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haddonfieldwhore · 7 months

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ghosthunting - rhea & dom

rhea ripley x gn!reader x dominik mysterio

word count: 4k words

warnings: haunted jail, language, can be read as platonic if you want <3

despite the hot florida weather, your hands trembled slightly as the cameras started rolling. shotzi and scarlett had invited you, dominik, and rhea to be the guests on the first episode of their new ghost hunting series, Chamber of Horrors. you were excited, but also nervous about the idea of exploring a haunted jail, so you were relieved to have two of your closest companions by your side.

“hey guys,” scarlett introduced the three of you as you stood next to her and shotzi. you all greeted your two hosts, and they asked if any of you had encountered any ghosts before. dominik and rhea each shared a story, but you didn’t have one. you weren’t a sceptic, you just hadn’t experienced anything you would consider paranormal activity.

the five of you followed the tour guide inside, a few camera people following close behind as you stopped in the first room, the sheriffs office.

“you okay?” rhea whispered to you, and you nodded, smiling as you felt dom standing behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“yeah i’m good,” you assured her, as scarlett and shotzi set up their equipment in the centre of the room. they had a few rem pods, which would light up different colours and beep if something got close or touched them, and scarlett had a spiritbox on her phone that allowed spirits to communicate using white noise and radio channels.

“how many spirits are in the room right now?” she asked, and a voice on the radio replied ‘eight’. rhea scratched her shoulder nervously, and leaned into dom’s side, as scarlett and her both repeated the number out loud. another device they had could supposedly answer yes or no questions, and it lit up green, confirming the number.

“is that how many spirits were hung here?” scarlett asked, and over the radio came a short ‘yep.’ dominik laughed nervously, and you felt rhea grab your arm and pull you behind dom, sandwiching you between the two of them, not that you were complaining. it was comforting to have them in either side of you.

“oh man,” dom said, crossing his arms in front of him.

“i know it’s weird right?” scarlet laughed, and you admired how she didn’t seem scared at all.

“i don’t my brains, shot. it’s mush,” dom said, looking at you and rhea. “i’ve never experienced anything like… this is above my pay grade. i don’t know what’s going on.” he scratched the side of his head, trying to find the right words to explain how he was feeling.

“i thought we were wrestlers,” rhea joked, and you all laughed, and you mentally thanked her for being able to lighten the mood.

“yeah, let’s get out of here, i’d much rather take a power bomb right now” you played along, and rhea pretended like she was gonna walk out, grabbing your hand a dragging you a few steps towards the door.

“my eyes keep getting randomly like.. teary,” dom said, rubbing his eyes.

“yeah i keep looking around, thinking i’m seeing shit,” rhea said, glancing around the room, her hand still holding yours. scarlett and shotzi were still using the necrophone app to ask questions, when a chill ran up your spine at the words ‘come here’ on the radio.

“you heard that?” scarlett asked, and you all nodded. “are there any child spirits here?” all of the rem pods went off, lighting up and beeping at the same time, and your chest tightened. you wrapped your arms around dominiks waist, hiding your face in his shoulder as rhea, still holding your hand, was pulled towards you by your actions, and she hugged you from behind.

“i feel very warm,” dom noted, and rhea nodded.

“yeah idk if i’m sweating because i’m nervous, or because this one won’t let go of me,” rhea teased you affectionately.

“sorry,” you mumbled, but she wouldn’t let you out of her grip.

“do you guys want to ask it a question?” scarlett asked the three of you, and you all frowned, staying silent. “you’re good?” she laughed, and it got another laugh out of the room.

“yeah, this is a lot. i heard leave,” dominik suggested, and scarlett and shotzi laughed harder as he pointed to the door, but shotzi agreed that she had heard it too.

“do you want us to leave?” she asked, and the green light lit up meaning yes. you took a deep breath, and dominik made a cross sign over his chest.

“let’s go into another room,” scarlett suggested. “there’s a cold breeze behind me,” she added, and a laugh came over the radio, making shotzi giggle.

“it’s laughing at you.”

the rem pod lit up again, and you all decided it was time to move to a different room, scarlett suggesting the general population area next. as her and shotzi moved the ghost equipment, the camera man stayed with you, dominik, and rhea for a short interview.

“yeah, i mean i’m terrified. but you know… i… someone’s gotta do it,” dominik laughed nervously. “and why not, the double champs and the future, nxt champion?” he said, pointing to the three of you, and referencing your future title opportunity that was coming up.

“exactly,” rhea agreed.

•••

you stood behind dom and rhea next to where the equipment was set up outside one of the jail cells. scarlett held the necrophone in her hand, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you swore you heard a voice behind you.

“did you guys hear that?” you said, and dominik turned to look at you.

“freezing,” scarlett echoed what the voice on the radio say, and rhea wrapped her arms around herself.

“yeah, i just got the shivers,” she said to scarlett.

“what is it?” dom asked you, the only one who had heard you, and it drew the attention of the others. your throat went dry and you swallowed hard.

“i don’t know, i thought i heard someone say something behind me a second ago, just before it got cold in here,” you explained. dominiks arm snakes around your back, pulling you into his side. “you guys didn’t hear anything?” everyone shook their heads, rhea mumbling a soft ‘no’.

“would any spirits like to communicate with us?” scarlett asked, and the device lit up green for yes again. “yes, the spirits would like to communicate with us!” she smiled, and both her and shotzi raised their hands in the air. you admired the positive attitude they managed to keep throughout the night.

“my eyes just got teary again,” dominik said, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“are you okay?” rhea asked, placing a hand on his back.

“yeah i’m good,” he laughed.

“is it bringing back memories?” shotzi asked him, referencing the time he had spent in ‘jail’.

“nah, this is just.. different,” he said, and rhea put her arm over his shoulder as he stood between you and her, dom still holding you close to his side. all of the sudden, rhea flinched, scratching her shoulder next to where her mic was clipped to her shirt.

“you okay?” dom asked softly, and rhea laughed nervously.

“thought i felt something touch me,” she replied.

“why do you choose to stay here?” scarlett asked, and over the radio the voice spoke ‘lucifer’.

“lucifer!” shotzi repeated, everyone laughing as dom turned around and pretended to walk out, raising his hands up in surrender.

“there he goes,” the cameraman said, as you pulled dom back to the group.

“you’re not allowed to scare us,” shotzi reprimanded the spirits. “we know you’re not lucifer; you can’t trick us.” rhea hid her face in her hand as she curled into dom’s side, you clinging to his other arm. scarlett was explaining how the necrophone worked to the camera when dom spoke up.

“so, quick question - not to be rude,” scarlet nodded telling him to continue. “so h..how do we know it’s not like a south park episode and there’s like a big dude behind the screen, just like..putting noises or something?” and shotzi laughed.

“well i mean, it is answering our questions pretty good.. so.”

“we’ve gotten very clear photos of faces, where there shouldn’t be anything. we’ve gotten like - figures on our sls camera,” scarlett explained. suddenly you heard another noise behind you, and dom and rhea must have heard it too because they also turned around to look for the source of the sound. your knuckles had turned white from how tightly you were holding onto dominiks hand, and could feel his finger tips digging into your side.

scarlett noticed that the three of you were distracted, and dom and rhea pointed in the direction the noise had come from, and the tour guide had heard it too.

“we heard something,” dom and rhea said at the same time, and the tour guide described it as a growl.

“i don’t know what the hell it was,” you said, your voice trembling.

“you guys are not allowed to touch dom, rhea, or y/n,” scarlett scolded the ghosts. “you’re not allowed to touch any of us.”

“he asked how we do we know there’s not someone behind the scenes, i swear to you i heard a growl and it came right over there,” the tour guide said, pointing behind you. “you all heard it right?”

“yeah, yeah, yeah,” dom repeated nervously, and you and rhea agreed.

“what was that growl? who was growling?” shotzi asked.

“what that the creeper growling?” scarlett asked, getting another laugh out of everyone.

“i don’t know if it was a growl or - it was just like a ‘rahhh’,” dom scratched the back of his neck as he imitated the noise you had heard.

“you heard another noise?” the tour guide asked.

“no no no, when we all heard it just now,” he clarified, and rhea stole you from his grip as she nervously fiddled with her necklaces.

“i just saw something over there,” scarlett said, pointing at where the noise had come from. “there was something over there, what was that? i saw a light go through.”

your were starting to feel a little overwhelmed, and you turned around, closing your eyes and burying your face in the crook of rheas neck, her arms wrapping around you. you instantly felt safer as dominik noticed the two of you, and hugged you both in his arms, gently stroking the back of your head with his tattooed hand.

“are you okay?” rhea asked, and you nodded against her collarbone.

“i just need a minute,” you admitted, and dom squeezed you and rhea tighter.

“you’re okay, we’ve got you,” he mumbled. when you felt like you could breathe again, you mumbled a soft ‘ok’, and they let you out of the cage they had made around you with their arms, but they each still held one of your hands.

•••

shotzi and scarlett were now sitting in one of the cells, and dom and rhea stood outside it. you had taken a step back for a moment, just looking over the shoulder of the camera man. dom seemed nervous as you heard scarlett say to shotzi that there was definitely a ghost in the cell with her, and the offered her hand for him to hold, which he took. suddenly shotzi yelled out in shock, and stood up off the bed.

“what! what just happened. are you okay?” scarlett asked, concerned. “wait wait, are you okay? what happened?”

“i’m fine, i just felt the bed shake,” shotzi said, laughing, and dom and rhea clung to each other.

“oh god.”

“i’m not going over,” rhea laughed, content with staying far away from the cell.

“can you not scare my friend, please?” scarlett asked.

“no, it’s okay, i allow you to touch me,” shotzi offered.

“why would you say you want it to touch you?” scar laughed.

“but respectfully! like don’t hurt me but a little,” she tapped her shoulder to demonstrate.

“i would not like to be touched,” dominik said.

“please do not touch me,” rhea agreed.

“i feel like i’m scared, but i just don’t know what going on, like-“ dom was interrupted by scarlett yelling to him and rhea.

“do you want to come in here with us?”

“nah, i’m cool,” he smiled, and the girls laughed.

the laughter had lightened the mood once again, and you had calmed down, deciding that you were ready to get back on camera. you snuck behind the camera man to head back over to dom and rhea when suddenly, you felt a stinging sensation on for back. dominik smiled as you approached him, but his face dropped when he saw the concerned look on your face.

“what’s wrong, did you hear something?” rhea asked.

“no, i thought i felt something on my back though,” you replied, trying to feel for the spot with your hand.

“want me to look?” dom asked, and you nodded, turning around so he could see if he could see anything. his hands were warm on your skin despite the chill in the room, and he rolled your shirt up slightly, and you heard rhea gasp.

“what? what is it?” you panicked, and went to turn around, but felt her manicured hand touch your back.

“wait wait wait. let me take a picture so i can show you,” she said.

“what the fuck, guys,” dom muttered, and your heart pounded in your chest. dom let you turn around, but his hands remained on your hips as rhea showed you her phone, on it a photo of a scratch on your back, about four inches long.

“what…. how did i get that?” you stuttered, and scarlett and shotzi noticed the commotion and came over.

“what happened?” scarlet asked, concern in her voice as she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. your eyes were wide and you couldn’t form words as rhea showed her and shotzi the picture.

“oh my god, how did that happen? guys?” shotzi asked, covering her mouth in shock.

“i don’t know, maybe i bumped into something,” you mumbled, trying to rationalize; it was possible you could have, but wouldn’t you remember it?

“are you okay to keep going?” scarlett asked, and despite the sinking feeling in your stomach, you nodded. dom and rhea clung to either side of you again, and you were grateful that they refused to let go of you. scarlett and shotzi had gone back into the cell, and called for the three of you left outside to come join them.

“come sit with us,” dominik said, and him and rhea pulled you to sit just outside the cell door with them; none of you interested in actually going inside.

“come in, you guys. we’ll scooch over, there’s room for everybody,” shotzi invited.

“i’m good here,” dom said, and the two in the cell continued asking the spirits questions as you rested your head on dom’s shoulder, rhea doing the same to yours.

shotzi offered her hand for the spirit to touch as she and scarlett were talking about the boo bear, another device of theirs that was going off.

“are you sure you’re okay?” rhea whispered next to your ear.

“i think so,” you replied. “or i’m just blocking it out.”

“am i on video?” shotzi repeated what the spirit had said. “yes you are, and we want to tell your story,” she explained, before the radio said dom’s name. you felt his body tense against you, and you and rhea both held onto his hand.

scarlett suggested going to visit the isolation wing, and once again as they went to set up the equipment, the camera man interviewed you, dom, and rhea.

