violent red. You don’t seem phased, though, as you laugh it off.
“Hobi, you better hold onto your Alpha before I steal him.”
Namjoon knows it’s nothing more than a joke to you, but the words have him shifting uncomfortably in seat.
Hoseok obliviously smiles, “You can try Y/N, but our Alpha is too head over heels over us for that to ever happen.”
The Alpha gives a strained smile. Of course, nothing could ever tear him away from his packmates—but that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty for what he’s feeling towards you.
“Fair enough. Okay, back to my proposition.”
You hand Namjoon a manilla folder, with the name “Cha Mi-Suk” over it.
“Cha Mi-Suk?”
“She’s a psychiatrist who also provides psychotherapy, and she’s agreed to work with Hoseok—if that’s okay with the two of you. Assuming I’m supposed to ask you both. Or is it just a conversation between Hoseok and I? Or do I need to ask the whole pack. Sorry I’m not--” you can’t help going on a tangent and tripping over your own words.
This whole hierarchy thing was confusing and new, and you wanted to make sure you were doing it right. On one hand, it feels condescending towards Hoseok to have to ask Namjoon’s permission. However, not asking Namjoon feels like you’re dismissing his authority over them. They don’t teach you this stuff in business school.
“Relax Y/N. This is okay.” Namjoon reassures, “Hobi prefers I make these kinds of decisions for him.”
Hoseok nods, peeking at the papers as the other wolf flips through them.
“But how did you get someone to agree to this? Isn’t it illegal?”
Yes, it very much is illegal. Hybrids are only allowed “therapy” in state-sanctioned facilities like adoption centers, where the government can keep the extent of it under supervision. Designed to gaslight and manipulate hybrids until they bottle the trauma down enough to get adopted, rather than working to help them in any meaningful way. It’s not rocket science to see why private practices aren’t allowed: that would mean giving the hybrids a voice, and possibilities of therapists empathizing with them.
Which is why you were as careful as possible while looking into this for the past few days, all with the help of your boyfriend.
“It’s going to be risky to even ask, but I think Cha Mi-Suk is our best shot if we’re proceeding.” Yoongi had said this morning, over the phone.
“I’ll ask.”
“No, let me. You’ve never broken the law before, Y/N. It’s best to keep your hands clean.”
“I can afford to be in trouble. You can’t. And I know I’ve been a stickler for the law, but I don’t think I’ll regret breaking this one. Not when it’s so cruel.”
You remembered Mi-Suk from one of the parties you’d attended in the past, mother to the CEO of a start-up you had helped get on its feet. She would’ve been forgettable if not for the little scene she had caused during dinner—drinking one too many glasses of champagne and reprimanding another guest for being sleazy towards their fox hybrid.
It was an unusual scene at one those events, someone actually defending a hybrid…something you wished you were brave enough to do back then, without caring of what anyone would say or think about you.
You had found her admirable in that moment.
Thankfully, you and Yoongi’s hunches were right, and it took very little convincing (and a lot of money) to get her on board.
“You’re right, it is illegal. That’s why it’ll have to be a secret. It won’t be on any official records, and she’ll never meet him in person. If we go through with it, Yoongi and I will set up a secure private video chat that he can use for weekly sessions.”
Namjoon nods along, scanning all of her information and credentials with a protective instinct.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this? Breaking the law for us?”
“If it means Hobi can sleep a little better at night, I’m willing to do anything.”
The Alpha can’t help the way his heart flutters when he hears that. How can he hold himself back when you talk as if his pack is your own? You’re really not making this easy for him.
Hoseok’s eyes have stars in them, finally seeing a glimmer of hope for the future.
“It’s okay with me,” Namjoon concludes, “I think it’d be good for you, pup. What do you think?”
The wolf nods at lightning speed, “I’ll give anything a try! Thank you Alpha! Thank you Y/N!”
___
Yoongi comes home in the evening, singing to himself as he takes his shoes off. It’s hard to keep his tune, though, when there’s a constant soft thud coming from one of the rooms. He follows the sound to your library, where a determined blonde wolf is trying to fix one of the side tables.
“You’re going to split the wood if you hammer the screw that hard.”
Jin jumps up, too lost in concentration to register Yoongi’s cologne fill the room.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Yoongi joins the wolf on the floor, sitting a little too close for Jin to maintain composure. His cologne is inescapable now. A blended scent of maple and chestnut that makes the wolf feel both calm and nervous.
“Can I help?”
Jin nods, handing the hammer over while subconsciously licking his lips. There’s just something about Yoongi that he can’t help but be drawn to…an aura of confidence that’s never domineering—quiet, subtle, yet commanding. It tugs at his heartstrings in ways that’s usually only reserved for his pack.
Even now, he can’t help but want to watch this sight for hours: the way the man rolls up his sleeves and juts his lips out in concentration.
And how he knows just the right pressure to put on the nail…
…the way he shakes his hair out of his eyes.
…and, the cherry on top of the cake: his fucking fingers.
Long and narrow and so goddamn pretty wrapped around that hammer.
They’d probably look just as pretty inside of--
Jin shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of it.
A mix of lust, guilt, and five hundred other emotions he can’t quite name yet all tornado in the pit of his stomach.
Can’t stay here. Can’t be near him right now.
All the alarm bells ring, and the wolf’s body language changes from too stiff to a jittery mess in seconds.
“I—uh—I remembered there’s something I have to do.” Is the most he can muster before almost running out, leaving a confused Yoongi to finish up the table by himself.
The wolf darts straight to where the smell of oranges is the strongest—the scent of his Alpha to replace the one of Yoongi’s cologne. Leading him straight to the bathroom of your home gym. Namjoon’s stripped down to his underwear, getting ready for a post-workout shower, when he gets ambushed with a hug.
“Hi to you too.” The wolf laughs, wrapping his arms around the welcomed intruder.
But then he notices something weird: Jin never hugs Namjoon when he’s all sweaty, so something was definitely off, “Is something wrong, hyung?”
“I need to feel you. Inside of me. And I need to feel it now because I’m going insane.”
Whatever Namjoon was expecting…this was not it. His underwear suddenly feels a lot tighter.
“Okay, that’s the hottest thing I’ve heard in a while, but something’s clearly up…”
Jin doesn’t skip a beat to confess, doesn’t even avoid eye contact as the words come out of his mouth.
“I think I just got turned on by Yoongi.”
Namjoon’s eyes nearly bulge out of his eye sockets.
“You think WHAT?”
Jin crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes to stare the younger wolf down.
“Hey, no judgement. Don’t act like you don’t have any feelings for Y/N.”
If the first statement wasn’t enough to destabilize him, this one knocked the wind right out of his body.
“H-how did you know?”
“You really think you can keep anything from me? I’m your first packmate. I can read your thoughts like they’re written on your forehead.”
Namjoon coughs, face hot and red. This isn’t a conversation he’d ever planned on having. The plan was simple: crush on you for a little while, get over it on his own, never let a single packmate know.
But now, as it lays out in the open, the guilt has him scrambling.
“I can explain…I…”
Jin waves a hand dismissively, “Hush. We can have a rational talk about this later. Right now, I’m telling you, my Alpha, that I was thinking about another man’s fingers inside of me. So, are you going to do something about that or should I keep imagining—”
All guilt and remorse fade away from Namjoon’s eyes, leaving half-lidded dark orbs in their stead. He doesn’t wait for his packmate to rile him up any further before grabbing the blonde by the waist and hoisting him onto the bathroom counter, quite literally ripping off his clothes from his body.
“Now this, this is what I needed” Jin smirks, claws lightly dragging along Namjoon’s bare back.
“God, you’re such a fucking brat.”
Just the word “brat” has the older man whining. It’s been a minute since he’s been called that. Been years since he acted like one. Ever since the youngest three came into the picture, he’d fallen into more of a dominant role in the bedroom, with their omegas being much more needy than his beta. Although they were all more human than wolf—to the point where only the Alpha distinction really mattered—there was still an unspoken shift when omega hybrids joined the pack. Partly a hormonal thing, but more societal. A beta is supposed to help their Alpha keep the omegas happy. That’s just how it’s always been. When it was just him and Hoseok with Namjoon, the betas could act however they wanted with their Alpha. But the moment Jimin first came into their lives, everything shifted. Suddenly, there was an omega in the picture. Then two. Then three.
And unlike Hoseok, who seemed to prefer giving care, it took Jin a little longer to fit into his new role. Granted, it wasn’t difficult at all—how could it be, when he adored the omegas to the moon and back? When it was instinct to dote on them? It wasn’t long before he grew to love their new dynamic, putting his all into spoiling the pups.
But now, as content as he is with his role in the pack, he can’t help the excitement that surges in his veins at being called a brat again. It makes him feel like that young little wolf he was all those years ago, at the bar where he first met Namjoon. He had spent the entire night pushing just the right buttons to get the Alpha riled up, knowing he’d be in for quite the lesson in the back alley afterwards. And he couldn’t have been more right.
The Jin and Namjoon of those days were fiery and hot and burned each other when skin touched skin. But as the burning passion replaced itself with quiet comfort, it seemed as if only the omegas’ scents could get Namjoon riled up in the same way.
Or so Jin thought. Because looking at his Alpha now, it’s as if the pheromones of fifty omegas are calling to him at the moment. All from a little jealousy.
“Same limits? And safeword?” Namjoon makes sure Jin is fully present in the moment, getting him to squeeze his hand as he answers.
Jin nods, “Same limits, red, and tap twice if I can’t speak.”
“Good boy. I’m not going to hold back.”
“I don’t want you to.”
Namjoon brings his face close to the beta’s neck, grazing his skin with the tips of his canines before whispering in the older man’s ear.
“If you think about him even once while I’m fucking you, I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for months. Is that clear?”
“Y-yes Alpha.”
With Jin’s clothes in a ripped up pile on the floor, the Alpha wastes no time in spreading his beta’s hole wide open, circling the puckered rim with his index finger. He laughs at how just this act gets the older wolf’s ears red in embarrassment.
“Fuck, you look so tight. You could pass as a virgin right now. But don’t worry, Alpha will make it fit.”
Every sinful word coming out of Namjoon’s mouth has Jin getting slicker by the second. But even as slick as he is, the first finger still causes him to jolt up, squirming at the intrusion.
His legs flail on both sides of Namjoon, unable to find footing on anything as he’s on the edge of the counter. The younger wolf decides to show a little mercy and push him back against the mirror, letting the soles of his feet find some balance.
It’s the only mercy Namjoon’s going to give, however, because his finger is sliding in and out of the man with unrelenting speed. And just when Jin’s tensing up a little less, body adjusting to the feeling, the second finger thrusts in with even more force.
“Still so tight. Gonna need three fingers to open you up.”
Jin shakes his head, “Can’t—fuck!—Can’t take three. Please, I’m too—ungh—tight.”
Namjoon uses his free hand to grab the wolf’s chin, demanding eye contact.
“Unless you say the safeword, only I decide how much you can take. Understood?”
“U-understood! Sorry Alpha!”
Contrasting his harsh tone, Namjoon’s eyes are dialed in on every movement Jin is making, fully aware of what his body language looks like when he’s at his limits—which isn’t right now.
No, right now he’s just being an absolute brat. And it’s Namjoon’s duty to make sure he fucks it out of him.
The third finger is especially brutal in the stretch, causing tears to pool around his eyes. It’s the best kind of pain, the kind that has him grow more and more slick—until the wetness is running down Namjoon’s hands and it feels like even four fingers could slide in easily. But a fourth never comes.
Instead, his hole is left empty and twitching as Namjoon slides down his own boxers—cock standing deliciously tall and dribbling pre-cum.
Jin closes his eyes, trying to take deep breaths to prepare for the intrusion, but even that luxury is taken from him. Because, before anything even goes near his hole again, the Alpha’s hand wraps around his throat—allowing just enough airflow to keep him conscience.
If Namjoon thought Jin was tight before, it’s nothing compared to now, when his restricted airways only make his hole clench even harder around nothing. It’s not just lust in the air, but a primal need to be as close as possible after three months of becoming strangers to each other’s bodies. Namjoon can’t have his mate forgetting the pleasure only he can give. Can’t have him thinking about any men outside of the pack just because he hasn’t provided his touch in a while.
He lines himself to the entrance, letting a deep growl escape his lips as the head pops in. The blonde’s eyes to widen to the size of saucers at the stretch, throat still too closed off to properly moan.
“Still good?”
Unable to speak, the beta signals a thumbs up sign, giving Namjoon the go ahead to keep pushing all the way in. Only when he’s bottomed out does he let go of Jin’s neck, opting to wrap around the man’s cock instead. Sounds of skin slapping get louder as Namjoon fully loses himself, reveling in the way his length is being squeezed.
The sound mixes effortlessly with Jin’s sultry moans—thankfully, the size of the mansion spares the sounds from blaring throughout the house.
Even if he wasn’t inside of him right now, this visual alone could drive Namjoon wild: his gorgeous packmate, with flushed cheeks and tightly shut eyes, chasing for an orgasm that’s just out of reach. It’s the kind of expression that makes him wish he was a full wolf—one that could give his mate a proper knot. Because god knows what Jin would’ve looked like getting knotted. The thought alone almost makes him lose it. But he calms himself down, mindful of his current mission: making sure the man in front of him is fucked utterly dumb.
“Who do you belong to?”
The wolf doesn’t—can’t—answer immediately, brain too wired from the cock drilling into him. But he manages to let out a whiny, barely intelligible “you.”
“Are you thinking of anyone else right now?”
Jin shakes his head no, almost violently. He barely knows where he is anymore, let alone any other name besides his Alpha’s. All that he can think about are the eight inches of pure bliss hitting against his prostate, and the big hand that’s sloppily stroking his length.
“Words, brat.”
“No! Only you! Only-ungh-you!”
It only takes a few more strokes for Jin to be pushed all the way over the edge, legs shaking as he rides his high, shooting strings of white on Namjoon’s chest in the process. The sight is all it takes for Namjoon’s orgasm to hit in tandem, all of his senses reaching their heights before disappearing entirely—until the only thing he can feel is the pleasure overtaking every nerve in his body. The two stay still for a moment, both fearing overstimulation from any movement as they stabilize their breaths.
It’s Jin who moves first, gently pushing the Alpha off of him. The two watch, mesmerized, at where they separate: the Alpha’s cum slowly leaking out onto the countertop. It’s so much cum.
“You’re lucky I’m back to feeling nice, or I would make you lick all of it up.”
Jin lets out an out-of-breath chuckle, body still leaned against the mirror, “I won’t waste a single drop next time. Promise.” The tiredness catches up to him, causing his eyes to close on their own as Namjoon cleans the mess.
“Come on baby, we should shower.”
“Too tired.”
“You don’t want to go out there all sticky and sweaty, do you?”
Jin whines for a moment, because the feeling of stickiness and sweat are definitely uncomfortable, but he also can’t feel his legs enough for a shower.
“Fine. But you have to carry me.”
Namjoon laughs while lifting the wolf up, letting him wrap his legs around his torso as he makes his way over to the stall. The warm water runs between both of their bodies, washing away every trace of the lewd acts that were just committed. Every trace except the smell of sex that lingers in the air, mixing with the orange and vanilla of the two hybrids. They stay like that for a while, hugging under the water as Namjoon hums a soft melody in Jin’s ear. Eventually, Namjoon does put the wolf down to properly wash him, supporting both of their body weights as the beta still can’t seem to stand.
“Was I too rough? It’s been so long…”
“You weren’t. I loved it. I love you.” Jin punctuates with a kiss, as deep and passionate as the first one they shared.
“I love you too. I’m sorry about Y/N.”
“And I’m sorry about Yoongi. I know you’re not his biggest fan.”
“So…where do we go from here?” It’s a rare moment, where Namjoon’s the one asking instead of answering. But the look on his face makes it clear that he really doesn’t know.
“We keep each other’s secret.”
Namjoon quirks up a brow as Jin further explains, “We keep it between us, manage our feelings, and the pack never has to know. I’m guessing that’s what you were planning on doing anyway, so just add me into it.”
Damn, Jin really did have him all figured out.
“Okay. We’ll keep it between us.”
Fool-proof plan, right?
____
A/N: Don't worry friends, Hobi was NOT listening to that filth. Baby was watching Netflix with Jimin on the other side of the mansion (after excitedly telling him about therapy <3)
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Sickness
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Summary: Jessie's just about to make her big debut with the Thorns and she insists on taking care of you even if it means she may get sick.
Warnings: None
A/N: In response to this request. I completely agree - Jessie would revel in taking care of her partner.
You winced as your alarm rang in your ears. You blindly pawed along the nightstand looking for your phone and turned off the grating sound with relief. You laid out on your back and frowned deeper. Your head was pounding. You inhaled deeply and quickly realized you were congested.
"Oh no."
You opened your eyes and saw light filtering in through the crack in the doorway to your ensuite bathroom; you heard the shower running. Jessie must've gone for a run already.
You forced yourself to sit up in bed and involuntarily winced once more as a sharp pang shot through your head at the movement. This wasn't good.