“i’ve never done anything like this, so this is my first time experiencing..like… this sort of like.. energy wise?” dom tried to explain.

“yeah, especially going into it and expecting something,” rhea added.

“yeah like, knowing… there’s just a lot of beeping going on,” dom said, gesturing with his hands. “i don’t know - we heard our names, and then y/n got that weird scratch…”

“can we show the camera?” rhea asked, and you nodded, turning around to let her lift up the bottom of your shirt.

“it got cold before too - and hot,” rhea continued recounting everything that had happened so far.

“yeah i’ve been going through like a mixture, but again, that’s probably just me cause i’m nervous, and scared. so like my body’s probably just fluctuating with all sorts of temperatures,” he raised his hand up and down to demonstrate. “but i don’t know, this is all very interesting, but fun in a very new way.”

“yes,” rhea agreed.

“except the maybe getting scratched by a ghost part,” you added, and they both laughed.

“except for that,” dom clarified.

•••

“to the wardens room!” shotzi exclained as dom went first into your next location, a quick pit stop on the way to isolation. he jumped slightly, getting scared by a coat rack as he turned on the light. you and rhea laughed at him as he held his chest, taking a deep breath as you all walked into the room.

“do you feel the heaviness in here?” scarlett asked.

“wow, it is - woooah. oh my goodness,” shotzi agreed, and you could also feel a weight in the air.

“it is very heavy,” dom said, and rhea expressed how warm it was in the room.

“it’s hard to breathe in here,” shotzi added.

“yeah a bit actually,” rhea replied, and you nodded.

the rem pod in the ground started freaking out, and scarlett asked who was touching it, when a voice over the radio clearly said ‘find my body’.

“where are you?” rhea asked.

“don’t,” dom whispered to rhea, either not wanting her to interact with the ghosts, or not wanting to go looking for a body. she smiled, pulling him close to her as scarlett asked more questions, before she held her forehead, complaining of head pressure.

“yeah my face is tingling,” rhea said, holding either side of her face in her hands.

“my head hurts too,” you agreed.

“if you can touch one of the rem pods we’ll leave this room, scar offered, and a voice on the radio replied with ‘want us to leave’. the rem pod lit up, and scarlett and rhea both mentioned how it had gotten even hotter in the room.

“yeah my foreheads a little hot,” dom replied, rhea once again resting her head in his shoulder.

“i just got cold; it’s like a total fluctuation,” the camera man added.

“i think we should try downstairs,” scarlett suggested, and you all moved to solitary confinement. you tugged on dominiks hand and gave him a look that thankfully he understood.

“we’ll let you guys handle business, ya know?” dom said, getting the message that you had had enough.

a brief stop in the women’s wing had left you and dom standing outside a cell while rhea sat inside.

“are you sitting next to rhea?” shotzi asked.

“are you on the bed?” rhea asked when no reply came. a voice said ‘move’, and rhea asked if it wanted her to get if the bed, to which it replied ‘do’. rhea raised her hands in surrender and you leaned against the wall, letting your eyes close as your head fell back. as much as you had surprisingly enjoyed yourself, you were just about at your limit for being scared for one night.

“fam, ima listen to you,” rhea clapped her hands together as she stood up, more than happy to get out of the cell. “you call the shots; it’s your bed, bruh.”

scarlett complained of a smell that the tour guide explained was sulphur, and shotzi mentioned that sulphur meant demons.

“yeah, i’m gonna go outside,” dom joked, getting another laugh out of everyone. “yeah that’s uh... that’s where your boy dom.. dirty dom-“ he stopped when you, him, and rhea all heard a noise coming from a cell down the hall behind you.

“i heard that too,” she assured him, and you nodded.

“right?” dom asked. “is there anyone over there?” he asked, pointing the the direction the sound had come from.

“no, we’re all in here,” the tour guide replied.

“i just heard footsteps,” dom said, as him and rhea tried to see if anything was over there.

“dom has crazy hearing,” shotzi commented, before over the radio a voice said ‘she’s coming’.

you stepped away again, dominik following after you as you stepped out of view of the camera.

“are you okay?” he asked, and you nodded. “you can tell me the truth.”

“it’s just a lot,” you admitted, and pulled you into a hug. rhea looked over, concern in her face, but dom gave her a thumbs up to let her know you were alright.

“we’re leaving soon. i think i’ve had enough for one night, too,” he said kissing the side of your head before the two of you walked back over to rhea. she held your face gently in her hands and you nodded to let her know you were ok.

you were pretty checked out by this point, blocking most of the sounds out as scarlett’s phone starting acting wierd, and her and shotzi talked to a spirit in the solitary confinement cell.

“we can watch a movie or something fun when we get back to the hotel, okay?” rhea suggested, holding your hand once again. you nodded, still not completely present. “maybe paranormal activity?” she joked, and you focused on her again, slapping her shoulder lightly as her and dom laughed. “kidding!” she pleaded. she got a wierd look on her face, and dom stood in front of her.

“what is it?” he asked.

“i had like -“ she gestured to her neck with her hand. “my throat got like.. clogged. and then it got really warm and then like rushed to my head. it freaked me out,” she explained.

the five of you decided that that was enough ghost hunting, and shotzi and scarlet gathered their equipment while you stood with dom and rhea as they filmed an outro.

“yeah i’m ready to get out,” dom said, and rhea laughed nervously, muttering a soft ‘please’.

“you wanna use that big light of yours and guide us out of here? good sir, please and thank you?”

you filmed another short outro all together outside the jail, before the three of you said goodnight to shotzi and scarlett and the crew, thanking them for having you on their show. an uber had arrived to take you back to your hotel, and the three of you sat in the backseat, you in the middle as you curled into dominiks side, happy to have made it out in one piece, and ready to go to bed.

•••

rhea shook you awake as you pulled up the hotel, and you rubbed your eyes as you sat up. dominik had also fallen asleep, his head resting on top of yours, and he sat up at the feeling of you moving.

“we’re here, sleepyheads,” rhea laughed, and you all got out and headed up to the hotel room you were sharing. you kicked off your shoes, and got changed into your pyjamas, before immediately getting under the covers, pulling them high up under your chin. rhea laughed at you, before she sat down on the other bed.

“guys?” you said softly.

“yeah?” dom replied, taking off his t-shirt, leaving him in a black tank top, his gold chain reflecting in the low light from the lamp on the nightstand.

“can you come here?” you asked, and they both laughed, rhea jumping on top of you and pulling you into her arms. dominik laid on the other side of you, and you became trapped between them.

“if i have nightmares tonight i’m blaming shotzi and scarlett,” you said.

“don’t worry. we’ll protect you,” rhea promised, getting under the blankets, her legs tangling with yours and dominiks, becoming a mess of limbs.

“goodnight you guys,” dom mumbled, already half asleep as he kissed the side of your head, reaching out and entwining his hand with rheas.

“goodnight,” you murmured, before drifting off to sleep, safe in the arms of your two favourite people.

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio fic #dominik mysterio imagine #dominik x rhea x you #rhea x reader #rhea x dominik x you #wwe #wwe fic #wrestling fic #wrestling

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morganski-19 · 2 months

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The One with the Closet

Eddie walks out of his room and catches Nancy locking the hall closet. A closet that’s never been open before for too long and is always locked. Eddie has never seen the inside of it. And it bothers him. What is so important in the closet that it has to be locked.

“You know, I’ve never asked, but what’s in that closet,” Eddie asks innocently, pointing to the closet.

Nancy shrugs him off, “Nothing.”

She walks away from him, closing herself off. Eddie follows, not ready to give up.

“But it’s always locked. Has to be something special in there if it’s locked.”

“It’s nothing, alright,” Nancy snaps, glaring at him. “Just a hall closet, that has some stuff in it, that I lock. That’s it.”

Eddie backs away with his hands raised. “Ok, alright. I’ll leave it alone.”

“Thank you,” Nancy says, starting to make her lunch.

Except Eddie can’t leave it alone. Won’t leave it alone. His eyes keep finding their way back to the closet door. It haunts him. Taunts him. Makes him go crazy.

“I just don’t understand,” Eddie says, head hanging off of the arm of the couch in Steve and Robin’s apartment. “What’s so special about that door that she keeps it locked.”

“Just drop it,” Steve says from the kitchen.

“Yeah, never once seen that closet open,” Robin adds. “Never going to either.”

Steve leans back on the counter, arms crossed. “It’s a secret.”

“Something she’d rather keep hidden.”

“Or just a closet that she has a weird thing with. It’s not hurting you, just leave it alone.”

Eddie groans, rolling over to sit up on the couch and taking a second to steady himself. “But I can’t help but wonder what’s inside. Like we share basically everything, why is she hiding this?”

“Because she just doesn’t want to tell you,” Robin says as she flicks Eddie’s forehead. “Sometimes there are just secrets that are meant to stay secrets.”

“Or,” Steve counters, cocking his head to the side.

Robin glares at him. “Nope. No ‘or’. If she doesn’t want you to know, they you don’t get to know. And as the very nice friends we all are, we leave it alone.”

Steve and Eddie make eye contact. “Have you tried picking the lock?” Steve asks.

“Don’t ask me how I know this, but I’m terrible at picking locks.”

“No, stop this,” Robin interjects, standing up. “You two are not going to break into Nancy’s secret closet. Whatever is in there is there for a reason, and she doesn’t want you to know.”

“But you’ve never wondered what’s behind there?” Eddie asks.

Robin folds her arms, letting out a long breath. “I might have.” Steve starts to say something, but she cuts him off. “But, I respect people’s boundaries. So, I’ve never asked.”

Eddie hums, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“This whole conversation just made you more curious about it hasn’t it?” Robin groans.

Eddie stands. “Yep.” One his way out the door, he turns to ask them one more question. “Do either of you have a screwdriver and a hammer I can borrow?”

“Nancy has a tool kit under the sink,” Steve answers making Robin huff in disagreement. “He was just going to keep obsessing over it, better to get this all over with before he breaks the door down.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Fine, but I want no part in this. If she asks, I knew nothing.”

“Neither do I,” Steve adds.

Eddie gives them a thumbs up, “Deal.”

Later, when Nancy heads out to the store, Eddie rummages under the kitchen sink to find the toolbox. Carefully, or not so carefully, he takes the door off of it’s hinges and wiggles it out of the lock. Behind the door is a bunch of boxes stacked messily on top of each other, with things hanging out of them and other items scattered on top. Just a bunch of things out of order and in a giant pile.

Eddie laughs, at the stupidity of everything really. He thought it was going to be something much worse, but it’s just stuff. A messy pile of stuff.

“What’s so funny,” Nancy says as she rounds the corner, eyes widening when she realizes what Eddie did. “No, no, no. You opened it?”

Eddie continues to laugh. “This is what you wanted to keep hidden for so long?”

“Yes,” she exclaims, slapping his arm. “Now everyone’s going to know.”

“That you’re secretly messy,” he giggles.

Nancy’s face contorts with a mix of anger and sadness. “Yes, you shithead.”

“Wait, Nance, Nancy,” he calls out as she starts to walk away. “You are really so scared of people finding out that you have a secret mess of shame. Most people do. I do.”

“Yeah, but it’s your entire room so that doesn’t count.”

Eddie tilts his head to the side, “That’s fair. But this,” he gestures to the mess in the closet, “is nothing.”

“So everyone won’t rip me to shreds knowing that I’m messy?” she says annoyed, knowing exactly what type of friends they have.

“That’s only if they figure it out. I’ll get the door back on, we can forget about this.”

Nancy crosses her arms, rolling her eyes. “One, I’m putting the door back on, I don’t want you breaking it. And two, are you really not going to say anything about this?”

“Not if you don’t want me to, really. I’ll just forget about the closet. I just, I want you to know that you didn’t have to keep this from me. People are messy, even the cleanest ones. Nothing wrong with it.”

“You’re an idiot, but thank, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @mentallyundone, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord

#morgan's friends au #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #platonic ednancy #platonic stobin #apartment shenanigans #friends au #modern au

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

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Can you do something with the devil and and an angel that ends up being a customer to the bar at the casino bc the job they have in heaven is stressful? Just imagine how awkward that would be at first lol-

"Oh hello, angel! What can I-”

“Ohhh haha, I get--*hic*--it! Cuz you’re a literal angel!”

“What’s an angel like you doin’ here? Couldn’t resist the temptation, eh?”

“Ethan, Rummy..don’t be rude.” Ginette lightly scolded her fellow bartenders, before turning back to you with an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘bout that. What’ll it be today, sweetie?”

You just sighed, keeping your wings tucked against your sides as you gazed at the menu for a brief moment. It wasn’t often that you came down to the casino’s bar, but today you especially needed a break from your heavenly duties. Just a small one. Nobody upstairs would even know you stopped in.

"I’ll have the-”

“Well I’ll be damned! An angel in the Devil’s Casino?!!”

Hearing the laughter of a certain devilish king, you looked to see the Devil himself stepping up to the counter, intrigued by your presence.

Most customers would quiver at the sight of him--or easily fall for his deals and promises. But you weren’t deceived by his tricks, nor were you about to jump up and reprimand him for anything. Instead you just politely smiled. “Yep. Is..there a problem?”

He blinked several times, huffing. “Why--no. I...I welcome the residents of all kinds. But..I mean...you’re an angel in a casino.”

“And..?”

“And a casino is, ya know, a place that runs off of temptation and sin? A place that goes against everything the big man upstairs taught you??!” His eye twitched.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You waved him off, turning back to Ginette as you ordered your drink. Even still you could sense the Devil’s yellow gaze lingering on you, so you looked at him again. “Before you ask, I have no interest in gambling.”

“That doesn’t matter! I thought your job was to lead poor souls away from this place. Is there some sort of protest going on?”

“This isn’t exactly a “protest”. And for your information, we angels get different jobs every day.”

“Oh? So what was today’s “job” that was so unbearable that it drove you here, of all places?” Propping his trident against the counter, Devil leaned closer to you with interest.

After getting your drink, you took a sip and sighed in content, savoring the taste. Then you put the glass back down before explaining your assignment to him.

“I had to help the ghosts haunting the second mausoleum find peace. They keep freaking out Grim and he refuses to sleep because of all the noises he hears at night.” You took a slightly bigger swig. “Stupid pink spirits..they just wanna make a mess out of alllll the artifacts. My wings can parry slap them to get their attention, and even then they’re stubborn little fellas. If I don’t meet a certain quota I get in trouble with my superiors. As if I’m the one who put them there...!”

The demon king only stared as you rambled on and on, finally understanding your reasons. He thought that heaven was all about angels frolicking in the clouds, helping souls enter the pearly gates, and blessing children’s dreams...but it turns out it’s a tough job even for you.

So much so it tempted you to come here for a break.

As soon as you finished your rant, a devious grin appeared on his face. “So you say those pesky ghosts won’t leave? Must be such a burden for-”

“No.”

The grin quickly fell. “....you didn’t even let me-”

“I know what you're plotting. I'm immune to your temptations, Lucifer. Your flattery and petulance won’t get you anywhere with me.”

Growling, a bit of fire flashed in his eyes, though he composed himself and collected his trident and a random drink left on the table. “Fine. It was worth a shot...I'll leave you be. Do enjoy your stay here. You’re welcomed back anytime.” He chuckled before finally leaving you alone.

Ginette was only half-listening to the conversation as she cleaned a glass, but she took pity on you for putting up with him. “Nice one. Ya know very few folks get mouthy with the Devil an’ live to tell the tale.”

“Guess I’m lucky then.” You smiled lightly and pushed your nearly-empty glass towards her. “When you get the chance, I’ll have another round."

Yep.

This casino was your sweet retreat.

#clanask #anonymous #cuphead x reader #cuphead devil x reader #devil x reader #angel reader #tipsy troop #headcanons

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colesabi · 22 days

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20 Questions for Fic Authors

Thank you @silvercap for the tag!! :))

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

49,895

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Resident Evil exclusively but do have a couple for Pokemon.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I don’t have a whole bunch and most of mine are relatively new (posted within the last year)

I. When Time Runs Out with 155

II. Fragment with 70

III. I’d Remember You Fondly If You Hadn’t Betrayed Me with 34

IV. The After with 25

V. Under The Skin with 25

5. Do you respond to comments?

Absolutely! I love and cherish each comment I receive.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Haha umm okay probably, ‘I Will Haunt You Forever’ - MC straight up is sacrificed so… I’d put Fragment here if I had posted it with the alternate ending…. 👀

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I’m an angst queen so happiness is a relative term lol but I guess ‘When Time Runs Out’

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I hope I don’t ever. Haven’t gotten any yet.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

Yep. Not a whole heck of a lot. I try to keep it plot relevant except for my prompt based one-shots, those just are self indulgent. lol.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

God I hope not…

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

So my very first is Serennedy but Chreon has overtaken that. I also enjoy Metaltango and Nivennedy. ClaireJill is awesome too. I’ll also scope out OT3’s in the form of Nivennedyfield and whatever the ship name is for Leon/Luis/Ada.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don’t have too many WIPs because it stresses me out to be working on so many things at once but probably the Leon one-shot I have where he wakes up in a morgue. I keep thinking I’ll get back to it and will write a little every now and then but then lose interest.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've gotten the most compliments/comments that my characterizations are good. I think my dialogue is pretty passable. Lol.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably just going for it and not fully fleshing the plot out. Sometimes I’ll find myself re-reading something after I’ve posted and think I should have done more there.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’m mildly familiar with Spanish and can pass with French but I am too chicken to even attempt it in writing which is why I won’t write Luis… even though I would love to do a Serennedy fic. Also, his is more Castilian so that’s different than the Spanish I’m used too.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Very very first, probably Yu-Gi-Oh but I have no idea where those are on the internet. That was SO long ago.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Fragment, no question. I put my heart and soul and a piece of me in that one.

Tagging- anyone else who wants to participate!

#writing #tag game #my writing #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic

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greenhikingboots · 9 months

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Ship Game. Answer with a GIF. No repeats. 1. First Ship I thought long and hard about it, and I think my first ship must have been Mulan and Li from Disney’s Mulan. The movie came out when I was just old enough to start thinking critically about movies, noticing what I liked and didn’t like. And I realized I really, really liked Mulan and Li as individual characters, but I didn’t like that we didn’t get to see them fall in love — just the spark of something starting at the end of the movie. I think it was the first time I daydreamed about different scenarios that could have played out between them, which is basically the foundation of fanfiction, right? So…. count it!

2. First OTP This has to be Draco and Hermione (Dramione) from Harry Potter. This is the ship that got me into reading fanfiction and actually engaging in fandom spaces. Unfinished fics still haunt my Google Docs, and I hope one day I’m going to come back to this ship and finish them. Basically, I love thinking about Draco’s possible redemption arc and I love that a relationship with Hermione helps explore and enhance it. Oh, and the angst!

3. Current Favorite Sydney and Carmen from The Bear. It took until the end of the most recent season for the appeal to sink in, and I’d like to see more positive moments between them before romantic feelings solidify. But I think they’ve got a great foundation. Plenty of conflict, sure, but relationship experts say the frequency of conflicts and the subject matter of conflicts aren’t what indicate success in relationships. It’s all about how conflicts are repaired. And I LOVE the way they do repairs together. So vulnerable. So willing to accept responsibility and try to change. Looking forward to their development in future seasons.

4. Shipped From the First Minute Josh and Donna from The West Wing. I watched this show way after it ended and found myself just wanting more and more of them. Like, they could have been the main characters instead of having an ensemble cast and I would have been perfectly content. Playful banter right off the bat. She keeps him in line. He’d be lost without her. They’re both smitten but dammit they work at the White House and that means they have to keep things professional. The pining! Do yourself a favor and go watch YouTube videos of just them. You won’t regret it.

5. Wish They’d Been Endgame I’m putting Jon and Sansa (Jonsa) here so that I have a sensible spot left for other ships. I do believe they’ll be endgame in the books, if we ever get them, so this answer is for Game of Thrones specifically. We’ve all read, reblogged, and probably written a few of our own posts about how many different ways the show went sideways. I have nothing new to say here and to recap previous thoughts would take way too many paragraphs. Jon, Sansa, and the Stark legacy all deserved so much better. That’s the short of it.

6. Wish They’d Been Canon As some other answers hint at, I typically empathize with writers’ choices even if they don’t fit my personal preference. So it was hard to think of a couple that wasn’t canon but I truly thought should have been from a cohesive narrative perspective. Maybe Caleb and Maeve from Westworld? This show went more and more off the rails with each season, so a lot more than ship dynamics would have to change to redeem it in my opinion. And I definitely wouldn’t want Caleb to have been unfaithful to his wife. But they showed us such a stronger bond between him and his daughter and between him and Maeve compared to him and his wife that, like…. maybe his wife shouldn’t have even been a character? Write her out completely, as early as possible? And then that strong partnership between Caleb and Maeve could have been something even more? Yep, that would have been better.

7. You Like But Most of Fandom Hates Do people *hate* Jacob and Bella (Jella) from Twilight? I don’t know, but I like it 100 times more than Bella and Edward, and I think that’s probably pretty uncommon. Actually, in my college public speaking class, we had an assignment where we had to have a partner and write persuasive speeches from opposing views. And I was like, “Who wants to be my partner and have fun with this by debating Twilight ships?” I compared Jella against serious research about successful relationships and ACED IT. My instructor liked my speech so much she asked me to give it a second time to another class she taught while she recorded it. I would pay money to be able to track down a copy of that. A+ work.

8. Don’t Even Watch But Ship Them Anyway Eddie and Chrissy (HellCheer) from Stranger Things. Opposites attract? Grumpy sunshine appearing but maybe not really? Outcast boy and popular girl? A ship name that isn’t about their names? DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE? What’s not to love, you know? Plus, this ship’s fans make amazing art! And if I remember correctly, it loosely inspired a Jonsa AU fic I really enjoyed, lounge act.

9. Wish They’d Had a Different Storyline Stefan and Caroline (Steroline) from the Vampire Diaries. I’ve only dabbled in this fandom, but it seems like Klaus and Caroline (Klaroline) is a much more popular ship. They had great chemistry, so I get the appeal. But the surface-level unrequited crush to reluctant mentor/mentee to genuine friends to platonic soulmates to lovers slow burn of Steroline is just chef's kiss. But then — spoiler alert — right after they get married, Stefan sacrifices himself so his brother and ex-girlfriend can be together? From a writer’s perspective, I get that ending. Full circle, brotherly love, blah blah blah. But I liked Stefan and Caroline so much more than Damon and Elena and would have rather seen the former couple get the happy ending.

10. Favorite that was Endgame Coach Eric Taylor and his wife Tami Taylor from Friday Night Lights. Do they count? They were together the entire series and had few serious marital conflicts. So there was never any threat of being something other than endgame. But I’m picking them anyway. I love their classic bickering like an old married couple and the way they still lust for each other after so many years. And I love, love, love that the series finale ended with them making a move that was more for her career than his. Relationship goals.

#ship game #dramione #jonsa #jella #carmen x sydney #josh x donna #coach x tami #maeve x caleb #steroline #mulan #hellcheer

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incalyscent-writes · 2 years

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#50 just do something that'll make me have a stroke ❤️

there is an old belief, in which the camera steals the soul of its subject. which would mean, in essence, that every camera would be haunted by those still living.

it’s stupid. miles has always thought it was stupid. but even now, as he rolls over in the splintered wood and reaches for his camera, he has to acknowledge the truth in it. what does the cracked screen of his camcorder let loose? in some way, he has to realize that all these men are all dead. the dust falls on him like ash. he never turns the lens on himself.

oh, what good is it if his body can knit itself back together, when his brain feels like splintered glass? if the bullets still rip through him the same? and in those moments before miles hits the ground he thinks apostle, heretic. how could he be both at once?

doesn’t matter in the long run, because the walrider puts him back together, and he watches his anger return manifested in front of his eyes in the form of a beast. and if that doesn’t fuck someone up, nothing will.

in the torah, god flooded the world to begin anew, wipe the shit off his shoes. miles feels that water as his jeep drives away from him, static and skittering. he’d flood the world. he’d do it.

with waylon’s email, mount massive dies. it should be over. that wretched place took miles’ fingers, took no small amount of autonomy. it should be over but its remnants keep crawling under his skin, fizz and bubble at his nerves.

it doesn’t feel like something to be worshiped, but then again, it’s part of him now, isn’t it? only the part of himself that was a starving rat made it out of mount massive. only the primal, clawing thing that could hardly call itself a man, padded out with a beast.

all that footage he took. all those dead men. miles listens to his own shaking breath on the tape and finds he doesn’t recognize it at all.

it’s fate, not god, that puts miles in the same loony bin as waylon park.

miles is beginning to think it would have been mercy to die riddled with bullets. maybe he wouldn’t have been a martyr. it would have been better than to listen to the self-flagellation tripping its way out of waylon’s mouth.

obviously there are things in miles’ head that he won’t voice out loud. he doesn’t like waylon. not really. but he doesn’t shove him away, because there’s no one else in the fucking world that can even begin to know what it was like in there.

when he closes his eyes there is the walrider. he knows what a burning man smells like. he can no longer make a fist without the pain. he couldn’t cup something in his hands if he wanted to, and he feels like he is dying of thirst because of it.

apostle and heretic. died and reborn.

it’s dark. miles has been hissing at the light. he’s only allowed to go outside to smoke, so that’s what he does. handling the lighter is hard, harder when he’s shaking from the withdrawals of whatever they’re pumping him full of. gabapentin, lithium, fuck knows what else, keeping the beast asleep.

he’s about to give up when the lighter is taken from his fingers. waylon lights it, and it’s with no small amount of reluctance that miles uses that small flame to light up.