You cleared your throat, nearly coughing at how inflamed you discovered your throat to be. You got out of bed and made your way to the entryway of the new apartment you and Jessie shared. You'd taken possession a couple of days ago, and though a few boxes remained, you'd mostly unpacked and settled in. Neither of you being particularly materialistic made moving a much easier ordeal than it may have been otherwise.
You looked in the mirror that was freshly hung up and a low grumble emanated painfully from your throat. Though you looked okay for the most part, the bags under your eyes told a different story.
Your ears perked up as you heard the shower turn off and you rushed over to the kitchen, your mind scrambling to remember where you'd decided to store meds. You quickly found the bottle of painkillers and poured yourself a glass of water and hurriedly downed a couple of pills before tucking the bottle away to hide the evidence. You ignored how the pills went down like a couple of razor blades.
You were pouring more water when you heard Jessie pad into the hallway.
"Hey babe," she greeted.
You glanced up, working to rid yourself of the panicked feeling that still lingered. You smiled at her - a very easy feat when your eyes fell upon her in her sweats and a baggy t-shirt as she towel-dried her curly, wet hair. You cleared your throat as subtly as you could.
"Morning." To your relief, your voice sounded alright. For now.
"Did you sleep okay?" She asked as she crossed over to you with a hint of a frown on her face. "You were tossing and turning a lot."
"I'm sorry," you told her and she gave you a laugh.
"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry if you didn't sleep well," she said and wrapped her arms around you and leaned in to give you a kiss. You turned your head and her lips connected with your cheek. She pulled back with a discerning look.
"Everything okay?" She asked.
"Yeah, it's all good," you told her lightly as you removed yourself from her embrace and wandered over to the living room. You didn't know what you were doing, you just wanted to put as much space between you and her as possible. Her first day of training with the Thorns was tomorrow and the very last thing you wanted was for her to get sick.
You were reticent to tell her you were sick, too. Jessie was exceptionally thoughtful and caring, so if she knew you were sick, she would care for you even if it meant she'd get sick. You didn't want that in any case, but especially not with her being brand new on the team.
A mildly frustrated huff escaped you as you heard Jessie following you into the living room. You pointedly kept your back to her as you busied yourself studying one of your plants. You toyed with the leaves for a while and subtly shifted your gaze to the side, trying to peer at her as discretely as possible when you felt her hovering and not saying anything.
"I can book you a flight back home for a bit." Her voice was small, her words immediately pulling a deep frown out of you. You glanced over your shoulder at her in scrutiny, a low pang in your chest forming as you saw her standing somewhat dejected in the middle of the room.
"I know you came here just for me," she went on, her voice low as she tucked her hands into her pockets and looked up at you, her head hung slightly. "You left a lot behind. I don't take that for granted. I want to do whatever I can to make sure you're happy here. If you need to go back home more often or if I need to fly your friends or family out, I'm all for it. Whatever you need. I want you to be happy."
You turned around fully to face her. Sweet Jessie. Your beautiful, sweet, thoughtful Jessie. This is exactly why she was worth moving halfway around the world for. Your shoulders slumped as guilt crashed over you. You took in her sad, dark eyes and gave her a soft smile.
"Baby, I'm sorry. This," you gestured between here and the kitchen, "has nothing to do with any of that. I don't regret anything - I promise you. And I'm happy here with you. I know it won't always be easy, but we are solid - please know that." Her forehead was still creased in concern and you let out a small, embarrassed laugh. "I'm just being weird because I think I'm sick. I woke up with a pounding headache and my head's all congested, my throat hurts. And I do not want to get you sick."
You could visibly see the relief go through Jessie's body and she immediately took a couple large strides over to you. You immediately held up your hands and pressed against her chest as she tried to close the space between you.
"Babe! What did I just say?" You protested.
"I'll be fine!" She assured you as she pushed back and your half-hearted effort ceased. She held you tight and kissed your cheek. You indulged momentarily, wrapping your arms around her and leaning your head against hers. It always felt so warm and comforting in her arms.
You took a step back, putting your hands against her chest once more and gently pushing her back with a pointed look.
"That's all you get," you told her and she reluctantly let you push her back a couple of steps, her eyes not leaving yours.
"I'm going to take care of you," she told you in defiance and you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.
"This is why I didn't want to tell you."
"Why? Because I love my girlfriend and want to take care of her when she's sick? Well pardon me," she said dryly.
"Jessie," you pleaded, your voice rising in pitch. "This is serious. You're brand new on the team. You can't be sick right now."
She huffed and straightened her postured as she cocked her head at you. She contemplated her words for a few seconds before speaking.
"I understand what you're trying to do. But it's not necessary. I'm on a contract - I'm here for three years. People get sick - that's normal. I have lots of time to earn my place and make my mark here. If I did get sick - which I won't - it's not the end of the world if I miss a session or two."
You tutted in disapproval at her stubbornness. If you weren't so concerned for her, you'd be able to appreciate her sentiment more. Jessie - who was beyond dedicated to her sport, was actually willing to risk missing practice or even a game for you.
"I'm serious, Jess. Stay away. I'm going to sanitize things, and you keep to yourself and I'll do the same. I will be perfectly fine. I don't need you to take care of me."
She frowned at you, looking almost insulted.
"Well, I want to take care of you," came her rebuttal.
"Well I'm refusing," you countered, crossing your arms.
Jessie shook her head and mimicked your body language, folding her arms across her chest as well. When she spoke, her tone was unwavering.
"Listen, I know you're very independent. I know you're capable of taking care of yourself. But you're my girlfriend, my partner, love of my life, and I am taking care of you - end of story. So you are going to sit down on that couch," she pointed to it, but kept her eyes locked on you, "I am going to tuck you in, bring you food and drinks, we are going to watch movies all day and you are going to nap and get as much rest as you can. Understood?"
Any argument you had been formulating died on your lips. Jessie was rarely like this. She was such a good sport, always going with your ideas and whims and her family and friends made fun of her all the time - affectionately, of course - for it. You believe you heard the phrase, "You're so whipped" come up a few times.
You chewed the inside of your lip for a few seconds, refusing to break eye contact with her until you finally relented with a light scoff and roll of your eyes.
"Fine," you pouted. "But when you get in shit from your coach, don't tell me I didn't warn you."
Jessie simply grinned brightly at you and ushered you to the couch, setting you up with pillows right away. Soon she was ferrying items to and from before finally settling in with you. She pulled you against her so your head was resting on her chest as you watched TV together.
You'd be lying if you said you didn't love it.
-----
The next day, despite Jessie's efforts, you were feeling infinitely worse. She set you up on the couch in the morning and kneeled down in front of you, concern clear on her face.
"I don't want to leave you," she said, passively seeking your permission to stay with you.
"Go," you said, your voice now thick and hoarse. You turned your head into the couch and coughed. She immediately began rubbing your back.
"I can't leave you like this," she pouted.
"Go," you repeated, this time more adamant before continuing softly. "I want you to. Go blow them away. I'll be here when you get back."
She hummed deep in her throat, studying you for several moments before giving up with a light huff. She leaned in and kissed your forehead, bringing her hand up to cup your cheek and caress your cheekbone.
"I'll be home before you know it." She frowned at you before adding firmly, "Call me if anything comes up." You would normally roll your eyes at how overly attentive she was being - as much as you loved it - but you were so drained all you could do was close your eyes and nod.
"My baby," she said as she continued to caress your cheek. "I hate that I can't make you feel better."
You heard her get up and after a while you felt something being pushed into your hands. You slowly opened your eyes to see the little koala plushie she'd brought home for you from Australia.
"You hold him until I get home, okay?"
You whined against your will and clutched the plushie close to you, tucking your chin against it. You looked up and her lips were turned down in a sad smile as she watched you.
"I love you so much," she told you and leaned down to kiss you on the temple. "I'll be home as soon as I can."
"No," you whined further. "Do what you need to do. Don't rush home for me."
"I always rush home to you," she countered with an easy grin. You moaned in mild complaint.
"Why are you so good to me?" You pouted.
"Because I love you. And you deserve it," she told you readily as she swung her backpack over her shoulder.
"Mmm. I want cuddles when you get back," you continued to pout. She laughed.
"I'm going to bring you snacks and treats and then you'll get all the cuddles you want."
"Mmm," you whined again. "I'll miss you." She leaned down to lay one more kiss on your head.
"I'll miss you too. Now, get some rest. I'll be home soon."
#jessie fleming#jessie fleming x reader#jflem#canwnt#woso#woso x reader#woso community#woso imagine#portland thorns#canwnt x reader
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Radioapple Secret Marriage/Relationship au:
(They were married from the beginning but no one knows. This is extremely self indulgent cause no one else was making this.)
When Alastor fell into hell, he needed some time to get his bearings – understanding his strength as well as other things. And as soon as that was done he wreaked havoc.
(Lucifer's pov from now on)
Lucifer had heard of a new overlord. Someone murdering and making others suffer while broadcasting their screams on radio. And usually, he never bothered with this stuff, demons could be demons and he wasn't someone to care about a few suffering sinners.
But when he saw the fact that his daughter couldn't sleep because she was worrying about the demons – he let her listen to the radio once and they both listened in silence to the screams – and when he saw how depressed she had been, he decided to pay this "radio demon" a visit.
And for one, he hadn't expected the radio demon – Alastor, apparently – to be so... How do you put it? Kind, welcoming, motherly, accepting... Well, let's just say that Lucifer's day wasn't dull when talking to him.
Originally, he was supposed to have a 'talk' with Alastor (basically give him a beat down but let's not sweat the details). But as time went on he found himself enjoying their conversations, his little antics and his cooking were all amazing. Everything Alastor did would just brighten his day, especially since Lilith was in the process of separating Charlie from him so he'd just started losing his daughter and wife – who was probably going to ask for a divorce soon.
He opened up to Alastor and the demon was surprisingly good at giving advice (honestly, that demon was full of surprises). And despite the good advice, Lilith kept leaving and soon the divorce happened along with his complete loss of custody over Charlie.
He would've gone into a deep depression had it not been for Alastor checking in on him and making sure he was okay. And so they hung out more, Alastor would always make sure to give him some homemade food and he also always asked Lucifer if he was okay.
Lucifer knew he was a sinner, a cold blooded murderer, a cannibal and so on. But honestly, he had fallen head over heels for Alastor. Alastor, who was quite sweet if you found him at the right time. Alastor, who always pretended to be a bad person by pretending to have bad intentions. Alastor, who cares for and loves his mother dearly.
He found Alastor beautiful, every side of him.
And so, he inevitably confessed. With the hope that he wouldn't end out like the street rat whom Alastor saved – Box, or something like that (yes spelling mistake was intentional).
And he didn't. Alastor certainly didn't love him (he only said "I like you too" which sort of hurt Lucifer but he didn't really care much about the difference) but he did accept the confession. And with that Lucifer felt as if he was over the moon.
They did couple things – human couple things. Both of then were inexperienced but it was lucky that Alastor often studied others around him. So they did those things.
They hugged, kissed, they even held hands! Could you believe that? And with their fourth date came Alastor's actual confession. "I love you." Alastor finally trusted him enough to say that L word.
Of course most of their dates were done under disguises or they had private dates where no one could see them. And with time Alastor began to open up even more.
Lucifer heard about his abusive, neglectful father. His murderous tendencies. The way he always felt different, somehow. And he comforted Alastor about these things.
It was nice, since he loved Alastor's genuine smile.
And soon he proposed – or they both did. Lucifer considered it his win since the ring he got was much more beautiful than Alastor's. But Alastor's held more sentimental value (it was a ring his mother had left him before she died). So they decided to leave that one at a tie.
The ceremony was held in private. Lucifer didn't want his daughter nor his ex-wife to know of his quick moving on and Alastor didn't want people to know how soft he could be.
And they were just like any other married couple, just much much more healthier and loving. And for the matter, they barely fought. Those days were when they first met. The days when Alastor didn't trust him and Lucifer wanted to beat him up learn why the hell he broadcasted screams.
So when it had been their seventh year living together in private (Alastor temporarily stepped away from his 'job' to spend married life with Lucifer), Alastor decided it was time to get back into the loop. Lucifer was quite sad about this but Alastor assured he would always make sure to come back on weekends.
It was funny to see that one day Alastor was standing beside his daughter and treating her like his own. And it was hard to act like he hated the demon, especially when he loved him so much.
(For the record, this is Lucifer fell first AND harder and it is not very canonlike but who cares! Both of them are a happy cute couple who pretend to hate each other and cuddle when no one is watching.)
(I needed more wholesome aus but no one else would write them so I delivered this. Have a nice meal kids.)
👀
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Focus II
Salma Paralluelo x Reader
focus I
summary~ You move on, she doesn’t. spoiler, you don’t really move on.
your new normal was everything but fulfilling. This pointlessness cycle of living was eating you alive.
Driving to training, kicking a ball for a few hours and eating with teammates that didn’t even trust you with the ball. You didn’t have a place in the starting line-up anymore and everyone ignored you. You were becoming invisible, a nobody.
Days were especially hard when you were free. You didn’t go outside and no one was contacting you. You felt loneliness on a whole new level. When you had broken up with Salma, there were still people around you but now you’d scared them off. They didn’t know what to do with you anymore.
Real Madrid has been your home for far too long, and somewhere you knew that. Deep down knew you needed an extreme change. But you held on to this ideal idea with a firm grip.
Real Madrid wasn’t your home anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time now. And the team made that clear when they sat you down.
“Look, we just think you need a different challenge, a fresh start.” Olga said, a warm smile on her lips. “It’ll be better for you.” Misa rubbed your back soothingly.
You rolled you eyes at that and scoffed. “It’ll be better for us all.” Misa corrected herself this time. You heard agreement across the room. Clearly they had wanted this for a while now.
You were already out of their lives in their heads, they just needed you completely gone. Out of sight out of mind.
So you moved, it wasn’t like you had a choice in this. Man City was running low on defenders and payed the biggest transfer fee. From your sunny Spain to the rainy Manchester weather.
Stepping out of that warm sticky plane you felt your warm sweat turning your heated body cold. Refreshing. You needed to see this new chapter as a new beginning, another chance.
When Salma heard you left Real she was puzzled. No way you would’ve left your dream club just like that, with no fight. And what she had expected was confirmed.
The striker heard Lucy and Ona talk about the transfer. “Why did she leave? She loved Real with her whole heart, that was her home.” Lucy asked.
Ona sighed, “We all know it wasn’t going her way there, she was stuck. I think she might’ve just left because there wasn’t anyone to keep her here anymore, in Spain.” she explained.
It was silent for a moment before Lucy spoke again. “She was head over heals for her, wasn’t she.”
“I know, she still is. I spoke to Olga earlier, she said that she just wasn’t functioning anymore. She had to leave Spain.” the Spaniard said quietly.
Salma wasn’t aware of this. Why would you break up with her if you still loved her?
She wanted to talk to you. Tell you that she had wanted to keep your relationship more private, out of the spotlights. That she wanted you just for herself. But then you cut her off, you told her it was over. That you were done.
The days in Manchester went by just the same. It was hard and tough. Atleast you knew your team back in Spain, you barely know anyone here.
Salma kept being on your mind, it was hard to forget her. How could anyone forget her. She had a sparkle you hadn’t seen in anyone before. She lit up any room when she walked in and brought out the best in you.
So instead of hurting and torturing yourself any more you focused. Your mind was set. Football was it. Manchester City had an amazing season and you were ready to destroy the Champions League. This was your year.
And you held yourself onto that. You got through the groupstages. Ajax, Wolfsburg and Juventus were all beaten.
The first leg of the Quarter-Finals away had ended up in a 1-2 for your team. And at home you won with 3-0 against Bayern.
This meant a Semi Final against the prize holders, FC Barcelona Femení.
And somehow Salma was still wondering through your mind. She was still there and you were giving up on forgetting her, so you ignored her. Every single sign of her.
Salma wasn’t though. She had you in her mind for the last few weeks. The striker wanted to know what was going on. Why did you leave her. What did you see. What did you think. She just wanted to know.
Salma knew you weren’t going to answer if she called, so she didn’t. She wanted you to see her, to hear her.
That’s how you found her, drenched infront of your doorstep. A cocky smirk finding it’s place on her face.
“Couldn’t you just move to a warmer country.” she laughed.
The smile you had on before you opened the door had dropped. “Or just don’t go to England.” you said, tone flat. When Salma didn’t respond you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Well, see you tomorrow i guess.” you told her before closing your door.
“-wait. Mi amor, wait.” Salma reacted.
“Don’t call me ‘mi amor’. I’m not your love, Ona is.” you said coldly.
Salma’s face fell. “Wait.. what- she isn’t.” Your eyebrows furrowed at that. “Ona isn’t my girlfriend. Where did you hear th- no..” your lovers face was puzzled, she was thinking. “Mi vida, is that why you broke this off. You thought i cheated on you?” she asked you with a broken voice.
“Salma, it was all over the news. You texted me, you wanted to break up.” you told her.
“Amor i didn’t want to break up. I just wanted you. I wanted to keep our relationship out of the spotlight, to keep it to ourselves. I just wanted you.” Her voice had completely broken down to a soft whisper. “I wanted you just to myself.” she stepped towards you.
“Salma, i- i don’t know.” you sighed.
“Please, i just want to see you.” Salma breathed.
You let her in. There wasn’t much you had to say to her. She said she didn’t cheat and you had to take her on her word.
Maybe it was the hope in you. Or the desperation. But you believed her. You wanted to believe her, so so badly.
And when the game came around the next day, Salma had already disappeared. The morning flew by and you were sat in the dressingroom. The music was playing through the room and there were players dancing, singing, braiding hair and drawing, whatever kept them cool.
You checked your shoes, like always. Put your hair in a bun, like normal. You walked through the tunnel, like you had done all of your games. You looked at your opponent, as usual. You were playing a game against Barcelona, against the best, against Salma, like you had done a million times.
The game was hard, honestly any game was at this level. But the feelings were your biggest concern. This didn’t end well last time.
You got your confidence back when you passed a ball to Casparij, who gave a deep one back. You made a run for goal and shot. The ball flew through the air, and even with the best efforts of Paños, it went in. In the corner of your eye you saw the ball crossing the white line.
Your teammates ran towards you and you were attacked from all sides. It was chaos and it was the most at home you’ve felt since you joined the blue club.
But the game wasn’t over, Barça wasn’t done.
Aitana made a dangerous tackle, passed to ball to Graham. Caroline was unstoppable, everyone knew it. When she dribbled past a City defender and made a cross it was over. The ball landed perfectly onto the right foot of Paralluelo and into Keating’s goal.
She celebrated like she had done many times before, but only on El Clásico’s. She kissed her wrist, for you.
“Nunca hemos terminado, mi vida.” Salma winked.
A/N my next fic will be domestic because i love little love families 🤭 who should i write for?
#woso fanfics#woso community#woso x reader#barca femeni#man city women#salma paralluelo x reader#salma paralluelo#ona batlle#barca women#barca femini x reader
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Can be read as a continuation to my previous work about Gale, but can also be read independently.
Today had been a tiring day, especially for their de-facto leader, Gale thinks. The situation at the goblin village could have turned for the worse had you not smooth talked your way through.
And yet you’ve gone back to dueling the fire with your eyes again, he notes. However unlike last time, he chooses to stay put in his own corner of the camp.
Given his last attempt at light but stimulating conversation, he’s mostly sure that he will never do such a thing ever again. Lest he wants to feel the less than comfortable stares of everyone awake when he returns to his tent.
Alone and unaccompanied.
Doesn’t mean that he can’t observe you from here though. While he should be reading up on a rather interesting book he picked up from today’s skirmish, the pages haven’t been graced with his eyes quite nearly as much as your form.
Naturally, he doesn’t realize this until something, or rather someone, catches his attention.
Astarion.
Usually not one to leave his own comfortable area of the camp, it was surprising to see him choose to settle in at a bedroom nearer the fire.
To approach you in such a manner. Almost as if you were familiar with another.
“Which couldn’t be since you would have only met one another after the crash,” he reasons.
He makes a comment from his lax position on his bedroll. Opens the conversation with you the same way that he’s certain he did a few nights ago, and yet the response couldn’t be more different.
The action draws what looks to be an exasperated sigh from you, but Gale notices your eyes soften at the elf’s remark. You don’t turn to face him, but still respond while focusing on the camp’s light.
Astarion stands to be nearer to you, perhaps trying to convince you of something, as he slings an arm around your shoulder. Face, nearing yours. The thumb of his slung-over hand seemingly grazing the skin of your exposed collarbone, uncovered by the looser strings of your shirt.
Gale feels his jaw slacken as he watches this very scene unfold before him. The book, long forgotten as the strength in his arm wanes, almost dropping it. He feels his eyes bug out of his skull when he sees you place your hand on top the pale fellow’s in what he can only assume is an affectionate gesture.
He’ll admit, perhaps he wasn’t paying attention to you earlier in the days you reunited. With the way you were avoiding him, it seemed like you wanted him to forget you existed or pretend like you didn’t know each other.
But how could he?
How could he when you inspired him so?
How could he when your wit and creativity showed him more ways the weave could be practiced?
How could he when he knew that all your friends had always been more like Aatarion’s type, and that you’ve always seemed to avoid his?
He supposed he shouldn’t be be surprised then, if he claims to know you so well. It was inevitable that you would warm up to the elf so quickly. Alike in charm and nerve.
And if you still haven’t warmed up to the wizard in the years of study you shared, he doubts you ever will.
Ah, but where will all this conjecture get him? He’s still dealing with the loss of Mystra’s favor and it’s vicious consequences. What use would it be to watch like this?
He takes one last look at your joined hands before he sees you respond and heads in to his tent. Perhaps a bit of rest will help temper whatever wave of emotions it is that washes over him.
“Astarion.” You warn with your warmer hand atop his.
“Hm?”
You turn your head to look at him and you’re greeted by that self-aggrandizing smirk that always curls up on his face.
The sight makes you sigh. No answer to his earlier question will get you out of this.
Tricky bastard.
“Your fingers are cold.” He clicks his tongue at that, but removes himself from your form anyway. A catty, “you’re no fun” leaving his lips as he distances himself from you.
He smiles anyway and tilts his head to the side. Standing to rest all his weight on one leg, and waves you off with one hand.
“I’ll see you later, I’m sure.” You shakes your head at that and turn to leave.
“Good night Astarion.”
“Sweet dreams, dear mage.”
He’s convinced you enough to try.
#bg3 x reader#not proofread#I’m going to sleep now#gale dekarios x reader#gale dekarios x tav#Gale of Waterdeep#gale of waterdeep x tav#gale of waterdeep x reader#bg3 gale x reader#bg3 gale x tav#gale dekarios#gale x reader#gale x tav#gale bg3#bg3 gale
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𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬 | 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬
𓄌 Characters/pairings: Caranthir & Fëanor, hints at potential Caranthir x Turgon
𓄌 Synopsis: Fëanor offers to craft accessories for his sons to wear at the next Feast of Horns. Caranthir has what he believes to be an unusual request.
𓄌 Warnings: /
𓄌 Oneshot (~1.2k words)
Carnistir had both dreaded and looked forward to this moment, though the former outweighed the latter.
His father had announced that he would be crafting accessories for all of his sons for the next Feast of Horns, celebrating that the entire family would be in attendance for the first time, and promised that each of them could pick whatever they wanted and he would make it.
For most, if not all of his brothers, it was an easy choice and they knew exactly what they wanted, or so Carnistir believed at least, but for him, it was more difficult. Not the choice itself, if he was honest with himself — he had an idea what he wanted — but he grappled with it regardless and disliked the idea of having to explain himself to his father.
It wasn't Carnistir's first time participating in the Hunt. His brothers had dragged him along once before, with Tyelkormo in particular claiming that he couldn't miss it, and as was tradition for debutants, he had been among the Hunted. The greater battle had been with himself rather than the Hunters, finding himself strangely enchanted by the idea of being desired and pursued, while unable to admit it to anyone else and acting aloof to hide his inner turmoil.
In the end Carnistir had successfully hidden in the woods of Oromë — no small feat as he liked to think, especially with Ainur participating in the Hunt as well — and rejoined his brothers at the end of the night. Nobody had bothered to inquire about his whereabouts after his declaration that everything had gone well, and he preferred it that way. Even so, the aftermath had left him with a sour taste in his mouth, his mind ever wandering to all the possibilities he had denied himself out of pride, shame and, as much as he hated to admit it, cowardice.
But this Feast of Horns would be different. Carnistir had promised himself that it would.
And then he had also learned that Turukáno would be a Hunter.
I could hunt as well. Maybe alongside him, if he agrees to it.
Though perhaps I should be hunted instead to rectify my mistake. Any other choice would only be further cowardice.
Turukáno could hunt me. I think I would like it if he did.
But why would he? Especially if Findaráto joins in as well. And he most likely will.
Such was the back and forth between the two warring forces in Carnistir's mind, unfulfilled desire raging against what he believed was his better judgement, yet his perceived lack of courage and bravery was what eventually tipped the scales in favour of the former. He was a son of Fëanáro after all, he couldn't hide in a corner while his brothers participated in the Hunt.
Even so, choosing the Hunted meant that he would have to ask his father for a necklace or even a collar instead of horns or antlers, and Carnistir dreaded having such a conversation.
Thus he made his way to Fëanáro's forge reluctantly when Nerdanel told him that it was his turn. He announced himself with a short, sharp knock and entered in tandem with his father's invitation to come in.
Fëanáro was sitting at his workbench and bent over an elaborate sketch he was working on. A quick look confirmed that it was most likely Tyelkormo's gift, and Carnistir tried not to let his mien sour too much. Of course he's still busy with someone else.
"Ah, Moryo," his father greeted him and looked up with a smile. "Do you already know what you would like or do you want to take a few more minutes to think?"
"I am ready," Carnistir replied curtly. It hadn't escaped his notice that Fëanáro appeared to be in good spirits, and he was about to ruin it all; but it was too late for second guessing himself. A plan of action had been made, and he would stick to it, come what may.
"Very well. What are your ideas?" Fëanáro asked and finally reached for an empty sheet of paper to place on top of the sketch, ready to take notes.
"I want a collar and I don't want gold."
Silence fell between them for a brief moment.
"So you wish to join the Hunted?"
"Yes." Carnistir pressed his lips together, ready to defend his choice, but his father took notes without further inquiry.
"Do you know which materials you want instead if gold is not to your liking?" he then asked conversationally.
Carnistir gave a light shrug. He had thought of everything, every complaint or counterargument that might be brought against him for making what could be considered a strange choice for a Noldorin prince, but not the gift itself.
"Something practical," he said eventually.
Fëanáro smiled. "I hope you will allow me to craft a silver one then. I think it would look lovely on you."
"Fine by me."
More notes were added.
"And what kind of details and ornaments do you want? Maybe some jewels or gemstones?"
Another shrug. "Plain."
"You know you can choose freely, Moryo?"
"Yes." Picking up on the hint, Carnistir thought about it again. "Lots of people have little charms attached to their collars, like antlers or spear-tips or arrowheads. I think I would like that too."
"Anything in particular?"
"A dagger." Inspiration came spontaneously, but for once Carnistir allowed himself not to overthink it.
"And what about the gems?"
"No gems. They sparkle too much."
Fëanáro grinned at him. "Ah, I see. You don't want to make it too easy for the Hunters to spot you."
"Of course not."
"And you are right. A favour from one of the princes of the Noldor should not be won too easily after all." He wrote down more notes. "Anything else?"
"No." Carnistir paused for a moment, then added, "I leave the rest to you, Father."
"I shan't disappoint. If you like, you can have a look at my sketch in a few days — I will take some time to think about it."
He nodded. "Thank you."
They fell silent again, but no further words were needed. An unspoken understanding that the conversation had concluded hung between them, and Carnistir turned to leave.
On his way out, he spotted another sketch at the very edge of the workbench, slightly crumpled as if it had been hastily swept aside in favour of Fëanáro's tools and the other notes and sketches he had made. To his surprise, this one depicted a collar as well, not too dissimilar from what he had asked for and imagined for himself.
Unable to resist, he stopped and pointed at the sketch. "Someone else is joining the Hunted as well?"
Fëanáro looked up to meet his inquisitive gaze, and his eyes sparkled with the same sort of mischief Carnistir would normally see in Tyelkormo and the Ambarussar.
"That one is for me," he said, lips twitching as if he had to suppress a bout of laughter when he saw his son's shocked expression.
Carnistir left the forge without another word, his cheeks flushing bright red. He needed a moment to process what he had just learned, only to decide that he neither needed nor wanted to know the implications of Fëanáro's words regarding his parents' relationship.
Well, he thought to himself, if I was wrong about Father, maybe I was wrong about Turukáno as well and he may hunt me after all.
taglist: @blauerregen @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @saintstars @urwendii
#feastofhorns#caranthir#carnistir#feanor#fëanor#silmarillion#oneshot#silm fanfic#silmarillion fanfiction#cílil writes#my writing#again sorry i'm late
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OH ARTHUR BENNETT.. such a gorgeous and intriguing character. terribly burdened by a GRUESOME set of crimes, his light suffocated by a HEAVY century of GUILT. so tragic, so dark and broody, and yet PAINFULLY awkward in any social setting ever
#jrwi fanart#cw blood#jrwi show#jrwi suckening#arthur bennett#OUHH THIS ONE WAS SITTING IN MY WIPS FOR SO LOOOONGwhen i took it out there was mould on it :sob:#BUT i think i was able to fix it up okay#i keep seeing SO MANY MISTAKES RRAAAHHH BUT YOU DONT SEE THEM RIGHT?? THATS ONLY ME. RIGHT?? EXACTLY.#THE KEY IS TO SAY. AND REPEAT AFTER ME. 'FUUUCK IT WE BALL#so anyway. arthur bennett huh? grizzly says that arthur is reaal fuckin difficult to play. and i SUPER get that. i mean LOOK AT HIM..#grizz often needs a minute to think abt what hes gonna say in a way that matches w that Stoic Personality. which is FAIR but also that#ends up making way for awkward confrontations like: the lady in the parky lot. he took too long to answer and scared her away.& I LOVE THAT#arthur is tragic and sad and cool and stoic but hes ALSO awkward and silly and kinda dumb and short sighted. HE HAS COMPLEXITIES#I LOVE WHEN TTRPG CHARACTERS HAVE A GOOD SET OF SHORTCOMINGS. ESPECIALLY WHEN U FIND THEM ONLY AS U PLAY THEM.#I COULd go on and on saying the same things w different words abt arthurs intriguing and entertaining character but i shall spare u. for no#ILL ALSO MENTION HOW MUCH I LOVE HIS FLAVOR THO.. I LOVE TALL HOT BOY WHOS ONE W THE DARKNESS.. I REMEMBER WHEN HE FIRST MENTIONED THE#BADLUCK. N I WAS LIKE OOOHH THATS WHY HIS DESIGN IS SO COOL N CHAOTIC N ASYMMETRICAL. HES UNLUCKY!!! i love love love his design so much...#GRaaauruguguraguhhghghgh what else what else is there for me to spew on abt...i think im reachin a limit here..OH MAGNUS. i hope that#we get to know more abt how magnus and arthur met.. like How they became besties... ouuhh... I ALSO WANNA KNOW MORE ABT MARY DAVIS. LIKEHOW#he also apparently spent alotta time in a zone dominated by edward twilight? all he remembers is constant partying? I WANNA KNOW MORE..#i think i got room 4 one more ramble SO. THE ART PIECE.as i said its gone a lil stale BUT. im still very proud o the bits where hes allScar#I WANNA SEE HIM GET SCARYMORE. I like the idea of shadows solidifying to make him strange and eerie.like TEETH n CLAWS n SPINES n YESS#also the SILVER EYES.no1 does silver eyes like the show Claymore. they make em look so striking and eerie...i also like to think that#human arthur had deep beautiful brown eyes.just in my beaitufl heart.i mean look at him..i wanna cook him n eat him.ANYWAY#i think thats all my ramblin for this piece. now i gotta go cancel a single day i had ata hotel bc my work schedule change last minute FUCK#feel free to ramble in my tags aswell tho i read all of them and i chew on thenm and i love them so sos os mcuh
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Having s bit of a strange moment
#gamer txt.#ive been thinking a little too much recently when i know its not particularly helpful or enjoyable in any way#im not even sure what set me on this route of thinking about it so much#ive just been really really scared of death recently#its honestly kinda funny because ive been thinking about how much of a joy and a wonder life is so much and somehow didnt think about-#-how thats partially because its brief. its so beautiful and important because its fleeting. one day a life will end and nothing can ever-#-replace it. not perfectly anyway. it'll always be different and unique and youre so lucky to exist at the same time because one of you#-will be gone someday#but oddly enough i never actually think too in depth about death#and im realising again why i dont#because i am so scared#i almost wish i could force myself to be religious so i could have some kind of hope about it. not have to fear it maybe even welcome it#but argh. 's not easy#its especially strange though because ive comforted other ppl who were scared of the potential void of death#by talking about how well its just not existing anymore it wont be a void because we wont be conscious#no reason to be scared of a nothingness you wont be aware of#its just like how you dont remember before being born because you didnt exist. same thing#but now i cant get the idea of an endless eternal void out of my head and i dont like it#i cant believe or take solace in my own words now and i dont know why#its not helping me feel any less scared
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it’s weird that they decided to go for kang as the next overarching big bad when galactus is right there. he’s more well-known, poses a huge threat and is way more visually interesting than just some dude
#as far as i know kangs way more obscure and complicated than galactus#when compared to thanos he just feels like a regular human threat#and yeah hes not human but he looks and behaves like one and thats just meh#especially after what happens in antman 3#but even the way he was introduced makes him feel like a two movie villain at best#thanos was a faceless villain then only given glimpses that built up the threat#he was lurking over all phase 2 and 3 and we found out what he wanted before ever even meeting him#thats a main threat you end a franchise on#kang? whats he got compared to that#he could be exchanged for any of the other one movie villains and i wouldnt notice a difference#at him to every other teething problem phase 4 is having and i wash theyd just hard abort the entire phase and start fresh#slow it down let the cgi artists have actual time to work give the writers time to write and go back to character based stories#instead of stories existing only to build up the scope of the multiverse#powers gone to their heads and they need to chill out#marvel#marvelous#coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt
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i actually do kinda like delivering groceries on the side because it gives me such a unique cross-section of the community. i never know whose groceries im shopping for until i finish the delivery and see them/their home and it's like it adds more detail to the picture of who they are. the baby supplies going to the apartment that i know for a fact is one bedroom (they'll be moving soon - i bet they're apartment hunting, i hope they find a place). the new cat litter box, bowl, and kitten food going to the house covered in "i <3 my dog" paraphernalia (a kitten definitely showed up on the porch recently and made itself at home). the fairly healthy boring grocery order that includes an incongruous tub of candy-filled ice cream going to the home of an elderly woman with toddler toys in the yard (it's clearly for her grandkids, whom she sees often).