“i don’t know anything about you,” waylon says. he has a pack of smokes but never lights them. he’s just slipping one through his fingers.

“yep,” miles says through a lungful of smoke.

“tell me a secret?”

“fuck you.”

waylon’s eyes dart to the floor. he shifts on his feet, weight off that bad leg, like he’ll be doing for the rest of his life.

miles thinks of the cracked camera lens. feels the walrider crawling around his skin.

“sometimes i think i’m dead.”

waylon’s gaze comes back up. miles doesn’t look at him, already knows that hopeful glimmer in his eye. he doesn’t give him anything else. what else was there to give?

miles snubs his smoke out on his boot. he leaves waylon outside, shivering.

murkoff withers. mount massive chokes. miles does not turn and look at either of them, his resolve already turned to salt.

“sometimes i think i’m dead too,” waylon says, quiet, bent over the table, his food long forgotten, “and if i’m not i wish i was.”

miles just chews, not tasting. the man ruined his life. god, if he’d never seen that fucking email, if he’d kept his nose clean of it, where would be be now? something else. maybe bored out of his skull. something better than this. anything was better.

“you’ll get over it,” is what he says eventually, because he might. waylon just smiles, small and rueful, at his unfinished tray.

the past is the past, isn’t it? waylon lived it. miles is still living it.

the difference between the saint and the whore. god, what a joke.

there is a superstition that the camera steals the soul of its subject, and it’s stupid. but miles can’t help but feel like he’s had nothing inside of him since staggering out of mount massive, choking up bullets. at the end of the day, we can argue the validity of the concept of the soul for days and days, but that cracked camera screen haunts miles in his dreams more than anything else.

#finally outlast fic for u #outlast stuff #my fic #outlast

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Burn The Witch 14 - Haunt [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: It’s always difficult to keep secrets.

Series Masterlist

Well then.

Apparently this was how civilians dated.

You couldn’t exactly say you were very familiar with it. Your line of work didn’t exactly allow you to date and do normal couple stuff, let alone with a civilian. Spies were easier, you didn’t trust them and you knew they didn’t trust you.

Except for missions, you didn’t have any date nights unless they included going after targets.

That was why posing as a civilian was almost a relief. It was simpler, more fun, more peaceful-

Even happier.

“What do you mean you can’t give me a clue?” you asked, “It’s date night, you’re supposed to give me a clue. Those are the rules.”

“I don’t remember any rule like that.”

You slurped on the milkshake, dangling your legs back and forth on the high seat you were perched on.

“Well, how am I supposed to know what to wear then?”

Bucky tilted his head, eyeing your uniform with a grin on his face and you slapped at his arm playfully.

“Are you serious?”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “I said nothing.”

“I refuse to believe you find this uniform hot.”

“Why?”

“Bucky, just look at this!”

“Believe it or not I’ve been looking at it for some time now.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re so full of it.”

“Oh trust me darling, I’m completely sincere.”

You raised your brows, “How?”

He heaved a sigh and looked like he was considering whether he should tell you or not while you waited patiently.

“When we were—“ he licked his lips, “When—uh, back in the 40s, one of my buddies, he had this poster on the wall of the barrack we were staying in.”

You gawked at him, “A poster of…?”

“A pin up.”

“In this uniform?”

“Almost the same, yeah.”

You let out a clear laugh, “Oh my God, that’s why you reacted like that when you first saw me in this?”

The tips of his ears went pink before he dragged his gaze from yours and you awwed.

“Then it’s only fair if I ask you to return the favor and dress up from 40s.”

“As if you know any—“

“Clark Gable.” You cut him off and scrunched up your face, “Was that too quick?”

“A little, yeah,” he said, “Do you want to try again?”

“….Yes please.”

“As if you know anyone from those times.”

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, “I’m just pulling this idea out of thin air, but Clark Gable.”

“I don’t think I can pull off that mustache, Y/N.”

“I mean have you tried?” you asked, narrowing your eyes and he shook his head.

“Stop imagining me with that mustache.”

“You would look good!” you insisted, grinning mischievously and he heaved a sigh.

“Clark Gable? Seriously?”

“Bucky, I’m the one who’s dressed up like a pin up your buddies used to fantasize about, so I feel like you should give me some credit here.”

“Fair enough.”

“Why thank you,” you pointed out, “So? Where are we going?”

“You can ask as much as you want,” Bucky grinned, “It’s not going to work.”

You threw your head back, letting out a whine. “But I want to know!” you said, “Okay, is it inside or outside?”

“Outside.”

“A concert!”

“Not a concert.”

You pursed your lips, deep in thought, “…Flea market. You’re taking me to the flea market.”

He pulled his brows together, confusion written all over his face, “You think we used to go to flea markets on a date?”

“Picnic!”

“In the evening?” he asked and you pouted.

“It would be a romantic evening picnic.”

“Do you want to have a romantic evening picnic?”

You shook your head fervently, “I want whatever you have planned!”

“Nah, I’m putting romantic evening picnic on the list.”

“You have a list?” you asked and he nodded.

“Yep.”

“Can I see it?”

“No.”

You huffed out, making him laugh, “Aw, you’re adorable when you’re frustrated.”

“Bucky!” you whined again, making his smile bigger.

“Yes darling?”

“It’s not fair,” you insisted but before you could say anything else, you heard Tara’s voice.

“Hey lovebirds,” she said, “I hate to interrupt because you two make a beautiful couple, but your break is almost over and I’m going to need some help at the freezer.”

Bucky’s body tensed up beside yours but only for a second, and you pressed your lips together.

Right. Freezer probably didn’t bring up good memories.

“I can help if you want?” Bucky said slowly and you shook your head.

“Nope. Company policy, only staff can go in.” You leaned in to peck him on the lips, “What time will you pick me up?”

“Around 8:30.” He stole another kiss from you and stood up, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight!”

“Have a nice day Tara.”

“You too Romeo,” Tara said as he left the shop and you followed her to the freezer.

“He is so whipped,” she commented, making you grin, “And so are you.”

Your jaw dropped, “Hey!” you said as you helped her with the chocolate milkshake container, “Not nice!”

“I can already picture how cute your children will be.”

You almost dropped the container at the mention but managed to catch it and pull yourself together.

“Oh I don’t think…” you trailed off, trying to ignore the pang at the pit of your stomach, “I don’t think he wants—um, I don’t think we—“

“Aw you really are cute,” Tara said, “Come on now. Are you telling me you never thought about a future with him?”

The image that flashed in front of your eyes was almost taunting you but you bit inside your cheek, then shook your head.

“My last relationship ended really badly,” you explained, “And Bucky has had a rough couple of….”

Decades.

“Years,” you said, “And everything is pretty complicated, I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Well, do you want it to be possible?”

You pushed your hair back and grabbed the nearest set of jars to put them on the shelf one by one, just so you could keep yourself busy.

“It doesn’t really matter what I want,” you heard yourself say, “It won’t make any difference in the future either.”

***

“A funfair,” Chloe looked up with a bright smile on her face as soon as you jumped up to sit on her desk. “He’s taking you to a funfair.”

“Wait, really?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s cute.”

“Who knew The Winter Soldier could be romantic?” she said, “I’d probably swoon if someone took me to a funfair.”

You could swear Keith appeared out of thin air behind you, “What?”

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed and pressed a hand over your chest, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Who’s swooning?”

“Barnes is taking Y/N to a funfair,” Chloe said, “Isn’t that romantic?”

“You find funfairs romantic?”

“Yeah!”

“Keith,” you raised your brows, “Aren’t you busy?”

“Nope, General is talking to Julian so I’m not busy at all.”

You heaved a sigh, “My meeting with him lasted like an hour, how did he let you go so fast?”

“Easy. I’m not the team leader.”

You sipped your coffee, crossing your legs and Keith grinned.

“So, did you tell her yet?”

Chloe frowned, “Did she tell me what yet?”

“Why Barnes stayed over at your place until midnight last night?”

“Y/N!” Chloe gasped, “You promised we would go lingerie shopping before you slept with him!”

“First of all, I didn’t sleep with him, and second of all, Keith nosey neighbor much?”

“It’s literally my job Y/N.”

“What happened?” Chloe asked, barely able to sit straight as Julian walked past you three to check his laptop on an empty desk near Chloe’s. You gritted your teeth, and turned to Chloe.

“Hm?”

“You have to tell us!” she said and Keith laughed.

“At least give us a base.”

“Second base?” Chloe offered and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Julian clenching his jaw.

“Nah no way,” Keith said, “The guy hasn’t been getting laid since what? 40s? Third base.”

No bases. None at all, Bucky was a gentleman and seeing that you were quite shaken up last night, he had just held you while you two watched that ridiculous action movie until you could calm down a little.

He hadn’t even asked any questions.

“Do you think he—“

“Y/N,” Julian’s voice cut through Chloe’s, “Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”

You pulled your brows together, “About what?”

“The mission.”

You eyed him up and down, then shrugged your shoulders and made your way to the nearest empty room, which happened to be a meeting room. He followed you inside and closed the door behind him as you turned around to look at him, already dreading this conversation.

“So?”

“So General agrees with me.”

Your head shot up, “I beg your pardon?”

“He agrees that it was quick thinking on my part when Barnes walked in on us arguing,” he said, making you grit your teeth, “Granted it wasn’t idea, but we can turn it around to work on our advantage—“

“Bullshit,” you cut him off, “Are you serious?”

“To repeat, an ex-boyfriend creates an environment of competition,” he said, making you scrunch up your nose in distaste.

“Unbelievable,” you said, “You know, just because General doesn’t see through this whole façade doesn’t mean you fool everyone else in here.”

“What façade?”

“Oh give me a break!” you let out a humorless laugh, “This whole teammate trying to be helpful bullshit. You don’t think anyone but yourself, you’ve proven you can’t be trusted and you want to take over this mission.”

“I couldn’t take over this mission if I tried,” he pointed out “I’m not Barnes’ type.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh look at you, you got jokes now.”

“Just saying, I wouldn’t look as cute in that uniform.”

“Fuck you.”

“Y/N—“

“You’re not taking over my mission.”

“I’m not trying to take over your mission,” he explained patiently, “I’m trying to help you, is that so hard to believe?”

“I think we both know you couldn’t care less about me,” you said, “As that last mission proved.”

The amused, taunting light in his eyes was dimmed in a second as he gawked at you, brows pulled together in confusion.

“What?” he asked after a beat, “You think I don’t care about you?”

You let out a laugh, “I’m sorry, is that a trick question?” you asked, “You sure as hell didn’t care back then.”

He ran a hand over his face, “I think you and I remember that last mission quite differently,” he said, “I did what I had to do—“

“Uh huh.”

“I thought you would do the same,” he insisted, “Y/N, I was trying to get us out of there, just because I beat you to it—“

“I would never!” you snapped at him and he shook his head.

“Have you ever thought maybe that’s a problem?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you think the General put me into this mission?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Are we going to pretend you’re here to do something else other than spying on me and reporting it back?”

“No, that’s not my mission,” he said, “I’m here to make sure you don’t do what you always do.”

“What, nailing the mission?”

“Running headfirst into danger,” he said, “You ran into world’s most dangerous assassin whom you’re playing the honeypot for, and any other spy would get the fuck out of there but what did you do? You taunted him. Twice.”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I know Bucky better than you or the General—“

“You mean the Winter Soldier?”

“…Yeah,” you corrected yourself, “Yeah I know the Winter Soldier better than you two do. Better than anyone here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “I don’t know who told you otherwise, but not your every decision is right on missions. You keep taking unnecessary risks because you think it’s fun.”

“Maybe. But hey, at least I don’t leave people to die.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked and he closed his eyes for a moment as if it was way too difficult for him to hear and opened them again.

“I didn’t leave you to die, Y/N.”

You scoffed, “Alright,” you said, walking to the door, “We’re done here—“

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Your hand on the doorknob froze and you looked over your shoulder, “I’m sorry?”

“Are you sleeping with Barnes?”

“Who wants to know?” you asked, “You or the General?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah. If it’s you, I can ask why it’s any of your business.”

He shifted his weight, suddenly dragging his gaze from yours.

“I just…” he murmured, “I don’t like it.”