shopping for someone else's groceries is a fairly intimate thing. i've bought condoms and pregnancy tests, allergy medicine and nyquil, baby benadryl and teething gel, a huge pile of veggies paired with an equally huge pile of junk food, tampons and shampoo and closet organizers and ant traps and deodorizing shoe inserts and a million other little things that tell a million different stories in their endless combinations. one time someone had me buy one single green bean. i messaged them to confirm that's actually what they wanted, and they said yes - neither of them liked green beans very much, but they had a baby they were introducing to solid foods, and they wanted to let him try one to see if he liked them. another time i had someone request 50 fresh roma tomatoes - not for a restaurant, but for a person in an apartment. the kitchen behind them smelled like basil and garlic when they opened the door. another time i brought groceries to three elderly blind women who share a house. that was one of the few times i have ever broken my rule and gone inside a place i've delivered to, because they asked if i could place the grocery bags in a specific location in the kitchen for them to work on unloading and there was no way i was going to refuse helping.
i gripe about the poor tippers, but people can also be incredibly kind. one time i took shelter from a sudden vicious hailstorm inside an older lady's home in a trailer park, while i was in the middle of delivering her groceries. we both huddled just inside the door, watching in shock as golf-ball-sized hail swept through for about five minutes and then disappeared. she handed me an extra $10 bill on my way out the door.
when covid was at its deadliest, people would leave extra (often lysol-scented) cash tips and thank-you notes for me taped to the door or partially under the mat. i especially loved the clearly kid-drawn thank you notes with marker renderings of blobby people in masks, or trees, or rainbows. in summer of 2020 i delivered to a nice older couple who lived outside of town in the hills, and they insisted i take a huge double handful of extra disposable gloves and masks to wear while shopping - those were hard to find in stores at the time, but they wanted me to have some of their supply and wouldn't take no for an answer.
anyway. all this to say people are mostly good, or at least trying to be, despite my complaints.
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4 RULES TO SURVIVE A DIVORCE (GONE WRONG)
— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — deciding to end your marriage with neuvillette might've been the hardest decision you've ever had to make in your life, although now, navigating through the divorce was becoming even more difficult, especially when you suddenly fail to stick to four simple rules you have both set between each other.
— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 7.8k
— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, ex! husband neuvillette, divorced couple goals lmao, fluff & crack, p with plot, lovers to strangers to lovers, size kink/size difference, rough sex, unprotected sex, unresolved tension and lots of bickering, sassy comments from the both of you, it's very much giving married old couple, office sex, cumming inside
RULE NUMBER 1: KEEP YOUR DISTANCE AT ALL TIMES
by the sixth day of waking up to an empty bed— with the left side untouched and consisting of nothing but a feeble scent of vacant perfume, neuvillette has decided that he's had enough.
which wasn't to say that he's had enough of sleep, even though that's certainly a potent route to take, yet the neuvillette the people of fontaine knew was only the one they believed they knew.
in this agonizing moment in time, he wasn't sure on how long he could act out this picture-perfect facade for the sake of his people.
they thought he was brilliant, attractive, chocolate-box pretty.
a radiant, enigmatic dragon that was quite the sight to behold, his smile reminding the flowers of spring-time to blossom to their original beauty— awakening their way of life— ah well, such lovely things to ruminate on, or when they decide to appreciate his delicateness, how uniquely he viewed the world and how otherworldly soft he chose to explore it.
in a true sense, the alluring stories the people of fontaine told each other got one single piece about him right; that neuvillette was very handsome and soft to someone's eyes.
with all ones heart, the man unquestionably had enough of the irrefutable coldness wearing down on his shoulders, sitting there alone in an empty bedroom that was previously essential to his well being, with misery written all over his face and bursting at the seams of his mental health, just enough for him to stop talking all at once.
the cold bedspread was rough against his naked body, the mattress too soft to rest on and giving in beneath his weight. wholly crestfallen did neuvillette realize that sadly, the only way to return to the life he's lived a couple months ago, return to where he should be, was to somehow learn on how to travel back in time and make things right.
which from the bottom of his heart, was impossible.
it was confusing, he has to admit, because the only factor he found somewhat common now was on how empty the bedroom was— besides his own belongings, which weren't a lot in the first place, everything else was taken by you weeks ago, beloved items that were brimful of memories stacked in cold boxes and delivered to your new home.
a predictable event, he knows, and how embarrassingly predictable it had gotten that neuvillette found himself in teething trouble, precisely the issue of his sleep schedule in this bed— one you had bought together, shared together every single day, one you had made love to each other every single night.
a slump of mindless memories waft through his psyche, resembling a wicket current of catastrophes as he ultimately came to the conclusion that the reason he was unable to sleep must be because of you— his serious issues on being unable to rest, it has to be because of you.
neuvillette's thoughts and judgments were all scattered, rummaging through the vortex of problems he had endured through the weeks, a matter much more pressing than all of the other issues put together— he continuously waits and aches, hopes and dreams, and before he notices he's slowly healing, it all comes crashing down on him again.
a recollection long gone relives itself in his mind's eye, and his previous gaze gets overturned by a new, haunting stare.
this is why he had bought the bed in the first place, he remembers it vividly now, it's because you fell in love with it right away, you liked the way it felt underneath your body, heedless of how he personally never really found it comfortable.
concealed from everyone's eyes, neuvillette was deeply saddened, but he hadn't given his mental health much thought yet, because how do you even process that your wife has left you?
how do you tell anybody that you failed as a husband?
and it's raining again? what a hassle, although now he's acquired another way to fault himself on, most importantly hurt himself, because no one deserved the bad weather other than he himself did.
for the first time after gaining the position of the iudex of fontaine, neuvillette did not want to go to work. what if someone begins to ask too many invasive questions when he visits the palais mermonia today?
if that's the immediate case that was going to happen, he begins to think about it more clearly— a person asking about his private life was definitely trespassing his boundaries, right? he could immediately do something about it and put them on trial.
by that logic of his, neuvillette cannot fathom how humiliating it was, his face clouds with a mixture of desperation and disappointment in himself, because he can already imagine the hot off the press headlines on the cover of the steambird;
ATTENTION! ATTENTION!
IUDEX OF FONTAINE LEFT STRANDED BY FORMER WIFE! ARE YOU WONDERING WHY WE THINK THIS MARRIAGE WAS DOOMED TO FAIL FROM THE START? GO FIND OUT IN THE NEW ISSUE OF THE STEAMBIRD. ©this article was written and published by journalist charlotte, do not plagiarize under any circumstances
up to the minute he was able to calm himself down, until imagining the wildfire of emotions an article like that would cause in fontaine.
all the unpleasant hours of arguing with you, even attempting to understand each other without actually coming to a conclusion on how to navigate a situation like that. aside from wanting to keep it all hidden from the outside world, leave it concealed and let the people of fontaine forget about the fact that you two had been married in the first place.
who cares, right? who gives a damn if it's husband or ex husband now? what even was the difference between a wife and an ex wife, you see that it's all the same?
ugh, who was he fooling besides himself.
the whole 'ex-wife' was aggravating him to the point where it made him physically sick.
why can't he just flip a switch and everything goes back to normal like it never happened in the first place. neuvillette wanted his normal life back, the normal life he thought you both loved and would continue to live on until your dying days.
in the end, neuvillette saw no other route around it other than to quit using it all together, maybe stop talking about you entirely.
by all means, it's not like he will talk to anybody about the divorce, maybe besides you when he has to mention it. granted that he might not talk to you about it either, because he wasn't allowed to see you right now, neither were you allowed to see him.
on how it came to that point was genuinely understandable.
after the divorce was finalized, new adjustments had to be made regarding your previous living situations, shared income and the future possibility of seeing each other.
as was anticipated, before he was able to say anything or make suggestions, you had already started to list out a couple of "important rules" that you made up, you called them rules but in the iudex mind he called them pesky little regulations.
regardless of his distaste for them, he wrote them down on a piece of paper as to not aggravate you.
well, he found it a bit bizarre, but neuvillette thought it must be a serious requirement at this point. it was his first divorce so how was he supposed to know how to navigate through one? it wasn't supposed to be easy, that's what he knew, it's very heart breaking and draining his life force.
although funnily enough, his overwhelm strengthens after you waltzed over the fourth rule of the day. that's one rule too much in his opinion.
just how many were there?
"i can't think of a better solution," you state whilst leaning your body against his desk, always facing the ground, you wouldn't want to lock gazes with him during such difficult time.
"we may even be able to talk again in the future, you know,"
but did you really want to?
it's safe to say that neuvillette would want to keep in contact, but it's certain that this would not only stress you both out in the long run, possible new partners could also get weirded out by the fact that you two were still talking and they may become jealous.
neuvillette stifles a groan, scribbling down the second rule that left your mouth before absorbing the letters on the piece of paper, "it's for the best if we keep a distance,"
to say like that was a punch in the gut would be an understatement, despite the fact that you proposed the idea in the first place.
alas and without any of you knowing before setting out those four simple rules, now— weeks after, you had found yourself in a position that made it near impossible to keep a distance from each other, or at least make eye contact in a social gathering.
for you, it has become your life in a literal sense to comb through this difficulty, for neuvillette, the possibility of seeing you in the future would secure his sanity and keep him from turning as mad as a hatter.
patience. the incurable truth was patience.
this afternoon, you have to talk for at least five minutes, with a window consisting of a maximum of ten minutes if one of you talked slowly— it's not like you want to see him, but you have to visit your ex husbands office to sign a paper regarding your previously shared finances and then you're good to go for the day again, you can leisurely exit his office and leave this failed relationship behind, exactly where it belonged in the first place, deeply stored in the past.
previously during the negotiations, neuvillette was quite persistent in leaving you the house which was located a little outside of fontaine. he was in no need of it anymore and wanted you to have it, without payments required.
between us two, it's quite obvious he wanted to get rid of it.
but so did you.
you didn't want to stay there, not now, not ever, you wouldn't sign that damned paper even if the god of contracts suddenly came knocking on your door and force you to.
all the memories in that house would eventually eat you up, they'd definitely destroy you, the gnawing grief would certainly keep you awake at night.
originally after telling your ex husband that you didn't want the house, he was able to find you a flat in the city— it's small but cute, and it had everything you needed. a cozy bedroom, a kitchen that was big enough to dance in while you're preparing dinner and an area where you can set up an office for yourself.
how convenient it was that you were previously married to the person that is in charge of fontaine.
aside from that and the fact that you were practically making neuvillette handle the most difficult parts of this— you realize how a sudden guilt was stored on your shoulders, you could barely face him after that.
the parts he needed to handle included, but were not limited to, well, a problem slightly more irritating since it was about his life, turning approximately a hundred other problems he deals with on a daily a whole lot easier.
most of the legal process was handled by him, and only him for that matter, meaning that he had to spend additional hours on it and was barely able to move on with his life after losing you.
unlike you did.
well frankly, it's only been a couple of weeks, a month at best since you've last seen him— although it has been much longer since you've last felt him.
there really wasn't a lot going on in your life after breaking things off, it's always a grueling whirlwind of;
waking up, heading to work, walking home, eating, sleeping, repeat.
most significantly, your new bed felt a bit hard as well, it's uncomfortable and drove you insane.
you missed the one you had previously shared with neuvillette— wether it was because of the way it felt underneath you or because of its much better quality.
perhaps it was also that in the past, you had the chance of leaning against a warm body whenever you were freezing— the secret on why you found your new bed worse in comparison to your old one would certainly remain a secret forever.
it can never be answered, because you do not even know the answer yourself.
it's frequent and happens all the time— when you suddenly begin to wonder late in the evening if this was the right decision after all.
then again, a divorce wasn't necessarily something you would just forget from one day to the other— aside from that, there was a reason it happened, considering the countless events of arguing and the inability of you both to find a solid middle ground.
when you notice that a relationship drains the life out of you, or makes you cry your heart out late at night, a decision has to be made eventually, especially before it would turn your love into resentment or make your respect for the other person dwindle away.
was it really that surprising that you had your doubts?
when it comes down to it, neuvillette wasn't a bad man and you would never speak poorly of him. he was everything else but bad, which reminds you of the reason you had fallen in love with him.
but in earlier days, he had a reflection less of the way he was than of the way he wanted you to see him.
it was challenging for neuvillette to open up to you.
but hell, you're certain you won't be able to find someone who'd ever make you as happy as he did, bring you sweet tummy aches when he makes you laugh all night, or be there for you when you're sick and unable to take care of yourself.
you shake your head in embarrassment, your cheeks aflame as you're drawing several deep, steadying breaths— perhaps that's just how you're supposed to think right now.
it's not real, it cannot be.
right now, you feel like you should've never broken it off, but this marriage had been on death's door for months before the decision was finally formed— albeit from afar, no one had ever suspected anything and you're quite proud of that, in fact, both of you made sure no one would notice too much of what had been going on behind closed doors— like good spouses should always protect each other.
among other things, taking into consideration just how important his work and image was, the last outcome you wanted was for your ex husband to endure dreadful gossips about him.
neuvillette did not deserve a single negative word against him, this man deserved nothing but the finest life for himself— furthermore, after spending yet another night without sleep and thinking about your ex husband, you believed that the best for him just wasn't you.
it never has been.
RULE NUMBER 2: NEVER SHOW UP TO EACH OTHERS HOME OR WORK, NOT EVEN ON EMERGENCIES, ESPECIALLY NOT IF YOU MISS EACH OTHER
it's a little clumsy when you first enter his office, accompanied by an unnerving type of awkwardness outstretching across the room as neuvillette meets your eyes right away— but his head drops after around two seconds and he puffs out a wretched sigh, sounding as if he's about to cry.
neuvillette thought that this should've been way easier— but before you, he has never felt real love like yours before, and he was quite certain that this type of love only happens once in life.
the melusines were also happy to see you, and you could tell that they were equally as confused as you were— they probably did not realize what was going on and nor did you really want them to know.
given that their love and admiration for neuvillette was bottomless and you wouldn't want them to suddenly harbor a disdain for you.
nevertheless, when you listened to what they were whispering about behind your back, they were talking about how you must've been away for travel or desperately needed a vacation from fontaine, or one even mentioned that you might've been sick— considering how dead and empty your eyes looked those past weeks.
then there's the "being busy with work". ah well, the excuses were surely endless and somewhat amusing, you know you're not taking care of yourself when every second a melusine talks about how tired you looked and if you needed a glass of water.
everything but a divorce was being spoken about, at least you managed to hide that well.
your gaze lifts to meet his own again when neuvillette stands up from his desk and looks at you from the opposite side of the table.
under further examination of your facial expression, he notices the slight discomfort that buzzes underneath your skin, especially around your eyes and how you could barely look at him for more than five seconds.
beneath the familiar emotion of being in the same room as him, the sharp bite of his aftershave slips down the back of your throat when you suck in a sharp, choked breath, tensing like a tree at each step forward.
why do you look like you haven't slept for days?
it cannot be, right? but he was paying attention to certain details, either relevant or not he notices how you're looking around without focus, or shift the weight of your body from left foot to right foot.
and well, his supernatural senses were sharp, immediately picking up on your heart pounding against your ribs as if trying to fulfill a thousand beats.
his fingers twitch slightly with the document in his hand as he remains in his position, waiting for you to come closer.
"this couch doesn't seem very comfortable for sleep," you point to the sofa in his office, in an attempt to break the awkward tension, your chin forwarding to the left where a neatly put blanket and a small pillow sat on top of the furniture.
just how many nights has he spent here? did he even sleep in the first place? was he taking care of himself and should you worry?
it's safe to say that his work shouldn't be in danger, but it really is killing you that you cannot ask without coming across like a desperate ex, and you're fully aware that it would also go against your rules.
but neuvillette has always taken his important occupation very serious, sometimes even to the point where he forgot about his own marriage and his wife waiting for him at home with freshly made dinner served and his most favorite beverage awaiting him on a beautifully set up table and— yikes, that escalated quickly.
you're beginning to remember one of the reasons as to why this marriage failed.
"i hope you do not mind if i ask," neuvillette stifles a groan, "but are you mentioning this out of curiosity or are you speaking down on my new sleeping area?" the hint of sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable, the underlying scorn making you wince.
and oh, "sleeping area" was a big statement for that little excuse of a couch, you're very much aware that he can barely fit all of him on it and always had troubles finding a comfortable spot when he fucked— uh, well, when you did things to each other there.
yes, you already know how it felt on there, and who could possibly know of the plentiful times you had been intimate with each other on that couch.
wait a minute, was that the reason? was he already having a rebound this soon after your divorce?
no, it cannot be.
not your neuvillette, hold on, scrap that and reverse, he wasn't your neuvillette anymore.
it's stinging and like pins and needles on your heart when you think about neuvillette fucking someone on the exact same place he made love to you— leading to the conclusion that simply looking at the couch made you sick to your stomach, instantly setting off another unpleasant lurch of nausea yet you could still muster enough strength to fix yourself for the sake of this conversation.
he wouldn't dare, okay, this is the last time you're discussing this with yourself;
what if he wanted you to see this, tell you that:
hey, look at me! i am so happy without you stupid witch, and i already have a new partner too, isn't that nice for me? there really is no need for you to be worried about me, so please sign this document and exit my office.
because i am getting my dick sucked every single day!
your heart beat turns feverish in your chest, and you quickly snap your head towards the direction of your ex husband, "isn't it obvious that i was just trying to make conversation with you?" you retort back, swatting away the dust lingering on your clothes while simultaneously coughing out in an awkward manner.
"although i really cannot imagine that this couch is somewhat comfortable to sleep on."
"i believe you must still remember on how it felt laying there yourself,"
yikes, what a great comeback from him, and he didn't mean to say it like he's spitting venom into your mouth, it's almost like he wanted to tell you that it's your loss you cannot make yourself comfortable on here, even though he wouldn't mind bending you on all fours again like he did last— okay, that's enough.
there was a half-visible smirk on his face that aggravated you, the absolute last expression you were expecting to see from him.
you roll your eyes, "trust me, i don't want to," you reply, pinching your eyebrows together while assessing your distaste of his answer.
just when did an innocent question about a dusty, old couch turn into— whatever that conversation was about.
RULE NUMBER 3: DO NOT ASK INTIMATE QUESTIONS ABOUT EACH OTHERS PRIVATE LIFE
no, stop it, that doesn't seem right, neuvillette shouldn't treat you this way.
right now, he was experiencing his worst nightmare and the previous gears of sadness grind to a halt upon perceiving another emotion— one, that certainly scared him.
whatever the case, he wouldn't repeat his mistake, accepting any destiny the universe would bestow on him as he silently promises himself to stop any anger from slipping past the tip of his tongue.
pressing your lips together, you dig your heels into the ground, "okay, forget it, i don't have a lot of time," an unexpected force of confidence pushes you forward until you could feel the wooden desk graze across your thighs, you're so close now and the only thing keeping your bodies apart was the desk in between.
your mind was repeatedly screaming at your frame to stop moving before you actually did, "i have to be somewhere in, uh, about a couple hours, so lets finish this quickly."
what a sweet and pretty liar that you were, terribly aware that the only thing waiting for you tonight was your bed.
what a sad image, but he must not know!
"oh?" neuvillette mutters bitterly, a nervous rasp roughening his voice.
"a date, i assume?"
you would have gasped if you had any breath to spare, because you did not think this would actually work in a million years.
"ah, ah, ah," you note in a triumphant colored tone, happily waving your pointer finger from left to right.
"this, dear iudex, goes against rule number three."
content, neuvillette resumes to the document in his hand before placing it in the middle of the desk, sucking in a short, harsh breath, eyes deepening down south, just any area that wasn't you,
"of course, my apologies," his tone was thick, sickly sweet with barely cloaked amusement.
now he knows you're lying— he knows you so well it's almost embarrassing.
"this, is why you came for, right?"
you fumble a blistering retort that died with the hard press of teeth against your tongue, "mhm," you murmur in a low, rich tone, his casual unbothered spirit was dangerously convincing.
oh well, he must have gotten it right— and ah, you were remarkably stubborn too, resisting even the most innocent type of help coming from him as you take a random pen laying across the other side of the desk instead of the one in neuvillette's hand.
your eyes slowly scatter over the document, your brain struggling to put together the authoritative choice of words displayed in front of you.
"please elaborate on that," you press a finger on a significantly befuddling paragraph.
neuvillette muses agreeably before slanting against the desk to see for himself— and when he did you got a real good taste of his perfume suddenly invading your nostrils, playing devils advocate when you flinch back a little.
"do not worry yourself about this," his answer came so quickly you barely caught it, spelled out without a flutter of hesitation.
"everything is accounted for," he adds gently, you only need to put your name, there,"
your once-vulnerable eyes now squint stormily, "that smart mouth of yours surely has been busy, i can tell," as you place the pen on the desk before dropping both arms to your side— the man before you narrowed speechless, burning his eyes through your smug face.
"oh, just how many tricks did you pick up on your way here?" he replies sternly, accentuating the "here" as to remind you on where you currently were— as if that would somehow make him look threatening, you have been in his office plenty of times before, both naked and fully clothed, so neuvillette surely must search for another way to dominate this conversation.
priding himself in front of you with his position as iudex certainly wouldn't work on his ex wife.
"why?" you retort, "you like it?"
"indeed i do, or is that what you want me say, i assume?"
"no," a soft sigh above you echoes your own, "but i do find it weird that you'd want me to sign something without explaining it to me,"
"i did explain it to you multiple times, in fact, last time we saw each other i even asked you if you understood what i was referring to,"
an instinctive flutter of frustration, anger and exhaustion slips down his throat, "and if i recollect my memories," he coughs out and walks around his desk, so that nothing was in between you anymore.
"—you have said your time was limited." the radiating dominance of his body momentarily presses your back against the table, trapping you in the middle, caging between a wooden desk and your ex lover.
"that was weeks ago," you pause, "it's normal for most people to want a quick run through on a document of this importance,"
"it's normal?"
"it's normal," you reaffirm.
"how interesting indeed. i will keep that in mind,"
you lean your weight against the desk as to keep the eye contact with him in an attempt to stand your round, and the two of you have since lost the original purpose of this meeting.
"how could you possibly forget that?"
your voices flap over in an unmusical tune when neuvillette attempts to reply to you, although your tone was far louder than his.
there was an awkward moment of silence that was practically slicing the air within your bodies and it's unusual on just how strong the tension had gotten in a span of two minutes. not to mention that he was so close— you honestly preferred it when his desk was keeping you both apart.
it was hard to remember anything and keep a rational mind, neuvillette realized that and found himself deeply saddened on how quick this meeting went out of hand and turned to this.
but a whispered sentence reaches your hearing and immediately calms you into a warm, relaxing state, "i apologise," he speaks finally and it surprises you, a nervous rasp shaking his voice,
"i shouldn't have talked to you in such disrespectful manner,"
your eyes widen, "no," and your cheeks grow hot with deep embarrassment, "it's really my fault, i need to apologize to you," as you force out a shaky laugh in an attempt to lighten up the mood.
"don't," neuvillette retorts back, contemplating wether he should or not but lastly deciding to rest a hand over your shoulder before he squeezes it, a smile manifesting on his lips— and it was otherworldly radiant, illuminating his complete face with deep warmth and joy.
"i always loved that witty side of yours."
he doesn't say anything for a moment, in fact, neither of you do— and the feeling of him touching you again after weeks of spending apart from each other, and despite it being just his palm on your shoulder, was instantly turning your knees into jelly.
the minute of silence felt like twenty years as neuvillette straightens his body upright, drawing a more serious touch along your shoulder before moving his palm from your collarbone until curving his hand along your cheek, holding your gaze through bright, gemstone-like eyes.
he must be crazy, he thinks— because right now, he's going against everything he has promised himself not to do, and everything you have told him not to do as well. but fuck, he hasn't touched you like this in so long, the last time was long before your divorce, and the helpless intensity of his desire horrified him.
it's when neuvillette suddenly realizes that he has never stopped loving you— not even for a minute, nor a searing second.
it was impossible to stop loving you.
"it's just that i…" your voice grows softer and quieter the more you attempt to speak and your heart thuds feverishly in your chest that you're pretty much aware he must notice it too, "everything feels terrible," you admit hesitantly and flutter your eyes up at him, your gaze fanning over the soft pink across his facial features.
neuvillette begins to move his thumb across your cheek, "please forgive me for failing us," he whispers weakly, on the brink of tears, "for failing the only thing that made life worth living," his throat adds a slightly hoarse perception to his tone.
your eyes widen as you attempt to drop your head if not for neuvillette holding your cheek in his palm as a whirlwind of crystallines well up in your eyes, sousing your lashes.
your mind was gone, but suddenly you can think more clear— and you're not depending on the damaging daze that was originally controlling your body's autopilot feature— the grueling circle of work, sleep, repeat.
you sniffle between words, "no!" and helplessly slant into his chest as to bury your face in the fabric of his garments, "it's my fault, not yours!" continuing to cry and wail and sob your heart out.
"please don't hate me! don't resent me!"
being able to finally let go of all those stored emotions in your heart felt utterly freeing, as if an unbearable weight was lifted off your chest.
how did you two even end up in this situation? can someone, just anyone, make this agony for the both of you stop?
neuvillette shushes your cries with a soft shhh, folding his arms around your waist before smoothing one hand across your back. he decides to rest his head on top of yours, his warm breath fanning against your hair as you return his hug, pulling him deeper into you.
"i could never hate you," neuvillette sighs, "it's because i have never stopped loving you," before putting on weight around his embrace on you— perhaps as to prepare himself, because he was sure you were about to smack him due to what he just bluntly admitted to you.
while he knows it was certainly deserved as well, no excuse would make this proclamation easier even in the slightest.
but he doesn't regret it, it's over now. he just wanted to get this off his chest even if you'd most likely break off any remaining contact to him— although now he realizes that you've given him so much and he won't let you go again, not before repeatedly telling you that he loves you, loves you, loves you.
despite him believing that his efforts went to waste.
to his surprise, you did not hit him, nor did you yell at him or ask if he's hit his head somewhere— instead, you slowly move yourself from his chest, a saddened gaze meeting his own as a single tear falls from your eye.
your answer dwells a moment before you push it out, "i love you too," and whisper, "i love you so much," before you're peering at him with an expression he couldn't begin to decipher— for what's obvious, it's pure and selfless, a startled hum immediately following the last syllable that leaves your mouth when neuvillette suddenly slants his head forward to feel your lips.
RULE NUMBER 4: DO NOT FUCK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, PLEASE JUST DON'T DO IT, SNAP OUT OF IT, DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT SEX WHILE BEING IN THE SAME ROOM TOGETHER
by all means, this wasn't supposed to happen— hell, you don't even know how you got here.
but his eyes were enticing as they meet your gaze, a deep source of exuberance affecting your delirium and when he leans into you to kiss your lips, his soft lashes clash against your skin, his traces subtle enough to make you feel a faint tingle shiver downwards your heat.
against all odds, neuvillette was terrible at making this any easier for the two of you, no matter how hard you tried to pull away after the third, fourth or fifth kiss, there was no way of ending this and his tongue made sure to clash against yours at each lap— this passion, it had no resistance, it will always find a way to flourish.
nothing more, nothing less, and you've got the iudex right under a fucking spell because even when his life felt depressing after you left him, when he was living through all those weeks and tried to navigate through this divorce— now, his heart had suddenly begun to beat again, although neuvillette knew that this would go against the fourth, and most important rule you had set up.
but he cannot stop.
blood racing, nerves alight, he pushes you against the desk and helps you to get on top of it.
you wanted him to pleasure you, needed him to use his hands and devour those pretty lips of yours— whine as his mouth carvs in a smirk, so excited and sooth as silk when you wrap your arms around his neck to push his frame against your chest, so he could easily rest his entire weight on top of your own.
"you're gorgeous," he coos, "so utterly breathtaking," the thought of you craving his attention to that level was flooding him with pride, it made his skin crawl with a thousand thunderous vibrations that hit the bulge in his pants, your wet kisses and hot traces fueling the withdrawals of your soul on his skin.
the dizziest groan touches your glossed lips— and neuvillette flips over your skirt to expose your drenched panties to his hungry stare, his eyes instantly hard with lust and love, every measure of his yearning openly shown as his cock twitches uncomfortably in his clinging pants.
you moan a dreamy sigh when the freezing office air hits your most sensitive parts, the tone leaving your lips high-pitched and desperate to feel more of him. in response, you earn a rough groan from neuvillette as he discards of his belt, dopamine shaking his soul alive, manifesting ruthlessly and tempting as you hug him tight, your erected nipples crushing against his strong chest.
you kiss along his neck with tenderness and feel the intense force of redness on his flustered cheeks, your tongue swift to blend over the quivering skin as you lash fiercely at the outline of his jaw between sharp flares of teeth tickling his face— his bewitching expression being held captive by your hand gripping his jaw hard enough to pull him towards you.
unwinding with relief, neuvillette manages to pull his tight slacks off, sighing as he drew out his hard cock and aching balls— instantly taking himself in his palm before fisting it slow in front of your hole. a thrum of arousal around the slit of his tip intensifies his need to crowd you with his shaft, and he gracefully strokes himself until you wrap your fingers around his wrist as to stop him for a second.
"i want you to make love to me," you mumble impatiently, "it's been so long," and neuvillette follows your lead in a flash and a quick nod of his head, making sure that you're sitting all comfortable on the desk and that you wouldn't hurt yourself with a random utensil on the table before he urges you to wrap your legs around his waist, your thighs squeezing his hips close.
"everything you say, i do," neuvillette reassures you, "forever,"
your broken moans and bulging eyes excite him, not to mention when you refuse to let go of him. of course, who knows what will happen after desire subsides and you're both thinking rationally again, after all, you do trust him with your life, but you're still divorced and sure you would look stunning on your second wedding with him, he would very much prefer to marry you right after fucking the broad daylight out of your figure.
gently clutching at your clothes, neuvillette slowly lifts up the fabric until you're wholly exposed for him to feast on, at last working your panties down your legs as they hit the ground, a coy smile spreading across his lips— your naked body was prancing in front of him, reminding him on how gorgeous you were, especially now as your lips hang apart and your lewd whines spill from the tip of your tongue.
your pretty nipples were erected as well, laying a familiar caress up his spine when you grind your chest against his chiseled one, encircling the exposed skin until it comes to meet in front.
"just look at you," he mutters proudly, almost to himself, his cheeks flushed as he ducks his head to hide the beginnings of a pleased smile when he kisses your shoulder. the praises set your blood raising, pumping a hotness into your pussy as you moan out his name in sweet tandem, feeling the slight trace of his cock-head shadowing your hole.
you will do so well tonight, neuvillette thinks to himself, and before he helps you keep your legs parted, he teases your entrance with a half-hearted push of his cock. you want him closer and carry on to search for his entire weight on top of you as his dripping dick slides past the tight edges of your hole, your pussy throbbing as it began to hurt a little— just a bit, and it's important to note that you weren't used to this anymore, used to him, and it's because all the pheromones are currently leaving your body that it was worth having a slight pain come by.
because you knew neuvillette will do anything in his power to make it hurt as little as possible— so you could enjoy his erection painting your walls white as you moan avidly, your pussy rubbing deliciously on him, his hand continuously massaging the delicious, soft skin of your thighs and ass.
you breathe a shaky sigh of relief when he snakes himself half-way in, a gentle breeze of your whimpers scatter across the room as neuvillette continues to push inch after inch of himself into you, your body relaxing underneath his much bigger one as you welcome him, beautiful moans and whimpers spilling from the back of your throat.
oh, how much you missed sucking in his cock like your life depended on it— and whatever issues would arise after this sinful encounter, neither of you was giving an inch of mind to those future concerns.
"there you go, that's what you need," neuvillette grunts, tensing his jaw and limiting his breathing because fuck, how are you still so fucking tight— in any other case, he would never skip foreplay with you, knowing that his size tends to be too big for your pussy, sometimes offering you help in spreading your puffy cunt apart— but he is aware that you're extra wet today, he notices how much easier it was to slide himself through your walls and collect your slick.
a slightest raw edge of desperation made his groan sound almost like a plea when your pussy clamps down on his shaft, and neuvillette moans softly as he bows down to trap your lips against his own, sliding down his tongue and lapping at yours, wet and slow, wet and slow, a low hiss of pleasure accentuating his skilled ministrations.
your pussy squeezes him gently and wets him thoroughly so that his flushed cock glistens in your walls as neuvillette allows himself to nuzzle his face against your neck, humming appreciatively when he began to move his hips, drinking in the light tears that swell in the corners of your eyes as he kisses them away.
everything was so filthy, just like that, and you're back to square one again— it's lewd enough to make his cock throb heavily between your legs when he picks up on his shallow tempo, warm and viscous grinds of his thick cock pounding you in two, wild and passionate burning through your sore hole and matching the rhythm of your hips that were catching his shoves halfway.
fuck, you missed his cock filling you up, shaking at the added stimulation when one hand squeezes your tits— not to mention how heavy it felt to have him deep in your guts again, his slicked erection pawing through your walls and searching for your pleasure spots, until you're practically writhing of overstimulation, most importantly releasing the stress you endured those past weeks.
somehow, everything felt more intense tonight— ecstatic and as if you're drugged of his cock, like you broke off the connection from clear reality each moment his tip inches down the searing spots in your cunt— your screams muffled by his strong shoulder which resulted in your noises coming out in weak cries and sobs.