You paused for a moment, trying to wrap your head around the idea before you clicked your tongue.

“Well that’s a relief,” you stated, “I don’t give a fuck what you like.”

With that, you swung open the door and left the meeting room, not even looking back once.

***

In your defense, when you went to bed for a nap you didn’t think that 15 minute nap would turn into a whole two hours. You were still groggy by the time you woke up and your hair was a mess and you still had no idea what to wear and—

You were starving and way too thirsty.

You stretched out as you walked to the kitchen, still trying to pull yourself together but it was already dark outside so it was making things even worse. You flipped the switch and opened the fridge to grab the water bottle, uncapping it and taking big gulps. After you were done, you took out two slices of bread and peanut butter and jam, then quickly made a sandwich to take a bite. Leaning back, you let out a sigh and eyed the gun on the table.

You had a feeling the General would send you on another night mission soon.

You took another bite of your sandwich but your head shot up when you heard the doorbell ring and you almost dropped the water bottle but caught it mid-air.

“Shit…” you whispered and grabbed the gun to put it in the kitchen cabinet, and placed the sandwich on the plate, then made your way to the door to open it.

A fond smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as soon as he took in your disheveled appearance, “Hello there Dracula.”

“I’m so sorry,” you tried to fix your hair, “I…I was taking a nap and then I didn’t hear my alarm and—“

“Don’t worry about it darling,” he said, “You look beautiful.”

“I look like a mess,” you corrected him, scrunching up your nose and stepped aside so that he could walk in. He pulled you closer to peck you on the lips.

“Hi.”

“Hi back,” you smiled up at him and made your way to the kitchen with him following you suit.

“I’m just going to finish this and then I’ll get ready in like ten minutes, promise!”

“Not a problem,” he said as you jumped up to sit on the counter, dangling your legs, “If you want to stay in tonight—“

“No no!” you interrupted him, “I want to go to…um, wherever it is we’re going. Do you want some?” you held up the sandwich, “I could make you one too.”

Bucky stepped closer to you to take a bite of your sandwich, making you giggle.

“I mean do you want your own?”

“You’re not good with sharing?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, still smiling as he put his palms on the counter either side of your legs, caging you in.

“No?”

“Nuh uh.” You said, then leaned in to peck him on the lips again before you pulled back to take a bite out of your sandwich.

“How was your day?” you asked, and he heaved a sigh.

“Mm, uneventful.”

“Uneventful can be a nice change.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah I mean…at least your ex doesn’t show up out of nowhere,” you paused for a moment, “Or in your case, doesn’t escape from nursing home.”

He chuckled, his thumbs caressing the soft skin of your legs, making you distracted for a moment as the warmth filled you again.

“Did he visit you again?”

You tried to focus and looked up at him, “Hm?”

“Julian.”

“Oh,” you made a face and shook your head, “No. No but something tells me that wasn’t the last time I saw him.”

“Really?” he said, “I still feel like the next time he shows up you should let me know so that I can—“

“I already know what you’re going to say, and no.”

“What was I going to say?”

“Some macho showdown nonsense,” you said with a laugh, “Seriously. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” he said with a sigh, “But the guy said and I quote, he would take you away from me, so forgive me if I want to have a talk with him.”

You rolled your eyes, “No one is taking anyone from anyone,” you said, “Number one, we don’t live in Stone Age. Number two, I’m quite happy with who I am dating now.”

A small smile curled his lips, “Are you?”

“I mean,” you heaved a dramatic sigh, “I would be happier if my date told me where we’re going but can’t win ‘em all.”

You pressed a kiss on his cheek and jumped down.

“Okay, I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes, knock yourself out,” you said, “There’s beer in the fridge if you want.”

“Thanks,” he said and you walked to your bedroom to open your closet, then grabbed a dress and put it on. After quickly doing your make up, you found the lipstick you were looking for and started applying it.

“Darling do you have a bottle opener?”

“Yes, it’s in the kitchen cabinet!” you called out and checked your reflection in the mirror before your mind caught up to what you had just said. Panic crashed into you, knocking the breath out of you and you dropped the lipstick to rush to the kitchen.

“Bucky wait—“ you started but as soon as you saw the open cabinet, your stomach dropped. He looked at you over his shoulder with a frown on his face, then turned around and held up your gun, making you swallow thickly.

“So,” he said, his gaze pinning you to your spot. “Anything you would like to tell me?”

Chapter 15

#bucky barnes #tfatws #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Who’s Watching

Requested by @cai-neki: May i ask a request; Youngest Shelby!reader one an angsty again, where someone's haunting the reader (she couldn't grasp if it's a past memory or person) ending up into various looks from her brothers thinking she may have a trauma but it turns out there is really someone following her around. Kinda long and messsy but yeah.

Pairing: Shelby & Gray Family + Shelby!Female!Reader

Warnings: Stalkers, swearing, my horrible reference in the title, angst

Words: 1,642

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @peakysputain, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @cai-neki, @simonsbluee, @marquelapage, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @thewarriorprincessxo

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Her chest heaved with uneven breaths as she slammed the front door shut behind her, back pressed against it. Her brothers walked in to see what the noise was about, surprised to see their sister’s disheveled body blocking the door.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Arthur exclaimed first. He eyed her with wide curious eyes, not all that sure whether he should be mad at her or getting revenge for her.

“S- some- someone-” She couldn’t form a full word with how heavy she was breathing, gasping for air as she rested her hands on her knees.

“Someone what? Did they follow you?” Tommy moved to the windows, looking around before drawing the blinds. “Are you alright?”

“W-wat-wah-”

“Water. Get her some water, Finn!” Arthur yelled before turning back to his sister. “Nod or shake your head. Are you alright?”

She shrugged.

“Do you need help?”

Again, she shrugged.

“Did they want to kill you?”

She shrugged once again, this time taking the water as Finn passed the glass to her.

“Can you stop fucking shrugging?”

A few gulps of water later, the cold liquid soothing her dry throat, she spoke up. Her breathing was still off, but she was recovering. “Someone was following me. I don’t know if they’re trying to kill me or if they followed me home, I just know that I did the thing you taught me-”

“What thing?” Finn furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Tommy. He told me that if I got a bad feeling about someone walking in the same direction as me, to turn a couple times, walk in directions off-route. This person followed me even then. As soon as I realized that, I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t even take the time to look back.”

“Good girl.” Every head in the room turned to Pol, who leaned against the door-frame of the family room. She slowly walked forward, moving her niece aside to look around outside the door before shutting it and locking it. Tommy gave her a questioning glance, to which she replied, “all clear at the front door.”

“Alright. Finn, go check the back, Arthur, can you patrol the house? If one of the doors were unlocked, they could have gotten in while we were talking.”

“Yep.”

The three waited in the main room for over an hour. Tommy and Polly took turns comforting Y/n as they waited for the boys to return. When Finn and Arthur did indeed return, Tommy was suddenly more doubtful than Y/n expected. Finn confirmed that all the doors were locked, Arthur reporting no one but themselves in the home.

Thomas turned toward his sister. “Are you sure someone was following you? Did you forget a turn and assume they were?”

“What?” Y/n’s face morphed into an expression of disbelief, hurt that her brother would question her. She was horrified, looking as if she’d seen a ghost, when she ran inside. The entire time she was running, her body felt uneasy, like she would faint had she stopped for even a second. It felt like her stomach had dropped.

“Are you one-hundred percent serious?”

“Yes- well- I-” It was ironic. She’d looked like she’d seen a ghost and for a split second, she thought it was a ghost. Had she been hallucinating? No, the chase felt too real. Whether it be a person or something from long ago, she knew it was after her. “I don’t know if they were human but-”

“You don’t know if they were human?” Arthur cackled. “Tommy, she thinks a mummy ran after her!”

“I never said that!”

“Was it a werewolf? Was he going to eat you? Gobble you up?” Arthur continued to poke fun. Only Thomas, Polly, and Y/n remained straight-faced. Polly noticed Y/n tearing up, the genuine hurt in her eyes saying that whatever it was, she was still terrified for her life.

“Arthur. Stop.” Although he continued to chortle, Finn’s laughter faded as he made eye-contact with his aunt. “Arthur.”

Finn nudged Arthur harshly. He stopped laughing and turned to Pol. “Yeah?”

“Stop teasing your sister right this damn moment or I’ll find whatever was chasing her and let it have you instead. She was beyond terrified. Look at her!” Polly snapped. “Can’t you see she thought she was literally going to die?!”

As the arguing went on, Y/n sighed and headed to her room. Her aunt was a great save, but that didn’t mean she believed her either. Only defending her due to catching how mortified she was. The embarrassment gifted to herself by a simple overthinking thought. ‘What if I was only imagining things...’ her brothers made her second guess herself.

The night went on, lights turning off, Shelbys and Grays lying in their beds, until everyone in the home was fast asleep. The windows and doors were locked, blinds drawn, and home quiet. The creaking of the wood, however, was new. It sounded like someone was stirring, but no one was awake to hear it.

Screaming awoke the members of the Shelby home. John had just returned, Ada as well, and had a head start to their sister’s room. She had sat up so quick it felt like she should’ve gotten whiplash. When the other four got to Y/n’s room, Ada was sitting on the bed beside Y/n, holding her close to her, and John was sitting on the edge of the bed, shooting her a sympathetic look.

“Did you see them again?” Finn inquired. Arthur slapped him up the back of the head, earning a glare from his little brother. “I’m being serious!” He whisper yelled at Arthur, only to be ignored.

“See who?” Ada looked at her family with widened eyes of confusion. She turned to her sister then back to her brothers and aunt. “What happened?”

“Ada. I’ll um...tell you in the study, okay?” Polly mumbled softly. Ada nodded and rose from the bed, hugging Y/n reassuringly before walking to her aunt. Both women stopped in their tracks as Y/n’s voice sounded again.

“I had a nightmare. The same person. They were in...here. My room. They opened my door and began to walk over to my bed. I couldn’t move. I was terrified. I thought it was all over, but another door opened and the person ran away. I screamed when I could, but for some reason, it was delayed.” She didn’t even take a break to breath or rethink details. It was like she was reliving it even at that very moment.

Tommy looked concerned. He whispered something to Pol before gathering his brothers and the other two females. They left the room, Tommy closing the door behind him, and left Y/n by herself to meet in the study.

“She’s got some kinda flashbacks or something like that.” Finn commented.

“We went to war, she...well, whatever happened, it wasn’t as bad as war. I doubt it’s some kind of thing she’d seen. Perhaps it’s her imagination again.” Arthur grunted in response.

The three older brothers had dealt with PTSD before, the effects similar to Y/n’s awakening, but Arthur didn’t believe she was hurt. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. The man wanted his little sister to be safe, and knowing he couldn’t keep her so would hurt him more than the war did.

“I say it’s a trauma.”

“What kind?” Ada was quick to question Thomas, as per usual. “Injury related or event caused?”

“Either. If she hit her head, perhaps walked into something on the way home, or if she saw something she didn’t want to see...”

Unbeknownst to the family in the study, Y/n was on the other side of the doors. She pushed them open with a furry. “I’m not traumatized. Nothing that happened is from my imagination or some injury! This person is real and no matter what you do or say, they won’t stop.” She stormed out just as quickly as she stormed in, leaving her family to dwell in her warning.

She hadn’t left the home all day. It concerned the family, but they understood. No one had spoken a word to her since she’d made her point. When it was time to sleep again, Ada and Pol were the only ones to bid her goodnight, the boys cowardly, even more so when it came to admitting it.

The creaking occurred again. Y/n was awake this time, wide awake. The dream felt just as real as her escape had. Last night, she’d fallen asleep, given the person an advantage. Not tonight, she swore, not tonight.

Footsteps grew louder as they neared her door, the small squeak of the door opening causing Y/n to clench her eyes shut. Cold air followed the stranger; Y/n thought to herself, the person must have opened a window...but they were all locked, were they not?

She couldn’t be certain.

They stood over her bed, hesitating for whatever reason. Y/n had her own advantage this time. She wasn’t in sleep paralysis, she wasn’t incapable of showing the stalker what Shelbys learn since birth. Right as they reached for her, the mirror next to the wall by her bed positioned so she could see them, she slid under their squatted legs and darted out her bedroom door.

Behind her was not her concern as she ran for a specific room. Their footsteps thundered loudly, yet not loud enough to wake the rest of the family. Hot on her trail, they aggressively swung for her, but her distance was just far enough that they couldn’t reach her fully.

Reaching the room, she grabbed the first gun in sight, turning and firing. A few seconds later, steps padded throughout the house and stopped at the door. There they saw their little sister with a gun, standing over the person who’d been stalking her, wounded but not dead.

“Told you.”