"i'm— i'm so close." it's the way you said it, the way you wanted him to hear you.
neuvillette glances down on you, "yeah?" he cannot hold back anymore, your walls were too hot and too tight, his thudding erection cornering your bruised pussy as his cheeks turn cherry red— the tip of his ears shading the same color, "will never let you go again..." the following sentence comes from under his breath, a strong utterance, holding graven significance as it ignites flames deep within the pits of your core.
it's so unbelievably sexy when you tell him that he's about to make you cum, and the repeated proclamations of love were aiding your orgasm in unraveling much more intense— neuvillette parts his lips before pinching your nipples in between his digits, never faltering nor losing the steady streams of thrusts on your sex, paying no mind to your minor struggle of keeping his thick member within your sloppy hole.
the moans you sob are bringing him such satisfaction as well, particularly the ones of his name made him swallow down the assembling saliva in his mouth, leaving small kisses against your face as his adams apple bobs harshly against his throat when he grinds his hips into your heat— your slick seeping out at the corners of your hole as your beautiful legs hover over his waist to get into that ideal position.
he cups your pretty face without stopping the shallow tempo on your cunt, "i.. want you to look at me," his rhythm becoming blistering and rapid— it almost pains him to hold himself back, or the desire to cum but wanting to make you climax first. it's like his shaft runs through satin, pressing back and forth the finest silk but it's your pussy instead, so soft and taking his shape, you're made for him and he'll never let you forget.
even though he could hardly breathe because of how achingly hard he was, caged within the tight embrace of your walls as tears spring to his eyes, slip down his flaming cheeks, being wild and free and finally one with you again— in addition to the exciting sounds of wet noises of skin clashing on skin providing the last bonus puzzle pieces to make you spiral out of complete control.
a static crushes as if underwater in your ears— and neuvillette rolls his hips fast and hard, purring deeply when your legs wrap and urge him to penetrate you further. the pleasure buried in you was coiling from the base of your spine and found the candid bubble in your belly before snapping into a million pieces— your gorgeous noises finding his ears as he fucks you faster, yanking his head back and clenching his jaw as you came apart together, moaning into each others mouths and welcoming your orgasm with melting, soothing moans.
you shake your head and bury yourself into his warm embrace, earning you a smile you cannot even see when your thighs shake around his waist as he continues to pump his seed into you, the warm covers of milky whites prolonging your orgasm and intensifying it to a tenfold.
just in time too, his hot gift soothes the soreness on your walls as neuvillette deafens your body with a post-orgasm sensitivity that catches you in a trance, his cock still buried inside and never leaving your tight hole as you work to somehow get a hold of your breath again, letting you ease the stress he senses from you.
the stone-hard desk underneath you was bruising and uncomfortable, but it's bearable when you nuzzle yourself into your ex lover, or, well— current lover? soon to be fiance again?
"do not worry your pretty head," his hand lovingly brushes over your head as you fuse into his trace, "i will take care of everything," as he's allowing you to indulge in the intimate atmosphere you have missed so dearly, "i could marry you right this second, wherever you want," and with that sort of enthusiasm, you hold in every passing word with love, knowing that whatever the case— neuvillette and you will figure out a way, but you'll do it together, as a team.
©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 17: Alone
Summary: Your pack has left on their first deployment since you joined them, leaving you alone on base.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 6,866
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, nightmares, PTSD, trauma, just super depressing overall.
A/N: I'm so ready for these next two chapters, you have no idea. Things are happening, things are gonna happen, it's just...so good. You'll see 🤭. They're pretty heavy chapters emotionally, but don't worry fluff will be coming very soon. I won't leave you hanging too much for too long.
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
“We'll only be gone for a few days. A week at most. Dr. Keller will take you to and from meals and anywhere else you may need to go. If you need anything, contact Kate. We'll call when we can.”
He leaves you with a kiss to your forehead. You’re forced to stand there and watch his back as he boards the plane, the ramp closing and sealing you off from them. They all looked guilty, as if it was their fault they had to leave, as if they were suffering as much as you at the idea of parting, even just for a short period of time.
You don't sleep that night. You lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling until far too late when you decide to abandon it for John's room instead. You slip under the covers, disrupting the immaculately made bed as you surround yourself with his scent. You’re on edge, the barracks far too quiet, far too empty. Every little sound has you tensing, holding your breath. The door is locked, yet it’s not the same without your pack there to protect you. If you scream, no one will hear you now.
You manage to fall asleep at some point in the early hours, your mind plagued with horrible nightmares of monsters devouring and tearing you apart.
You wake with the sun, dragging your feet back to your room. You miss the quiet sounds of your boys getting ready in the morning after their workouts, taking extra care not to be too loud. Now you wish for it. You want them to be loud and wake you, because then they’d be here with you. The hallway feels too empty, the barracks too large. You’ve spent plenty of time alone in the barracks, but it’s never felt like this. They’re not just across base from you, they’re probably in an entirely different country.
You stare at their closed doors, all four of them feeling like voids knowing the rooms behind them are empty. Even Ghost’s closed door feels particularly empty.
You shuffle into your room, locking the door behind you as you get ready for the day. You’re not quite sure what you’re going to do, now that you don’t have them around. You suppose you could just go about your day as you usually do while they’re at training, except you won’t have their inevitable return to fetch you for meals to look forward to.
It’ll be days before you see them again.
If you see them again.
You force that thought back into the recesses of your mind. You won’t entertain it, not now while you’re still trying to process the fact that they’re gone. Even if it is a possibility.
You’re sitting on your bed when the knock comes, clutching your phone in your hand. You don’t want to be without it, in case they call. You don’t want to miss a chance to talk to them, especially if it’s your only chance. Or a call from Kate telling you something happened.
You open the door, Dr. Keller standing in the hallway with a small smile on her face. It doesn’t feel strange having her in this space, even with the rest of your pack gone. She’s been here before, and you trust her.
“How are you doing?” She asks as you step out of your room, closing the door behind you.
“I don’t know.” You say, letting out a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“I don’t blame you. Feels strange, being alone here, huh?”
You nod. “Yeah. It’s too quiet. Too empty.”
“I bet.” You follow her out of the barracks and into the cool morning air. “Let’s get some food in you and then you can take it easy for the rest of the day. I know this is a big adjustment, and it happened rather suddenly.”
“Was gonna happen eventually, though.” You say. “For the three months I was with the CIA, they drilled it into my head that their job would always take priority over everything else. Still sucks.”
“It does. Separation is hard for everyone in a pack, even if it’s short term. Add on the stress of their jobs and I can only imagine what it’s like.”
“I’m trying not to think about that.” You say.
“I think that’s the best thing you can do right now.” She squeezes your arm. “Come on, we’ll get the food to go and we’ll eat in my office. I usually do that anyway. It’s much quieter than the mess.”
You get your breakfast, following Dr. Keller to the medical center. You are silently glad you won’t have to eat in the mess without the protection of your pack. The stares from the others might have been your tipping point, and without Ghost to scare them off, you’re sure it would have only been worse.
“Make yourself at home.” Dr. Keller says, letting you into her office. “You can sit at the desk to eat, if that’s more comfortable. I don’t mind.”
You take her up on the offer, sitting in the chair across from hers at the desk. She moves some papers out of the way before taking a seat herself. It feels almost strange, being so informal in her office, but then again, she’s always been more laid back with the formality between the two of you.
“If there’s one thing I miss, it’s good diner food.” Dr. Keller says as the two of you begin to eat.
You stare down at your porridge for a moment, having gotten used to the change in food over the last almost nine weeks. “I miss a lot of things.”
“Would you ever want to go back and visit America?” Dr. Keller asks.
You shrug. “I don’t know.”
“I’m sure they’d take you, if you asked.” She smiles as you stare up at her in surprise. “I don’t think there’s much they wouldn’t do, if you asked. They care about you a lot.”
“I’m starting to realize that.” You say.
“Good. It’s reassuring to see such strong, natural bonds forming between all of you, despite how the situation came about. You’ve made a lot of good progress already, even with the few bumps in the road.”
It falls silent between the two of you as you eat, finishing your breakfast. Your stomach churns with anxiety, hand closing around the phone in your pocket as if it might ring at any moment. It makes you sick, the thought of what they might be doing, what might be happening right at this very moment.
“Can I ask you something?” You break the silence, needing to take your mind off your swirling thoughts.
“Of course.” She says, looking up from the papers she’d been looking through.
“Since I’m your only patient, what do you do all day?” You ask.
She smiles. “I do a lot of things. After our sessions I log the notes I take and read over them, I make sure your medical chart is up to date, I read through a lot of studies and journals on new research and methods that may be helpful, I talk to colleagues all over the world, including here on base, and I sometimes go around the medical center and sit in on meetings and classes to keep my skills sharp.”
“Do you ever feel like you’re wasting your skills here?”
She shakes her head. “No. Before I took this job, I was caring for sometimes over one hundred omegas at various institutes. It was a high stress environment with long hours. While it was fulfilling work, there’s a high turnover rate for Omega Specialists in that field for a reason. Being a private doctor is a bit of a relief after that, and truthfully, the pay is considerably better.” She folds her arms on her desk, leaning forward. “It’s no less fulfilling than working at institutes. It’s nice to have the time to put together the best care plan for you and your needs.”
“It is nice having an Omega Specialist to myself.” You say. “There were several at the institute, a lot of students doing their residency. They weren’t always...good at their jobs. A lot of them were just going through the motions, doing what the more experienced specialists told them to do.”
“Unfortunately that’s rather common with residents.” She says. “Most of them don’t make it past residency. Like a lot of specialities in medicine, it takes a certain kind of personality to succeed as an Omega Specialist. Not everyone has it in them. I wish more schools and programs would take notice earlier before they get to their residencies and steer them down a different path.” She smiles at you. “Now my question for you. Would you rather hang out in here today, or would you prefer to go back to the barracks? You won’t hurt my feelings either way, nor will you be a bother.”
You think about it for a moment. While your knee jerk answer is to go back to the barracks, what are you going to do? Sit alone in the silence and worry until it makes you sick? Sit in the rec room and watch TV alone and worry about your boys until the next meal time? As much as you want to be alone, you also don’t want to be alone.
“I’d...like to stay here, if that’s okay?” You finally say, making your decision.
“More than okay.” She smiles. “Make yourself at home, do whatever you’d like. Watch YouTube videos, dig into some books, take a nap. You won’t bother me in the slightest. You’re always welcome to hang out in here.”
You look over the titles on the bookshelf, picking one that looks interesting before settling on the couch. You spend the day with Dr. Keller, relaxing in her office and going to meals with her. It doesn’t calm the anxious thoughts by much, but at least the loneliness is abated a bit.
You return to the barracks after dinner, debating whether you should sit in the rec room or just go to your room. The rec room feels too open, too exposed without the safety of your pack, so instead you choose to retreat into your room, locking the door behind you.
You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping as tears gather in your eyes. Another night without them, another night without the safety and comfort of their presence around you. Another night knowing they’re not on the other side of the wall, a knock or a yell away.
You fight the panic starting to bubble as you get ready for bed, your mind swirling with thoughts of something happening, someone breaking in, someone taking advantage of their absence to get to you. You know it’s an irrational fear. Most of the alphas on base ignore your existence, aside from the couple incidents you’ve had with them. The most they do is stare, though that’s to be expected as an omega.
What if they’re holding back something more sinister, though? What if the only thing stopping them is your pack? This would be their opportune moment.
You’re shaking, eyes wide in fear as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Sure, you’ve learned a few ways to defend yourself, but could you really utilize them? If the moment called for it, could you defend yourself enough to get away? Where would you go? Dr. Keller won’t be in her office all night. Could you run and seek protection from another medical professional that was still working? Could you find a different high ranking official on base and hope they’d help you? Could you go for the guards at the gate and hope they help you?
Or would it be safer to run for the woods? Try to lose whichever alpha decided to attack you and hope you don’t get lost in the trees? You would just have to survive the night, and Dr. Keller would notice you missing come morning. What would she do, though? Call Kate? It’s not like the guys could just come home and help you. Would Kate even tell them something happened and put them at risk of getting distracted? What if something happened to them because of you?
You turn the shower on as cold as it will go, stepping under the spray in your pajamas. You sink to the floor of the shower, letting the cold water snap you out of your panic and prevent you from distressing. No one’s coming through the door, no one’s going to try and hurt you.
Your teeth are chattering by the time you reach up to turn the water off. Violent shivers rock your body, your hands and feet numb. You take deep breaths, feeling more awake and aware than you have since yesterday.
The panic has dropped to almost nothing, your shaking now due to the fact you’re freezing. You strip out of your wet clothes, leaving them in the tub as you wrap a towel around yourself. You’re still shivering violently as you change into warmer pajamas, opting for one of John’s shirts and sweatpants.
You slip under the covers of your bed, piling every blanket you own on top of the covers before tucking yourself against your giant bear. You won’t sleep, but at least you’re not panicking anymore.
The days begin to blend together without the routine of your pack to keep you steady. Dr. Keller comes to get you at the same time as you expect for your breakfast, and then you spend all day with her, sitting in her office, keeping yourself occupied while you wait for an inevitable phone call. It will either be your pack calling to check on you, or it will be Kate with bad news.
You’re not sure which is worse. The anticipation of a call from your pack letting you know they’re all alright, or the dread that it will be Kate telling you something happened to them.
You’re still not sleeping well, the anxiety and the worry you might miss their call meshing with the nightmares that were already plaguing you before they left. You’re exhausted and strung out, the worry beginning to eat you alive. You’re constantly on edge, every little sound close to sending you spiraling.
Your thoughts have slowly shifted from missing your pack to ruminating about the fact they might not be coming back. It’s a risk you’re well aware of. The kinds of things they do put them at risk, every deployment carries the risk of one, or all of them, dying. One thing goes wrong, one small freak accident and your entire pack could be taken from you.
You’re not sure you’d survive that.
Most omegas don’t.
“Still nothing?” Dr. Keller asks as you sit there, staring at your phone for what must have been an hour at least.
You shake your head. “Nothing.”
“Sometimes no news is good news.” She says. “I know you’d prefer to have any news at all, though.”
“I can’t stop thinking...what if something bad has happened?” You say, fingers trembling from gripping your phone so hard.
“Kate promised she’d call if something happened, right?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“She’s a woman of her word, I can say that much. I’m sure they’re fine. They’re very capable soldiers. They wouldn’t be in Spec Ops if they weren’t, much less on a highly specialized team.” Dr. Keller stands up, moving to the closet. “It’s still hard, not knowing where they are or what they’re doing. I remember when my brother told our parents he was enlisting. Our mother cried for a week straight.” She pulls a pillow and a blanket out of the closet. “I still don’t think she’s completely forgiven him. It’s hard for omegas when someone leaves the pack, even temporarily, especially if you can’t have constant reassurance that they’re alright.”
Your brows pinch in a frown at her words as she kneels on the floor beside the couch. “Your mom was an omega?”
She nods. “And dad was a beta. Wound up with two beta children, though I don’t think mom complained much about that. We grew up in a big pack with lots of people around us. I think mom would have been worse off if it had just been her and dad.” She sets the pillow on the couch, gently prying the phone from your fingers. “Come on, lay down.” She directs you.
You do as she says, laying down on the couch, resting your head on the pillow. She covers you with the blanket, tucking it up around your neck. “Is that why you’re so good at this job?”
She smiles, setting your phone on the arm of the couch above your head. “Maybe. I think it gave me more empathy for omegas and the struggles you face every day.” She gently squeezes your arm. “They’ll be alright. They’re probably just as worried about you, as you are them. But, you need to get some rest. You don’t have to sleep, just laying with your eyes closed will help.”
You tilt your head, glancing up at your phone. “What if I fall asleep and it rings?”
“Then I’ll make sure you get a chance to answer it.” She says, squeezing your arm again. “I promise. Get some rest.”
You let out a breath, not wanting to risk falling asleep, but you close your eyes anyway. It doesn’t stop the thoughts from coming on, the nightmarish images the anxiety feeds your brain flashing before your eyes. What if they’re lying dead somewhere right now? What if something’s happened to Kate and she can’t tell you? Would you ever find out? Would you ever know?
Despite the anxiety prickling through your body, the warmth of the blanket begins to lull you into a false sense of security. Perhaps it’s the sheer exhaustion from your lack of sleep over the last couple weeks, paired with the exhaustion from your constant worrying, but you find yourself slipping between sleep and consciousness as you lay there on Dr. Keller’s couch. You don’t mean to, but you can’t help it as you begin to drift off to sleep.