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allzelemonz · 3 years

Text

‘Hit If Off’: Oswald Cobblepot X Male Reader

When your friends said you need more socialization you gave him your dirtiest look.

“You’re one to talk, Ed.”

“At least I go to work, you just sit there all day.”

“Work?”

“It may not be a traditional way of employment, but yes.” Ed gave you a look of annoyance over the frame of his glasses.

“Why do you want me to go out so bad?”

“In truth?” Ed raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Ed, tell me.”

“There’s this guy that won’t leave me alone and I need him to stop.”

“You want me to beat him up?” You gave your nerdy friend an odd look. Maybe he was going a bit too far into this whole Riddler thing.

“No, no, I just need him to be obsessed with someone, anyone other than me.”

“Oh, so you have an admirer?”

“Yes.” Ed confirmed.

“And you don’t like that?”

“Indeed.”

“And what is it you want me to do?”

“Just introduce yourself to him, he’ll love you.” Ed made his way to your closet and began throwing things around.

“Woah, wait, what’s in it for me?”

Ed turned to you with a bit of a grin of his face. “Why you, my dear friend, get to be floundered over by a rich man that will never stop loving you if you play it right.”

“Your friend is essentially a sugar daddy, Ed.”

Ed stopped to think for a moment. “I suppose, not much of a daddy.”

You let out a laugh that made Ed blush. He quickly shoved an assortment of clothes at you to get you to stop.

“Shut up and get dressed.”

“Sure thing, Eddie.” You grinned. “Just make sure you keep that daddy-dar under wraps.”

“(Y/n), I mean this in a friendly way, but shut up or that window will become a door.”

“Gotcha.” You nodded along to the half-hearted threat.

Ed had given you one of your standard outfits that you’d wear when you wanted to look attractive. That’s what made him a good friend, he knew you enough to pick an outfit that you would have yourself. He knew how much skin you were willing to show and how many layers you wanted.

“So what’s your stalker’s name?” You asked, now standing in front of a club while Ed picked lint off of your shoulder.

“Oswald.”

“As in Cobblepot?” You asked, pointing up at the club sign.

“Yep.”

“You want me to flirt with the Penguin?”

“He’s your type and you’re his.”

“How is that, Ed?”

“You’re both men.”

“That’s all you got! Really?” You sighed. “Ed, you’re asking me to flirt with a crime lord and the only reassurance that he won’t kill me is that I’m a guy.”

“I never said you had to flirt.”

“Ed!”

“What?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“I forget how socially inept you are sometimes.”

“I am not.”

“File girl.” You fake coughed out.

“Fine, fine, but this idea was more of…”

“Oh, so your villainous persona came up with this?”

“He’s better at social things.”

“That window you mentioned is gonna be your exit the next time you’re at my place.”

“(Y/n), please.” Ed grounded your heywire thoughts. “I really think this is worth it.”

You looked into Ed’s stupid, but truthful eyes and sighed. He really has a puppy-dog face when he tries.

“Fine, but if I die I’m gonna haunt you.”

Ed brought you into the club with a hand on your shoulder so you didn't get separated. The music was Jazz-centric and there were people all around drinking and talking. It wasn’t an overwhelming environment, just a comfortable one. Ed led you to the bar where you recognized the Penguin himself sat at the far end with a half drank glass of whiskey as he fussed over something in a black notebook.

“Oswald!” Ed called.

The Penguin looked up from the book. The sour look that had been on his face disappeared as soon as he saw Ed.

“Edward!’ The Penguin beamed. “I was just wondering where you were.”

“I was just getting my friend.: Ed turned to you. “This is (Y/n).”

Oswald’s eyes moved from Ed’s face to scan over you and there was a moment of lingering when he met your eyes. It took him a few moments to compose himself.

“A pleasure to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Oswald.”

He had a smile on your face that you couldn't quite tell if it was false or not.

“A pleasure to meet you too.” You shook his hand.

“Now, I have some things to attend to, but (Y/n) is sure to keep you company.” Ed let out his excuse like a child that just wanted to go play.

“Are you sure I can’t help, Ed?” Oswald questioned.

“Nope, just personal business.” Ed explained. “I’ll be back later. You two get acquainted.”

Ed scurried away like a mouse before anything else could be said. Oswald starred in the direction he had gone for a few seconds before he gestured for you to sit. You did so.

“So, how do you know Ed?” The crime lord asked.

“We’ve been friends for years, don’t really remember how we met.” You gave him a small smile. “When he started this whole Riddler thing I wanted to help, so here I am.”

The conversation went on like that for a while. The two of you talking about Ed. But, after a while you started talking about each other. The more you talked to Oswald the more you liked him. He was quite cute and well spoken. You couldn’t help but to get lost in his face as he spoke. He seemed to have forgotten about the little book he was writing in.

“Would you like to move this conversation to my office, (Y/n)?”

Your heart stopped momentarily at the question.

“Sure.” Was all you could force out of your shocked face.

Oswald gathered his things and began to lead you into the back part of the club. You took note of the famous limp that carried his nickname on. Oswald opened the door and shut it behind you. You took your time to peer around the office. It was a modest size for being in the back of a club. You met Oswald by his desk as he sat his things down.

“Did Ed say why he brought you here tonight?” Oswald asked.

“He said that we’d hit it off, that’s all.”

“Forgive me,” Oswald laughed off the odd question. “It’s just in a business like this one has to watch their back.”

“It’s alright, Oswald.”

The man looked over to you with a gleam in his eye that you’d seen when he first saw Ed earlier that night.

“I have an odd request, (Y/n)” Oswald said with certainty.

“A request?” You questioned as Oswald fidgeted where he stood.

“Could you tell me the truth?”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“If I were to kiss you, would you regret it.” Oswald’s way of questioning was odd.

“No.” You answered plainly.

Oswald’s face had grown gradually redder all night but was now the color of a cherry. You took a step closer to him and his eyes met yours.

“May I?” He asked timidly.

You gave him a quick nod. Oswald didn’t waste any time. One hand cupped your cheek while the other went around your waist. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, one he must have been waiting for all night. You fell into place and enjoyed the moment. Oswald was passionate in his action and refused to loosen his hold on you at all.

Your hand went up to his hair. You had been dying to touch it all night. The way it perfectly fell into place made you want to mess it up. Now as your hands went through it you could fell those butterflies in your stomach going crazy. You pulled at his hair lightly and Oswald let out a moan. He pushed you up against his desk and broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Is this what Ed meant by hitting it off?” He asked between breaths.

“Probably.”

“Good.”

Oswald kissed you again. His hands at your waistband now settling a knee between your legs. You pushed yourself up onto his desk and he moved to stand between your thighs. You could feel his hardness against your own as he started to unfasten your pants.

The door creaked open and caught your attention right away. Oswald was about to yell, but calmed himself when he saw it was Ed. You sighed at the sight of your friend, thankfully you were both still fully clothed.

“Well, it seems like you hit it off after all.” Ed smiled to himself. “I’ll, just, uh…” Ed began to close the door.

“Ed!” Oswald called out.

Ed stopped in his tracks. Oswald cleared his throat and turned to you.

“Perhaps it’s best if we stop and get to know one another first.”

“Sure.” You smile at the thoughtfulness. Oswald didn’t want some one night stand, he wanted a relationship.

“I’ll see you both soon.” Oswald announced as he backed away and allowed you to stand.

You gave him a goodbye kiss then made your way to where Ed was waiting.

“See you soon, Oswald.”

#gotham #gotham x reader #Oswald Cobblepot #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x male reader #x male reader #gotham x male reader #lime #ed nygma #the penguin #penguin #penguin x reader #penguin x male reader

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universalistotalis · 3 years

Text

Chance

Hinata Shoyo (Timeskip!) x Female Reader

Masterlist!

You might as well just shit in your pants.

Of all the times that the gods decided to play with your life, why did it have to be now? WHY THE FUCK?!

This day was supposed to be a lazy day since it’s a rare break from work. It was supposed to be a relaxed grocery shopping and a relaxed trip back home with the face masks and candles and snacks that you bought. But NO! The universe had other plans!

You closed your eyes and looked up as your fingers grabbed the door handle leading to the passenger seat of his car. You sighed for the nth time since meeting with those striking eyes that you’ve missed so much and after a couple of seconds, you decided to open the car and let yourself in.

What's the worst that could happen right?!

The interior of the car was sleek and the welcoming scent was of fresh pine with a hint of him. You ignored the erratic beating of your heart as you reached for the seatbelt to secure yourself in.

“All set, y/n?” Hinata asked and the engine roared to life.

“Yep.” You smiled and nodded, just looking straight ahead.

“Lead the way, alright?” He said with a gentle voice and you both zoom to the highway.

“Y/n… Can I talk to you for a moment?” You were faced with a blushing Hinata Shoyo, fresh from the win of another game. Maybe it was the adrenaline that still pumped in his veins or maybe it was the certainty of his feelings for you after so many years of admiration. But one thing was for sure…

He knew he had to tell you.

“Sure, Shoyo!” You said cheerfully, pride radiating from your figure as the volleyball team that you’ve been an assistant of, won the match of the season! That’ll secure them a spot in the olympics! Yes, being the volleyball assistant of the National Team was a job that you never thought you’d be in but then you enjoyed the duties, the thrill, the environment… mostly everything about it.

His strong hands wrapped around your wrist and led you to the locker room where there were no eyes scorching your every move. Hinata wanted to have the privacy that you both needed for his confession.

You were beginning to worry about his lack of cheerful outbursts after the win. Usually, he’d be jumping with his team mates and screaming at the top of his lungs but now… he was quiet as the wind. You have come to know all his moves too well over years of friendship. Actually, you consider him as one of your best friends since he often is the first person that you think of sharing your stories to. (Okay, fine a little bit more than a friend but he didn't need to know.)

“H-hey, Shoyo. Are you alright?” You asked, your steps faltering on the hallway near the locker room. “Is there something wrong? You’re not like your usual self.”

He turned around to face you slowly. His usual straightened back was slightly hunching and his other hand grabbed his nape for scratching. And you knew in that moment, that he was nervous. But for what?

You saw his adam’s apple bob up and down his throat before your eyes landed on his. A breath hitches and before you know it, he was centimeters away from your face.

Surely it’s a dream right? The guy that you’ve been crushing on, ever since the day that you laid your eyes on him, was merely staring at your lips and tightening his grip on your wrists.

“Shoyo…” You whispered, still in a daze of the situation.

His damned eyes looked up to yours and it filled with the warmth that you were so used to seeing. It was the same pair of eyes that silently comforted you when your day had been exhaustingly slow. It was the same ones that silently pushed you to move forward when you felt the world was against you. It was him beside you, all those excruciating but unforgettable years.

His laugh sliced through the silence and the tension between the both of you and he caught your cheeks in his hands. Your own laughter bubbled in your chest as his was contagious.

“I have no idea if what I’m doing is right but I need you to know…” He took a deep breath, reddening at his words. “I like you, y/n. I really really really REALLY like you.”

“You can stop here.” You whispered at the quiet humming of the radio. “I’ll just take a bus from here.”

“I can take you to where you live, no problem.” He whispered back.

It was mostly 20? 30? You don’t know how many minutes you were in his car but you knew you had to get out.

“Hinata…”

“You used to call me Shoyo.” He deadpanned, purposely going faster when he passed the bus stop you were referring to. “You used to tell me everything. You used to be my best friend. And you said you liked me back…”

You looked away at his face that was glazed and clearly stuck in the past as you were.

“So why’d you leave?” You didn’t mistake the pain in his voice because as you looked back on his side profile, he had a look of genuine agony.

You were shocked at his revelation. He was Hinata Shoyo. The worldwide volleyball sensation who everybody loved and idolized. The man haunting you everywhere because of countless billboards and posters. You didn’t dare believe that he would be caught up with someone like you.

Your eyes just stared at his figure at the driver’s seat. Thoughts flooding your mind of the things to say yet still say nothing.

You wanted to tell him that YES, you were still hopelessly in love with him. And that YES, you tried to date other guys but they weren’t as genuine and passionate as he was. And that YES, you regretted leaving without any trace, without any goodbyes. He was one of the most important persons in your life and you made it look like he was trash, disposed like he was nothing.

But then you also wanted to tell him that you’re scared of a relationship. You’re scared to not be enough for him. You're scared when you heard people talk when you held hands in public. You’re scared of being left alone. And so you decided it was better to be alone.

“There, just by the flowerbed.” You pointed stiffly as he maneuvered his automobile to the front of your house.

He helped you get your groceries from his trunk like the real gentleman that he is but the silence was definitely deafening both your ears.