Screaming. It’s loud, piercing your ears. Something’s holding you, hands clutching at your form desperately. It hurts, nails biting into your skin, fingers gripping too hard, yet you don’t care.
“You won’t take her from me! I won’t let you!”
You’re crying, sobs wracking your body as you cling just as tightly to the form holding you.
Hands grab at you, squeezing and pulling, trying to free you from the constricting grip around you, but it won’t let go. You cling to it just as desperately, afraid of what will happen if you let go.
You know what will happen if you let go.
“She’s no daughter of mine.”
The words bite into you, slicing through your skin straight into your very soul, the prickling pain of your own flesh and blood rejecting you making your skin crawl. How could he just let you go like that? How could he turn against you so easily, over something you have no control over?
Pain erupts across your entire body. Something snaps, your ears ringing from more screams. You’re being pulled away from the safety of the hold around you, your body going cold as the warmth around you disappears. Hands close around you, fingers ripping into you as you're torn from your mother’s hold and into the unknown.
“Easy, easy.”
You’re gasping, breathing wheezing as tears choke you.
“Deep breaths. In and out, nice and slow.”
Your breath hitches, catching painfully in your chest.
“You’re alright, you’re safe.”
You force your eyes open, blinded by tears as something is tucked into your arms. You squeeze the bear against your chest, hiccuping as you fight for control over your emotions. You’re on the couch in Dr. Keller’s office still. You’re not at what was once your home, not stuck in the nightmare you’ve lived over and over.
Slowly breathing becomes easier, your sobs quieting to sniffles. The tears still spill down your cheeks, dampening the fur of the bear in your arms.
“You’re alright,” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back gently.
You slowly push yourself up to sit, pulling your knees against your chest. You press your palms into your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop. Dr. Keller shifts her position, sitting next to you on the couch.
“How long have you been having nightmares?” She asks quietly, watching you as you try to calm yourself.
“Since my heat.” You say, voice rough from crying. You wrap your arms around the bear again, holding onto it tightly.
“You haven’t said anything about it.” She says gently, shifting slightly so she’s facing you.
“I didn’t want to.” You say quietly, shame burning through you. She’s not reprimanding you, yet you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. “I shouldn’t be having them, I mean...it’s not even that bad compared to...compared to what the others have gone through. The kinds of nightmares they have.”
“It might seem that way to you, but trauma is still trauma. It might not be the worst thing someone else has gone through, but it is the worst thing you’ve been through.”
Her words give you pause. You’ve never quite thought of it that way. The kinds of things your pack does, the things they’ve seen, the things they’ve done, are far worse than anything you’ve experienced. The things you’ve experienced may pale in comparison, but they’re your experiences. No one else’s.
“If you want to talk about them, that’s what I’m here for.” Dr. Keller says, leaving things open for you to decide what to do.
You don’t have to tell her. She won’t force you to do it. She won’t force you to do anything, to say anything you don’t want to. It might be nice, though, to let someone know, someone neutral, someone who won’t tell anyone else. It might be nice to finally put into words the things that are eating you, have been eating you.
You lay back down, curling up into a tight ball on the couch. You hug the bear close to your chest, letting it ground you. “My nightmares, they’re always about the day I left for the institute.” You start, taking a shaky breath. “I haven’t had them in years.”
“You were sent early after your presentation, right?” She asks.
“The day after.” You answer.
“Being sent to an institute can be traumatic when done within the normal time after presentation. I can’t even imagine what being sent that soon was like.” She lets out a breath. “Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, the brain and body hold onto it, because we don’t feel safe enough to process it in the moment. The brain can hold onto it for years, until we finally feel safe enough. Then the brain can start to try and heal from that trauma without us even realizing it.”
“You think that’s what’s happening?” You ask.
“It’s possible. Going through your heat successfully, being claimed, building close bonds with your pack, all could aid in helping you finally feel safe enough to process that trauma. Things usually feel worse as the brain works through the trauma, which could be why you’re having nightmares about that event suddenly.”
“Is there anything that will make them stop?” You ask.
“There’s some things we can do together that might help the process. I’m more than happy to help you with it, if that’s what you’d like to do. If you decide to, I think it will be a good idea to set up appointments at least twice a week, at least at first.”
“What are we gonna tell John?”
She gives you a look. “Well, I’d advise telling him the truth. I think you should tell your pack about your nightmares. They can at least offer you some comfort and understanding. Of course, that’s entirely up to you and what you want to do.”
You let out a sigh, getting comfortable on the couch again. Dr. Keller adjusts the blanket over you, squeezing your arm gently.
“Think about it.” She says. “We can talk about it more after they get back and things have settled back to normal again.”
You’re brushing your teeth when the call comes. You quickly spit into the sink, not even bothering to rinse your mouth before you’re answering, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You hadn’t even checked the screen to see who was calling. You’re just anxious to hear from someone after days of silence.
“Hello?”
There’s a beat of silence before the voice on the other side responds, the audio distant and slightly garbled, but you hardly notice.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
You fight back a sob, your inhale shaky as relief floods through you. “Alpha.” The title slips through your lips before you can even catch it, your body nearly vibrating at hearing John’s voice after so many days.
“I’m here. We’re all here.” He says, distant voices sounding in the background.
A smile tugs at your lips, happy tears blurring your eyes as you collapse on your bed. “Missed you.”
“I know, we’ve missed you too.”
You move to your bed, flopping down on the mattress in relief. “You alright? Is everyone alright?”
“We’re alright. Few bumps and bruises, but nothing we haven’t had before. How are you holding up?”
The urge to spill the truth to him is strong. You’ve been depressed and worried and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that you haven’t panicked about something. You’ve been having horrible nightmares and haven’t been sleeping. There’s an ache in your chest that won’t go away, and you’re afraid it might kill you if you don’t see them soon.
“I’m alright. Sad cause I miss you a lot.”
“I know, sweetheart.” There’s a sound on the other end, something you can’t make out and the line buzzes for a second. For a moment you’re worried you were disconnected, but John’s voice cuts through the noise again. “We’re finishing up here soon, and we’ll be home in a couple of days.”
You can’t help but sigh in relief at his words. They’re alright. They’re all safe, and they’re going to be home soon. You’re going to get to see them soon, touch them again, smell them again. “Hurry back.” You say, your voice shaky with emotion.
“We’ll try, sweet girl. We have to get going, but we’ll be back before you know it.”
Saying goodbye doesn't hurt as much as you expect it to. Maybe it’s the relief from hearing their voices, from knowing they’re really alright paired with the knowledge that they’ll be home soon. Two days doesn’t seem so far now that you know that’s all that stands between you and seeing your pack again.
You roll over in your bed, pressing your face into the pillows. Nothing smells like them anymore. Not their shirts that they scented before they left, not your pillows or stuffed animals. The couch in the rec room, and even John’s bed have started to smell more like you.
The first thing you’re going to do when they return is get a big whiff of each of them, even if you have to tackle Ghost to do it. You want to refresh their scents all over everything, roll around in them until they’re the only thing you can smell.
For the first time in days, you manage to sleep that night. It’s not much, but it’s a deep, nightmare-free sleep, aided by the relief from the constant anxiety that has plagued you.
You update Dr. Keller the next day on the news of your pack’s imminent return. You elect to spend the afternoon in the barracks instead of her office, the building suddenly not seeming quite so empty now that you know they’re coming home soon. You clean up John’s room, making his bed again after you’d made a mess of it trying to sleep. They’re all going to be tired when they return, and you want to help them in any way that you can. You pick up your room as well, even though you know you likely won’t be spending much time in it for a while. You’re going to latch yourself onto them and not let go until the ache in your chest has disappeared.
You bristle when the knock sounds at your door. You glance up from where you had been sorting the clothes you’d stolen from the guys from your own so you can get them to scent them again. You’re not expecting a knock yet. It’s too early to be Dr. Keller coming to get you for dinner, and she would have announced herself like she has been, if it was her.
That means someone else is in the barracks. Someone you don’t know.
Your mind races as you try to think of who it could be. You don’t know many others on base, and certainly no one that would enter the barracks just like that, unless it’s an emergency. Is there an emergency? You’re almost certain if there was an emergency on base, then there would be alarms going off or something. There’d be some sign that something was happening, but it’s quiet outside, or at least, there’s no noises you’re not expecting.
The knock comes again, louder and sharper. Whoever is on the other side is obviously not going to just go away. You debate calling Dr. Keller, telling her someone is outside your door, getting her to help you on this, but instead you grab your phone, holding it in your hand as you move towards the door.
You unlock it, holding your hand on the handle in case the person on the other side tries to force their way in. They don’t, so you open it slowly, just enough that you can see out. There’s a soldier outside your door. A woman. You don’t recognize her, but then again you don’t see many women on the base, and you don’t pay much attention to the other soldiers.
Maybe you need to start paying more attention.
She’s a beta, you can tell just by looking at her. She’s wearing scent blockers, keeping her scent from projecting into the barracks to erase the fact she was here.
She says your name, staring at you with hard set eyes. “General Shepherd is waiting for you.”
It takes you a moment to process what it is she’s saying. You’ve never met any of the higher ups on base. The person with the most authority you’ve met is John, but you know he’s only a Captain. There’s others above him, but you weren’t any concern of theirs, so you have never bothered to meet them. Even in your time with the CIA, the person with the most authority that you met seemed to be Kate. You hadn’t even been given names of anyone higher up than her.
Apparently something’s changed.
Something in the back of your mind begins to tingle. Something isn’t right about this. You should have called Dr. Keller, or even Kate. You shouldn’t have opened the door so recklessly.
“But, I’m not supposed to-” You begin, unsure of what to do now.
“It’s a direct order from your superior.” The woman cuts you off, her tone sharp and impatient.
You’re not a soldier. The only superior you have is John and he’s certainly not behind this.
You wouldn’t dare say that out loud. Not right now.
“Okay, okay.” You say, stepping back slightly from the door. “Let me just get some shoes on.”
You close the door, staring down at your phone. You debate calling Dr. Keller or even just sending a text, but you don’t put it past the woman outside to barge in if you don’t hurry. You can feel the panic rising, the thought of someone invading your space so carelessly making the back of your neck tingle. So instead you slip on a pair of shoes, shoes you know you can run in, before you open the door again.
She’s still standing in the hallway, stiffly at attention. Her gaze pierces into you, making your skin crawl. You close your door behind you, slipping your phone into your pocket. She doesn't say anything as she turns on her heel, walking down the hallway towards the door. You follow behind her, having to walk quickly to keep up with her. You’re reminded of your early days on the base when you would be escorted around by Ghost.
You’d take those times back over this right now.
Your palms start to sweat as you leave the barracks, dread starting to fill your stomach as you realize how much of a mistake you’ve made, leaving with this stranger. She could be taking you anywhere to see anyone. You’re not even sure General Shepherd is a real person.
The thought of being led blindly into a room of alphas like a lamb being led into a den of hungry wolves nearly makes you panic, your steps faltering just slightly as you debate running. You could make it to the medical center quickly from here if you sprint the entire way. Would she chase you if you took off running? Would you get in trouble? Would the guys get in trouble if you did?
You don’t want anyone to get in trouble.
Especially not with this being the first time you’ve been on your own. They’ve put a lot of trust in both you and Dr. Keller in their absence. If you get into trouble while they’re gone, that might change things. You could ruin everything you’ve built by misbehaving.
The woman leads you to a building you haven’t been in before, leading you down a clinical-looking hallway to a door. She pauses in front of it, turning to face you. You stare at her, still on edge. What if this is a test? What if they’re testing you to see if you’d just blindly leave with a stranger while they’re not there to protect you.
You’ve made a big mistake.
The woman holds out her hand, and you stare down at it dumbly. “Your phone.”
You continue to stare at her hand for a moment, trying to swallow the nervous panic rising within you. You don’t have much of a choice now but to obey. Your hands are shaking as you pass your phone over, the woman pocketing it before she opens the door.
It’s bright inside, the LED bulbs burning your eyes. You’re uncomfortable and uneasy, a dangerous mix for an omega, but the person inside doesn’t seem to care. He stands from his seat, towering over you. He screams alpha before his scent even hits you. You’re thrown back into the memories of your father, the way he carried himself, the way he stood. Back straight like a rod, hands clasped behind his back, face pressed into a stern line.
He’s in uniform, decorated with more patches and pins than you could put a name to. Army, you think, judging by the color of his jacket. It looks like General Shepherd is a real person after all.
You try not to flinch as the door clicks closed behind you, sealing you in this room with an unknown alpha. Though it’s only one, you still feel like the helpless lamb standing before a hungry wolf.
No one will hear you scream. No one will care.
“My name is General Shepherd.” He says, his voice gruff and laced with authority. “I am the acting commander of Task Force 141.”
You’re not sure if you should say anything, or even bother introducing yourself. He probably already knows you well, even though you’ve never met him before in your life.
“I was one of the driving forces behind the omega initiative, and I decided the 141 should be one of the first to participate. I also signed the approval for you to be assigned as their omega, did you know that?”
You shake your head. “N-No sir, the CIA didn’t give me any names.”
“Good.” His lips twitch in what you assume was supposed to be a smile. It doesn’t ease your nerves any. “They weren’t supposed to. I’m sure you’ve learned that confidentiality is everything in this line of work.”
“Yes, sir.” You try not to flinch under his gaze, piercing and probing. The back of your neck is tingling, every single instinct in your body screaming at you to run, to escape, to get somewhere safe.
“I came here today to ensure your pack was doing as they were instructed. I’m impressed with what I’ve seen so far. You’re getting along well with them?”
You nod again. “Yes, sir. There were some...bumps along the way, but we all get along fine now.”
“Good.” He closes the file on the table, taking a step closer to you. You fight the urge to take a step back, not wanting him to invade your space while you’re so vulnerable. “The success of this program is imperative to the future of the military and its functionality. You’re doing important work here with the Task Force.” His hand lifts, slowly pulling the collar of your shirt to the side so he can see your mating mark.
You fight the urge to lift your hands and wrap them around the back of your neck, the instinctual urge to protect yourself nearly winning out as he stares at your mark. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the fear-driven adrenaline making your fingers tremble. Half a second and he could scruff you, half a second and he could overpower you.
No one would know. No one would care.
“I’m satisfied with what I’m seeing so far. Of course, the true measure of success will be their efficiency in their current task.” He steps back away from you, moving back to the table. “How have you been adjusting to them being gone?”
“It’s been difficult,” You say, breathing for a second to collect yourself. “But I know separation can be a rough adjustment at first.”
His lips twitch again in a twisted smile. “You’re a smart girl. That’s why I chose you for this position. You’re doing good work. Your efforts will change the course of military history, hopefully for the better.”
Something about his words don’t sit right with you.
You’re trembling as you exit the room, led out by the woman that had brought you to the building. Your breaths are heavy as you try to keep a grip on the anxiety threatening to overtake you. Your hand is trembling uncontrollably as she give you your phone back, your knuckles going white as you clutch it to your chest. You’re sweating, the cool air chilling your skin as you step outside.
You barely remember the walk back to the barracks, numbly following the woman as she leads you back to your safe space. It doesn't feel so safe anymore, now that she’s breached it. She entered without permission, breaking that trust that’s so sacred to packs.
She doesn't even seem bothered by it.
She pauses outside the door to the barracks, staring down at you. You fight the urge to race inside and lock yourself in the safety of your room before she can change her mind and enter again, or take you somewhere worse. You stand your ground, meeting her gaze.
“Thank you for your cooperation.” She says, as monotone as she had been the first time she spoke to you.
You finally realize what it was that made her seem so off to you as you think over her words.
She’s American.
“Thank you for escorting me.” You say politely, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Have a safe trip home.”
You quickly enter the barracks, speed walking down the hall towards your room. You want to burrow under your covers and hide until the guys return and you can feel safe again. You pause in front of your door, staring down at the handle. The back of your neck is prickling again, anxiety burning hot in your veins. Your hands have begun shaking again, clinging to the phone still pressed against your chest. You fight the urge to hyperventilate as you stare at your door, half of your brain telling you to run and the other half stuck, staring in shock and disbelief.
Your door is ajar. Open just a crack, just enough to be noticeable by looking at it.
You always close your door. You always ensure it’s shut every time you leave the barracks, even when the guys are home. You remember shutting it before you followed the woman out of the barracks. You remember distinctly listening to the click of the handle as you pulled it shut behind you in the quiet of the barracks.
You stare at the gap, the line of the frame visible. It’s open. Your door is open.
Someone was inside your room.
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#call of duty#call of duty fic#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#a/b/o#omegaverse#x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish x reader#soap x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#tf 141 x reader#poly 141#task force 141 x reader
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##come back to me
ex!vox x reader / alastor x reader (in reality he stole vox’s bitch)
part i
synopsis: you’re getting tired of the radio demon
beware: heavy yandere aspects, heavy obsession, implications of manipulation, reader just not having a break
whenever he looked at you, gazed upon your form, they were always so gentle. the embodiment of love and infatuation were behind them, as he wouldn’t be able to hide it even if he tried.
alastor won’t lie, he first started talking with you out of spite from his rival. you were in a vulnerable state at the time, and my, did you spill most of vox’s secrets behind closed doors! alastor came to you just to talk heavy shit about vox in hindsight.
although, it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t catching a genuine interest in your own stories and interests. it took time but he did fall for the aspect that you are one of a kind: little did he know, you came from the era of his circle. it was like it was meant to be.