But Shoyo knew better than to push you for answers. He was the only one stuck on the maybe’s of the two of you. Perhaps, it was just pure luck that he found you in that grocery store. Perhaps, the universe was playing a prank on him to stab the knife a little deeper.

“Thanks for the ride.” He heard your sweet voice and replied with a smile that would hopefully look happy to you. He was nowhere near happy now, just full- on frustrated with himself, with the world, with the—

“Shoyo.” You called.

His entire body froze at the way you said his name.

“I have no idea if what I’m doing is right but I need you to know…” His head snapped so fast at your words… the very same ones he said when he confessed. “I like you Shoyo. I still do.”

Tears were brimming your eyes now. “I let fear control me and blind me. I chickened out when I heard comments about us. I was so scared that I wouldn’t be enough for you. I was so scared that you’ll eventually leave. So scared of how much I loved you that it would break me to lose you. You’re the best-est friend I could ever ask for and I’m so sorry if I ran away like that.”

“HOLD ON.” He held his hand in air. “You said LOVED. Y-you love me?”

A surprised giggle left your mouth. Of all the things you said!

“I do.” You nodded, still amused by his child- like reaction. “I do, Shoyo. I understand if you don’t feel the same way and if you want this to be the last time we see each other but… if you would give me another chance… I won’t let that fear lead the way and I promise to love you with my whole heart.”

With your statement, he closed the distance between the two of you and caged your head in a kiss. He wanted to cry at the contact because he just missed you so much!

"You don't have to be scared of anything or anyone, alright? I'll protect you from now on."

Hinata Shoyo made so many rash and bad decisions. But he also made good ones. And the best one he did, was to give you your chance that day. Now, he knows what true love really is like.

I keep making them longer than intended! Hahaha anw, have you been tuning in to the olympics lately? I'm cheering hard for the Japan Volleyball Team and I hope to god they win!

Reblogs are appreciateeeed! <3

#haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu reader insert #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo oneshot #hinata headcanons #hinata x you #hinata x reader #haikyuu shoyo #shoyo hinata #shoyo hinata x reader #hinata shoyo #hq hinata #fluff fluff fluff

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

#miss fortune #sarah fortune #miss fortune x oc #miss fortune x reader #sentinels of light spoilers #league of legends #fanfiction #creative writing #riven

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maybege · 2 years

Note

I read through the fake dating prompts and I just– boba fett and 35?? like boba fett as the rough and tough action star who got into a fight to defend one of his assistants from an asshole director, and now he’s been shunned by the director’s director friends, so who better to help him get back into the industry’s good graces than reader, the sweet, girl-next door typecasted actress he met (and drunkenly made out with one time) at a Hollywood party two years ago? surely that’ll go smoothly!

and then I thought: wait, INVERT IT! like maybe the reader has been in the spotlight since she was on a famous family sitcom as a child, and after a particularly intrusive encounter with the paparazzi she gets labeled a spoiled diva, so she asks a friend of a friend to help her figure out a way to help her repair her image. enter boba fett, distinguished action star, renowned activist and philanthropist, and the guy who played her character’s boyfriend on the sitcom that launched her career. yep, that’s going to go well.

either way, 35 and boba fett is just a really good combo in my opinion. - 💜

Oh I love this idea so much! I read it last night just before I fell asleep and I absolutely agree that this option just screams Boba! So imagine you’re a childhood tv star that has been haunted by the media for ages. Everything you do gets twisted and while there are rumors of several addiction problems, the real comes when you’re in a court case against your ex who tries to sell nudes you sent him during your relationship. But as the media is wont to do, they blame you for everything (think headlines like “Now she’s taking him to court - the rose wars go into a second round” and “Why can’t she let him be? TV Star keeps loving ex partner in gruel court fight”). So when your agent suggests that a relationship with a “respectable” person of the public eye might turn the jury and the media coverage in your favour, you’re reluctant but you also don’t have any better ideas. And who better to help your reputation than the national treasure and popular movie star Boba Fett? Boba is reluctant but he knows you from a small previous project (the only flop he ever starred in) and he’s not one to turn away someone in need so before you know it, both of your agents plant seeds in the rumor mill.

Think having staged make out sessions with him on the beach, being kissed absolutely breathless by him and feeling so dizzy and warm and desired. His warm hands on your body, his rumbling voice asking you if that’s okay and you can just nod, wanting to kiss him again and again. How his lips tug up in a little smile and he kisses you again, murmuring how everyone will see how pretty you look when the snapshots are all over the social media. Think being invited to a huge award show as his plus one and you’re super nervous because it’s the first serious event you’ve been invited to for years and how kind and proud he is, how he makes sure you’re having a good time and are being respected by everyone m. Think having to share a hotel room and confessing to him how the papparzi never left you alone, how you feel so lonely even if you’re never alone because camera lenses wait for you everywhere. Think of him snapping at some paparazzi when they get too close and won’t leave you alone, how he throw his arm around you and leads you away to the safety of his car. 🥺😭

send me a number and a character and let’s yearn and hc together

#may answers #💜 anon #boba fett x reader

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ukiyoexo · 4 years

Text

HAUNT ME, BABY! — PJS

PAIRINGS — nct, park jisung x reader

GENRES — ghost!jisung, quarantine!au, humour, lots of fluff (+grumpy!cute!jisung), angst (?)

SYNOPSIS — when you see a ghost, you’re supposed to be scared right? yeah, that’s what jisung thought too until he met you.

a night spent in boredom leads you to lighting random candles and attempting to summon a ghost. you never expected it to work — or for the spirit to be so cute.

WARNINGS — ghost summoning, mentions of blood, swearing, pricking your skin for blood, mentions of how jisung died, unedited

WORD COUNT — 5.2k+

TAG LIST — @uwu-yifan @peachjaem00 @heartyyjeno @guccichan

NOTE — i basically took the bloody mary ritual and made some shit up so enjoy :) this is also the fluffiest of all the fics from deviltales so yeah... this is also shorter than i intended but oh well.

DEVILTALES — MASTERLIST

quarantining alone had its perks. like being able to eat whatever you liked whenever, and never having to actually get dressed. as well as the fact that you could spend the day doing what you pleased, without anyone getting in your way.

and maybe that’s why you were going through with the slightly crazy and slightly stupid idea you had come up with whilst spending your fourth hour scrolling on tiktok. there was no one here to stop you from summoning a ghost and you wouldn’t be getting in anyone’s way. plus, you couldn’t help but think it would be nice to have someone other than your cat to talk to — even if that someone was some demon that probably wanted to possess your body.

“red and white candles, check. mirror, yep.” you mumble off the checklist to summon your very own supernatural being. your finger scrolling over the wiki how page on your phone screen one last time before powering it off and chucking it onto your bed.

next stop was the bathroom connected to your bedroom, where you had already lit the two candles, placing them at either corner of the sink. you had already turned off the lights and plugged the sink like instructed, all you had to do now was repeat the chant and prick your finger.

you clear your throat, debating what you would do if your attempts actually worked but deciding to instead remain unbothered. “yolo i guess.” you mutter, only to laugh at yourself when you wonder how many people’s last words were that.

you repeat the chant confidently, despite the fact that it was some random latin that you didn’t understand and most definitely mispronounced. after rerunning it through your head to make sure you had it, you pick up the pin you had placed next to the sink. the cool metal almost numbs the feeling of it piercing your index finger, yet still not enough to completely distract from the unpleasant pinch. a steady drip begins even before you remove the needle, landing against the white ceramic sink bowl and trailing it way down to the plug. one drop, two drops, three drops, you keep count until you hit 16 and a small pool of the metallic liquid has formed at the drain.

nothing happens for a while, and you wonder if it really was just make belief. and then when the red candle blows out, you try to convince yourself that it’s just a draft. you know, because a draft in a closed room with no open windows is so common.

you’re not scared per se, but the feeling of someone’s hot breath against the neck is slightly unsettling, the hairs on your back standing up just that bit straighter with every exhale. you know the next step is to look up and face the mirror, but a part wants to just turn on the lights and pretend nothing ever happened.

then again, you were never one to back down from something once you had begun it.

“fuck it.” you take a deep inhale, holding your breath as you direct your eyes from the bloodied sink towards the mirror.

there it is. the dark outline of a body— a person, you can’t see it’s face at first and wonder if it’s just your shadow. but then the features slowly become more clear, a wicked smile, one white eye, there’s blood dripping from the crown of his head, trailing down to his other, reddened eye, where a thick cut is sliced through. “boo.”

“jesus fucking christ.” you’re pretty sure your soul leaves your body at that very moment. definitely a ghost- definitely a ghost- definitely a ghost. but what fucking ghost says boo?

one hand is clutched to your chest, heart hammering against your ribcage, the other fumbling for the light switch. your widened eyes still trained on the mirror.

“you— you’re like actually a ghost?” you question, the light switch seemingly impossible to find despite your frantic attempts. the boy behind you seems caught off guard by the enquiry. “i mean—” he begins in the most unghostlike manner “yeah, i guess. i prefer haunted spirit of the underworld though.”

you finally hit the switch and the boy comes into full view, your body turning so you can get a better look at him. he’s— he’s surprisingly unthreatening.

sure, he has copious amounts of blood dripping from his being, and yeah, he looks like he could possess you with the snap of his fingers. but, he also has the roundest rosy cheeks, and the most adorably button nose. plus, he talks like most of your friends do — not the spooky victorian vibe you were picturing. “huh.” you lean back against the sink basin, arms folded across your chest, eyes narrowed. “hmph, you’re kind of cute.”

the ‘haunted spirit of the underworld’ looks a mixture of offended and confused at your statement, eyebrows furrowing with a exaggerated pout on his lips. “what?” he mirrors the action of your arms, “you’re not supposed to find me cute— you’re not supposed to.” he stomps his foot and you can’t help but lose it, giggling erupting from your chest.

“not my fault, dude.” you inform him casually once you’ve caught back your breath. sliding past him to get to the bathroom door and promptly opening it. he follows as you enter your bedroom, standing above you with the same expression as before as he watches you slump onto your bed.

“but no one ever finds me cute.” he just looks more confused now. “guess im the exception,” you shrug, “i mean how many people have summoned you anyways?”

“a lot, ok? and that’s not the point. you’re killing the atmosphere by being so chilled out and i’m not here for it.” the boy continues but you’re more focused on examining him. under the thick red liquid is a dishevelled, ink black mop of hair, a slightly tattered black shirt that is loose fitting to his figure and then a pair of ripped black jeans, although you can’t tell whether the rips are intentional or a result of his untimely death. “hello? are you even listening to me.” your eyes flick back up to his face, “yeah, yeah i’m listening— something about atmosphere or some shit.”

he lets out a huff and indicates for you to shuffle over, moving to sit on your bed, “whoa, pause, that blood won’t get on my sheets right? i just washed them.” he pauses in his tracks, looking at the white linen and then back at you. “i’m a ghost.” he states obviously. “good point.”

silence seems to settle in the room once he gets himself comfortable, his eyes examine your room whilst your eyes examine him. the pout on his face had vanished, only to be replaced by this almost saddened look. for some reason, you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault.

“you can try again.” you mutter awkwardly, offering up the best comforting smile you could. “try what?” “you can try scaring me again. we’ll go back to the bathroom, i’ll turn off the lights and you can jump out again.” his head tilts as you explain your suggestion and you swear you can see the apples of his cheeks redden just slightly. “i— i mean it won’t work will it? you already know i’m here.” he reasons back.

“ah, my dearest haunted spirits of the underworld, you clearly haven’t witnessed my superior acting skills before, lemme show you how to be scared.” you stand up confidently, sliding backwards to the bathroom, wiggling your eyebrows as you do so.

he once again follows, watching inquisitively as you relight the candles and turn off the lights, closing the bathroom door behind you, once you’re both fully in. “now, do your thing.” you offer him a quick smile and he nods hesitantly, settling himself in the darkest corner of the bathroom where you can’t even see him. “haunt me, baby!”

as you let out your last, more joking, words, the red candle is blown out once again, the white candle merely flickering and provided little to no light. your breath catches in your throat and any humour you have left to offer seems to dissipate out of your body.

there’s a tapping against the tiles to your right. then a scraping behind you. you can hear an unintelligible whispering echo throughout the small space but can’t make out what’s being said.

a cold draft hits the back of your neck, following the shiver that runs done your spine and leaves goosebumps on your arms.

your eyes are locked on the mirror in front of you. you don’t even have to act scared, you just are. your heart pounding harder and quicker in your chest with each passing second, your breaths unsteady and shallow.

one tap on your shoulder, then two, then what feels like someone tugging on strands of your hair. your body tenses at the touch, limbs stiffening.

and then, in the glow of the weak candle light, a face appears, a familiar face but one that given the circumstances, looks all the more terrifying. your eyes widen just as before, your features hardened in the tense moment.