“my dear, if you do not want to deal with a rodent like him, give me the word and he will be gone.” “don’t you lift your pretty finger, i will take care of him.” “you’re so cute when you try and take control — we both know he will not listen to your word — it’ll just make him more starved.” this is where you began to hear vox behind his words
they’re were laced and very similar. the contrast was that alastor seemed more confident in his words, almost like he expected you to listen to his statements when there wasn’t a choice. at first, you didn’t want to believe it. the radio demon was far different from the man you called an ex
just like last time, you felt suffocated in your own space. you felt small, but this time you caught the signs before it could go any further. alastor didn’t appreciate that, especially since you took the lead more often.
you had to take a break, just a simple break, even for an hour. you wanted to get as far as you possibly could from that demon for even a fragment of time. husk caught a glimpse of you leaving on a dark night, but he only nodded at you before continuing on with his task.
getting away from one demon was one thing, hiding from two was another. you were fully aware that alastor would know of your absence soon enough, as that cannibal never seemed to sleep. although, you could only stay out of the streets for so long in hopes that vox hadn’t noticed.
you found yourself straying into a bar, for the bouncer happened to be an old friend to let you in even when the place was at max. in the far corner of the building where a busted light hung over your head, never to be replaced or fixed since months ago. your gaze fixated on the shitty drink some guy handed you in the crowd, and it was evidently spiked from how it fizzed.
“and i thought that wretched hotel was your haven.” your gaze picked up to find vox standing over you. he picked at his sleeve. “seat taken?”
too exhausted to care, you beckoned for him to take the seat. “not like today could get any worse.” you pushed your drink to the side, raising a hand before he could speak. “don’t begin on your excuses, not tonight.”
“sweet hells, what happened to you?” oh, how you missed the gentleness of his voice. you missed the way how he gazed at you at this very moment — it was specific and genuine — you never fell out of love with him. just… distanced yourself from it. “i swear to fuck if it’s that demon, i will—“
“vox, it’s fine.” your hand came over his. “it’s whatever, not like you could just get in that hotel without getting tossed across the pentagram.”
those heart pupils that adorned his eyes finally shown, and that’s when you remembered why you had to get away from him. “sweetheart, i don’t understand why you won’t come back to me — come back home where i know you’re safe and well.”
it’s almost like a sixth sense to know that the answer you’re about to give him will result in a temper tantrum. so you decided against it. “i have to go.”
“y/n, please, this is the only time we get to talk, don’t go! i promise to make it better, i—“
he lost you in the crowd.
returning back to the hotel at the dawn of a new day was almost a mistake. a hand came to pinch the bridge of your nose the moment alastor came to your side.
to your surprise, he didn’t ask a thousand questions. instead, he went on with hoping your night out went well and to alert him next time. though, there was a hint of something else behind his tone you couldn’t figure out.
just like any other day, you both gardened the plants that are scattered along the building. making breakfast that involves fresh meat and a fine cup of tea.
is it too late to add that you’re getting used to this? it’s suffocating, yes, but alastor seems to make it more bearable.
#ᥫ᭡.#hazbin hotel x reader#vox x reader#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel imagine#vox imagine#vox x yn#vox x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#alastor x reader#alastor x yn#alastor x you#alastor imagine#hazbin alastor
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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 5
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.6][Pt.7]
“So you’re that dead kid everyone’s talking about.”
Danny smacked a trash bag into the purple clad vigilante. “You can pick up the glass.”
“Wait, I’m just here to-”
“Bother me when I’m working? At least the litterer brings me cash. You can help clean or you can leave. Plastics go over there.”
Danny pointed at a pile of plastics, ignoring Spoiler’s bemused look. Hard to tell, really, considering her mask.
“I’ll help clean if you answer some questions!” Spoiler chirped, already moving to pick out the glass in the general trash pile Danny’s managed to gather. He nodded.
“Alright. At least you’re helping. The other one just bothers me and leaves his stuff on the beach.”
Spoiler snorted. “I’m Spoiler. Is the litterer Batman?”
“Sure. I don’t really care what his name is,” which was a complete lie, Danny was a fan. It’s just that messing with Batman (especially after he couldn’t clean up after himself, honestly!) overrode his fan behavior. “But if I catch him leaving shit in the waters again…”
Danny frowned, eyes glowing. He could feel- even with his partial tangibility, the muck of Gotham's waters seeping into his boots. It was not giving 'Live, Laugh, Love' to Danny, and he needed it gone.
“Whatever. They dropped a lot of guns down here. You can deal with those too, yeah?”
“I'm pretty sure that's evidence?!”
“If you could call it that.” Danny plucked away the Styrofoam and the hazardous (more than regular, anyways) materials away from the trash pile so Spoiler could dig through with her gloves without contracting sixteen different sorts of illnesses.
“So, what brings you to Gotham?”
Danny pointed at the water. “Came for school. Stayed because you losers polluted the water with dead bodies and gross chemicals.”
“You go to school?”
“Hey, that’s discriminatory.”
“Oops! No, sorry! I meant-”
Danny waved her off, irritably separating a bottle cap from the crushed bottle. Seriously, what’s the point of putting the cap back on if you were going to throw it in the bay anyways?
“It’s fine. How else am I supposed to learn about the advancements made in the scientific industry otherwise?”
Even if Danny wasn’t too sure that science could sure stupidity, but a halfa could dream, right?
"So... do you just... listen in on lectures?"
Danny stared at her. "What else would I do in a class??"
"Oh. I just thought since you're dead and all, you'd do something more... fun?"
"I mean, I could terrorize the local villains for kicks, if that's what you meant."
Spoiler brightened. "Actually, yeah! That would be helpful! If Mr. Freeze keeps bringing the cold during my latte Thursdays, I'm gonna snap and wring his cold little chicken neck."
Danny snorted. "Alright. I will keep an eye out for this Mr. Freeze." Danny paused. "Hey, tell your friend to come down and help us."
"What- oh. Black Bat!" Stephanie waved her partner down. Black Bat gracefully slipped down towards the bay, casually knocking out two goons gunning for Spoiler.
'Careful,' Black Bat signed.
"Thanks!" Spoiler bounced on the heels of her feet. She swept an arm out. "Wanna help?"
Black Bat tilted her head and, after placing Danny under quick but thorough scrutiny, nodded.
'You can get the salvageable stuff. Anything you can't lift, leave to me.' Danny signed clumsily, placing emphasis on can't.
"You know sign language?"
"I'm not too good at it, I just learned this version."
He knew ghost-sign first, after all.
"Chop, chop. I don't have all night."
----
Danny learned that Black Bat had the skill to knock cans into their designated piles if he threw them in the air so she could kick at them.
"You two can come back anytime."
Spoiler whooped while Black Bat leaned back, smug.
"Wait, tell the litterer he owes me $200. He was short last time."
"...Are you telling me Batman owes you money?"
"Yeah. He might be in financial straights, so I gave him some lee-way."
Black Bat and Spoiler looked at each other.
----
"Hey, so guess what I learned about sea boy!"
Bruce's head swiveled to her with startling intensity. The rest of the clan tuned in.
"He knows sign language! Maybe he even knows ancient sign language! And goes to school, but since he's like, dead, he could only listen to the lectures."
"Bruce, Bruce, do not start a ghost-education plan. Stop. We don't even know if he even-" Dick tackled Bruce, who was already writing a petition as Bruce Wayne to give partial credit to students that diligently goes to class.
"Oh, yeah!" Stephanie shouted over the unraveling chaos. "He promised to fuck with our Rogues for a bit so we can get a break! And we also got a bunch of guns!"
"Where? Gimme!" Jason demanded.
"Do not give Todd more firearms!" Damian cut in.
"Also!" Stephanie grinned as Cass shook with laughter. "Batman's a debtor! He owes Phantom $200!"
"Ain't no fucking way." Tim cackled. "Hear that Bruce? That's karma! For not defending me when he called me broke!"
#batman#danny phantom#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#bruce wayne#bruce has already adopted this kid#just not with paperwork#but that's a trivial matter for BatDad#he's also going to adopt both tucker and sam#dcxdp#sea cryptic! danny au
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I LOVE YOUR CHARLES FICS ESPECIALLY THE RUBY ONES OMG! This might sound strange, but could you write one where Y/N gets tired of the paparazzi and tries to physically fight a reporter? Kinda like the björk reporter incident in the 90’s. I wanna hear Charles and ruby’s reactions!
that’s my wife! | charles leclerc
charles: you know the only reason i got married was so i could yell that’s my wife whenever i wanted?
also i made it SLIGHTLY different so instead of fighting the paparazzi, mama leclerc throws hands with toxic f1 fanboys 😍
Y/n always hated paparazzi, it was no surprise. She knew from the start of her relationship with Charles that she would be photographed whenever they stepped out. She knew what she was getting herself into when she started dating Charles and she tried to ignore it. It worked for a couple years and then Ruby and Mathéo came along. Being a mother changed Y/n. She was more protective of her children and husband.
When she wasn’t in the paddock, she was back home in Monaco with the kids and Pascale. The wag pages updated on where she was and some fans would try to find her.
During the week that Charles was away, Y/n was out with the kids in sunny Monaco. Ruby needed new school supplies and Y/n needed to buy Mathéo new clothes so she took both of her kids to the store. Charles has told her many times to at least have someone with her when she went out, but Y/n didn’t think it was necessary.
“Maman! Can I have this one?” Ruby pointed to a pink backpack that was on a window display.
“You already have a backpack, my love, we are only buying items we need like journals and books for you and new clothes for Théo, okay? And maybe we’ll get ice cream after. How does that sound?” Y/n asked the little girl, who seemed bummed that she wasn’t getting the pretty pink backpack she saw, but cheered up when her maman mentioned ice cream.
Ruby held onto the stroller as the family of three walked the sidewalk to the nearest store that sold school supplies. That’s when Ruby noticed a man pointing his phone at them. She wondered why and asked her maman.
“Let’s go inside, quickly.” Y/n told Ruby as they finally made it to the store.
“Why is he staring?” Ruby stared back at the man and even stuck out her tongue at him when he wouldn’t stop recording.
“Don’t pay attention, Ruby Jules. Let’s go.” Y/n grabbed Ruby’s hand.
“I don’t like him, maman.” Ruby whispered.
“I don’t either,” Y/n sighed as she started her shopping. But the man, who was still recording, decided to make her day worse.
“Tell Charles that Max is the better driver!” He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of her. “Fuck Ferrari!”
And suddenly, Y/n had so much anger built up in her that it made her snatch the phone from the man’s hands and throw it as far as possible. It practically landed on the other side of the shop.
“What the fuck!”
“Don’t ever disrespect my husband like that. Have the day you deserve, shithead.” Y/n turned the stroller holding a sleeping Mathéo and grabbed Ruby’s hand. “Fuck you.” She pushed past the man as she exited the shop.
As the mom had her back turned, Ruby stuck her tongue out again at the stranger.
“And then maman said a bad word and we left! But the phone flew so far and the man looked like he was going to cry!” Ruby said enthusiastically into the phone. Charles was still gone, but news spread of the incident in the shop. Most people were defending Y/n’s actions since the man was clearly harassing the family.
“Really? So maman almost made a grown man cry, that’s my wife!” Charles laughed. Before talking with Ruby on the phone, he had gotten the full story from his wife.
“That’s my maman!” Ruby yelled.
#inbox <3#anon#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x you#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#baby leclerc series#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc imagine
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I just read your fic with LuciferxReader in heat and I'm just in love with your writing 🖤🤤 May I suggest Lucifer*Reader with reversed roles? Maybe Luci is in heat/in a rut?
Only if you want to tho
OFC I WANT TO!! Luci being in a rut is so yummy in the worst way hehe
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
in a rut
lucifer/f!reader
warnings: 18+ nsfw, breeding kink, bit of daddy kink, pet names, masterbation, horniness and more horny bits, some lovey dovey aftercare from the king of hell himself, not proofread
Lucifer’s time of the month would always drive him up the wall in the worst ways.
He was an avid one to do the deed at least once or twice a day, but when he was in a rut….well…you could barely get him away from you.
Always so touchy and saying the naughtiest things in your ear especially when you two were out on business, he wanted nothing more than to have you squirming next to him all while you attempted at keeping the sweetest smile in-front of fellow colleagues or angels.
Though this time was different, no fun and games, just Lucifer alone in a big quiet house while you were away.
He huffed, seated at his desk with his body lazily leaning back in his desk chair, manspreading with his hand racking through his blond hair completely frustrated with his hard-on straining harshly in his pants.
Thinking why’d you have to go on this business trip now?! Out of all the times you could’ve gone…you chose now!?!
Those questions lingering in his mind for a moment before his sex-craved thoughts fogged them out. “Fuck it,” he whisper growls to himself, finally not dancing around it anymore and eagerly unbuttoning his pants to free his aching cock. The pace of his hand unrelenting right off the bat, his thumb not wasting time to swipe over the red angry tip to gather any of the pre that was leaking out, smearing it down his shaft. His head falling back against the headrest of his chair in utter bliss, his lips parting slightly letting out shaky breaths. The adrenaline of his arousal coursing throughout his veins by the second causing him to buck his hips upwards to give him the friction he craved. His mind wandering to his sweet girl and how he craved to breed this rut out of you.
How you’d take it like the good girl for him and let him fill you with his children.
He lost himself on his dirty thoughts of you, his moans getting increasingly louder, filling the space of his office room and soon the rest of the house.
“Almost thereee…” his voice comes out gruff and strained as he gets closer to a much need orgasm with all this build up, but what he didn’t know is that a delicate figure had come home early from her trip and now was standing in the doorway watching her lover get off desperately.
You clear your throat once you hear him almost at the edge, making Lucifer jump surprised and slightly ashamed that he was caught in this state.
"Sorry love am i interrupting?~" Your soft yet loving voice teases him as you approach him seeing the sweat shining on his forehead and his chest heaving rapidly.
His cock now throbbing painfully that you basically put his release on pause for the moment. “N-no actually your just in time…sit on daddy’s cock won’t you?”
Patting his lap with a sense of fervor which you couldn’t deny knowing by just the look on his face that he was deep in his rut. You gracefully straddle his lap pulling your panties to the side, his cock slipping inside with ease making him cum instantly, though that doesn’t mean he’s done with you yet.
Making you gasp as he suddenly starts fucking his cum deep inside of you. “Mhmm, didn’t except this huh? Daddy still having it in him to fuck this little cunt of yours? make you pregnant?” He mumbled out watching your face contort from a surprised expression to a pleasure filled one.
“P-please make me pregnant…” You whimper out in a haze, gummy walls stretching with his length while he helps you come down onto his cock.
Those words alone set a fire ablaze in Lucifer, not realizing what you’ve done once he spins you around bending you over his desk. “Oh i am sweet girl…not gonna stop till i’m sure i’ve fucked a baby into you” He rasped, pounding deep into you now with his tip nudging your g-spot.
Slowly moving his hips faster and faster until nothing can be heard besides your whines, the occasional grunt from Lucifer and the sound of skin slapping together. “Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” You cry out, becoming addicted to this feral and primal fucking that felt like it was rewiring your brain on a fundamental level. Eyes rolling into the back of your head as you claw at his desk underneath you while you felt your orgasm approach.
“Fuck…you’re close huh? Shhh it’s okay princess, let it out for daddy” He manages to coo like he wasn’t fucking you senseless, leaving small kisses on the back of your neck.
With a loud moan of his name, you came hard around his cock with your thighs quivering, whimpering all sorts of mess as his rhythm didn't let up, going just as hard if not as fast as before, desperately chasing his second high. "L-Luci, mphmm.. 's too much" You whine with the overstimulation consuming the ecstasy you had just felt,.
“Almost, just a bit longer sweetheart, you can do it frrrme, be a good girl for daddy” He pushed it out with his cock throbbing inside of you, so close to release.
One more was all it took until he finally emptied all his seed into your womb, his rhythm finally slowing all while he kept his cock inside for a few more minutes trying to keep his cum inside. “There we go….fuck I love you” He places a bunch of kisses all over your face, not being able to hold in his adoration for you as he pulls you off of the desk embracing you tightly against his sweaty body.
You giggle softly with your cheeks burning up with the sudden affection, “I love you too Luci.” He knew now it was time to take care of his sweet girl after taking all that from his rut. Picking you up he takes you to your shared bed, laying you down to cuddle you close and just feeling so whole with you in his arms again and not on some dumb business trip.
#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings#☆⋆｡𖦹anon’s#☆⋆｡𖦹 lucifer#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin imagine#hazbin hotel smut#lucifer hazbin#lucifer morningstar smut#lucifer smut#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar
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