“boo.” he repeats the same ‘scary’ word as before but in a low whisper. you try your best to remain calm but it’s at that moment that you lose it, your eyes squeezing shit and your hands flying to hit the lights. “nope, nope, nope.” you repeat in a chant, jumping on the spot as if that would make things any better.

“what? was i good?” the ghost sounds surprised, chirpy, and it’s enough to convince you that you can look up again. “were you good?” you respond bewildered, staring at the boy, “you were to fucking, i hated that.” you inform him, pacing to wards your bed. he trails behind, cheering to himself proudly.

“promise to never scare me like that again?” you hold out your pinky once he’s sat back next to you.

he pauses slightly but then nods, extending his pinky as well, hooking it around yours. “promise.”

♡ ♡ ♡

“wait, you never told me your name? and how old are you?” you and ghost boy are lying on your bed, having established that he’ll be ‘haunting’ you until dawn, leaving you with six hours to kill.

“jisung, eighteen.” he hums back, “you?”

“i’m y/n and the same age.” you roll onto your stomach and closer to jisung, giving him a wide, cheesy grin. his eyes narrow, as if to say what are you doing, but then widen when he feels your arm shove him off the bed. of course, it doesn’t work because he’s a ghost and can hover, but you still receive the same amount of entertainment.

“why can i touch you?” you continue your questioning after jisung settles on the chair next to your desk, “and why can you sit on things?”

he huffs out a breath but doesn’t really seemed bothered by the pestering, in fact he rather enjoys having someone to talk to. “you can touch me because you summoned me, and i can sit on things because i control what i go in and out of.” he explains as simply as possible, holding his hand out against your desk. “look, like this.” he rests his hand ontop of the surface as if it’s nothing. then he lifts it back up and lowers it again, however this time, it goes straight through the wood. “whoa.” you gasp, genuinely impressed. “cool, right—”

“can you go through me?” you burst brightly, and jisung looks mildly concerned. “i mean— i’ve never tried but—” “try it on me! try it on me! try it on me, please!” you extend the last your vowels desperately, grasping your hands hands together in a begging motion.

jisung rolls his eyes but agrees nonetheless, rising from seat and walking towards you with his hand extended. “ok, hold out your hand.” he instructs and you comply eagerly. your hand pointed outwards with your fingers spread slightly.

jisung rests his palm against yours, his skin is cold but soft. but then the feeling seems to vanish, and you watch wild eyed as jisung closes his fist, inside your hand. “what does it feel like?” he asks.

“like nothing.” you tilt your head, it wasn’t as exciting as you thought it’d be.

jisung then pulls out of your hand again, places his palm back against yours and threading his fingers with yours, materialising his flesh again. “aw, you’re holding my hand.” you tease sweetly, “cute.”

jisung scoffs, quickly pulling away at the mention of that horrid c-word.

“anyways then, what do you want to do?” you flop back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. jisung lifts off the ground, hovering above you and looking down to make eye contact. “what do you mean?”

“well, is there anything you didn’t get to do whilst you were alive that you wish you could? are there things you want to experience again?”

jisung smiles, it’s a sweet question. bittersweet though.

he had never really thought about the things he had missed out on, and he’d tried his hardest to not think about the things he actually missed. but something about you asking it, so innocently, so pure hearted and warm, makes him smile. makes him less sad about his untimely death.

“i don’t know.” the ghost drops beside you, fiddling with his fingers. “well let’s make a list then.” you match his smile and jisung swears this is the most he’s felt since becoming a ghost.

♡ ♡ ♡

half an hour passes before you finally have a list you can actually accomplish within the confines of your apartment.

first on the list is learning how to skateboard, your board that had been propped up in the corner of your room since the start of quarantine coming in extremely useful. “ok, put one foot on the deck,” you instruct calmly, hands already being grasped by jisung’s. the icy feeling if then still something you couldn’t entirely get over. “then the other.” he does as he’s told. stepping on carefully but surprisingly soon, he was a ghost though — nothing to lose.

it goes pretty smoothly, your body guiding his around the hard wood floor of your bedroom. there’s a few wobbles but nothing too severe. “fun?” you grin and he nods eagerly back, it was almost like having a puppy.

“now you try on your own.”

he stops smiling at that.

“but what if i fall off?”

“you’re a ghost.”

“oh yeah.”

jisung adjusts the board so that it’s facing down the longest stretch. he confidently settles himself on the deck. with one, slightly too strong of a push, he’s off across your room. he picks up speed quickly as he goes and it’s only near the end of his path when he realised that he’s fucked up.

whilst he jumps off, the board keeps flying, only stopping when it hits the wall — or rather goes through it.

you both stand, frozen in you positions, staring at where your plaster wall had been broken through. “you just put a hole in my wall.”

“that, i did.”

“ok enough skateboarding for you.”

you move on swiftly after that, finding out that jisung can still eat and deciding to order a selection of his favourite dishes: sushi, pizza and even pork belly.

whilst you wait for food, you decide to move onto the next on the list: alcohol.

“so you’re telling me you never drank alcohol, like any at all, before you dies?” jisung nods to your astounded question. “seriously?” you scoff, genuinely shocked. “the most i’ve had is a sip of mum’s wine and it was nasty so i just steered clear of alcohol as a whole.” he informs you and you’re pretty sure your jaw is touching the ground. “what about drinking games?” he shakes his head again. “that’s wild dude.” it seems like the only motion jisung can do is moving his head as nods awkwardly for what feels like the hundredth time.

you don’t pay much mind as you head to your kitchen, choosing a selection of alcohols and mixers and several glasses before making your way back to the bedroom with full arms.

you settle yourself on the floor of your room, pouring out the various liquids into different glasses. “you don’t have to drink if you don’t want, you know that right?” you asks, swirling a glass of lemonade and lemon vodka in your, wanting to make sure that you weren’t forcing the ghost boy to do something he didn’t want to. “yeah, i know, but i do want to.” “ok, good.”you grin, hoding out the glass in your hand towards him.

he winces at just the smell which makes you giggle, the way his nose srunches being incredibly cute. he takes swig anyways however. its a quick one but you can tell by the range of emotions that spread across the boys face that he definitely got a taste. “good?” “i guess.” he twists his lips and you laugh even more.

“up next is gin.” you inform him, swirling another glass of alcohol and this time tonic.

you hand him the glass and he readily takes it, offering you a concerned look after taking his routine sniff as if to say ‘you really drink this?’. you smile encouragingly, despite thinking the drink you had just handed him was the worst of the lot.

unfortunately for jisung, he takes you expression as a form of reassurance that the gin will be better than the last and takes a more confident sip than the prior drink. however, just as quickly as he’s sipping it, he’s spitting it back into the glass, this disgusted look on his face as he tries to hold back a gag. you let out a boisterous belly laugh at his reaction, much to jisung’s distaste.

“you like that?” he questions between gulps of water, watching you intently. his eyebrows arching wildly when you respond with a “rarely.”

“so, wanna taste the next one?” you grin again, but jisung as trusting as before. “not really.” he pouts but you circle the drink around his face and he can’t really say no, he had never really had any self restraint anyways. “fuck it.” he hums before downing the mix of malibu and coke, a pleased look flashing across his face. “you like?” you nudge him into a response, “i do.” he smiles back, surprisingly happy.

you appreciate his good taste in alcoholic drinks but decide to do only one more round before wrapping the session up.

the last differs from the rest. the fact that it was dairy based and thicker eing the most obvious differences, as well as the fact that you put no mixer with it. “what’s this?” he holds the brown liquid up to the light as if that would help him decifer what he was about to sip on. “chocolate baileys.” you smile at him fondly, and he tilts his head at you. “don’t worry, you’ll love it.” you offer him some more genuine reassurance this time and his nods timidly, “bottoms up.” he raise his glass to his lips, taking a small swig. “wow.” he has another taste. “good?” “really good.”

food arrives shortly after and you waste no time stuffing yourself with the selection of delicious foods, making that jisung has plenty and enjoys the meal to its full.

♡ ♡ ♡

next on the agenda was catching up with all the music jisung had missed. and god, there was plenty.

you created a playlist of your favourites, a collection of ones he may know, and other new ones, setting it to full volume on your speaker — your neighbours could deal with the noise for a while.

when you begin to twirl around the room, busting out your favourite moves, jisung doesn’t seem too fond of joining in. unfortunately, no one told him how hard it would be to say no to you. the way you grip his hands and spin him on the spot with encouraging cheers make him laugh too much for him to then say no.

“there you go!” you grin ecstatically, watching jisung throw out some peculier but workable dance moves. your questionable singing matched with his much better singing when a song he knew came on.

your dance party goes on for what feels like half an hour but is really half an hour at most.

you spend half the time belly laughing while battling it out on who could dance better and although jisung won, it’s one of the best half an hours of your life. it almost makes you sad that, despite your exhaustion, you can’t continue with the dance party for longer.

you cross it off the list happily, looking for the next doable thing — watch avengers: endgame.

you were never much of an avengers fan but it turns out jisung was a huge one. and one thing he didn’t get to do before he passed was watch the last to the film, something he had been dying to do.

thankfully for him, you had already bought it after one extremely boring day in quarantine, figuring it would help you easily pass three hours of your time. only now, you were hating the length as it just meant less time to spend with jisung.

jisung actually having to agree to play truth or dare with you whilst watching otherwise you refused to turn it on.

it gets only fifteen minutes into the film and your prodding at the ghost’s arm. “psst,” you over exaggerate, “truth or dare?” you grin taking a scoop from the ice cream you had retrieved earlier.

jisung flickers his gaze between the screen and your pleading, hating how cute he finds you. “dare.” he whispers back.

if he hadn’t been so focused on the film, jisung would have seen the almost maniac like smile that spread across your lips. he then, would have been less shocked and disgusted when you dared him to drink a shot of soy sauce.

“you want me to do what?” the boy splutters, looking at you with mild concern. “what happens if i don’t?” one eyebrows quirks upwards. “then i choose a different date, as well as a truth.”

the manic smile returns.

“ok, fine.” you’re almost more shocked that he agrees to the questionable, sodium packed drink. “really?” you gasp. “yep, really.” he only confirms back.

you return to the bedroom a couple moments later with a glass bottle of dark brown liquid in one hand and a pair of shot glasses in the other. “you doing it with me?” jisung wonders once he sees the two small vessels, normally for alcohol.

“might as well.” you nod, questioning your own sanity as soon as you agree, “you only live once right?”

the joke is probably inappropriate given the circumstances, yet jisung chuckles nonetheless.

the humour dies down shortly after when the sodium liquid meets your tongue. your attempt short lived as you wait a whole five seconds to spit the shot back out. grabbing one of the glassses of water you had prepared and swirling it around your mouth.

jisung seems to struggle less than you, the alcohol most likely acting as a good warm up to him. however, you can tell by the expression his face twists into that he still definitely doesn’t enjoy it.

you fire more dares back and fourth after that, resulting in you snacking on a whole lemon and jisung ending up in an outfit of your choice — turns out ghosts can change clothes. and it continues until jisung finally chooses truth.

“so,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “well,” you continue to stall, twiddling with your thumbs. you open your mouth to speak again but jisung cuts you off, “you can ask me anything, like anything at all.” jisung nudges you encouragingly.

you sigh, looking at him with a pout, “ok then,” you don’t sound very enthusiastic but it’s more that you just feel bad, you couldn’t imagine that many people would enjoy reliving their last moments — assuming that’s what he was referencing, “my truth for you mr jisung is, how did you die?”

a silence settles between you and you’re too scared to even look up from where you were playing with the hem of your shirt.

“i— why would you ask me that?”

his words cut through the tension sharply. his tone serious.

“i— you- but you just said—” you’re beginning to panic, wondering if you had just hallucinated th last five minutes, but for all you knew, you could’ve been hallucinating all of this experience. “i’m sorry—”

“i’m fucking with you y/n, it’s fine, i was surprised you didn’t ask me earlier in fact.” jisung is evilly giggling just a bit too much for your liking, enough for you to attempt to wack his stomach. of course that fails though as he lets your arm just fly straight through him. “i hate you.”

“you don’t really,” he teases, reaching over to squish your cheeks as you glare at him. “it wasn’t interesting anyways, i was just hit by a car, boring really.”

“was it on purpose?” you pull the ice cream spoon between your lips.

“huh,” he takes another scoop himself, “i never thought about that.”

“well, did it hurt?”

“kind of,” he hums, looking like he’s genuinely trying to remember, “this bit hurt.” he motions towards his eye and for a second you almost forgot having a thick red gash across your eye wasn’t normal.

“hmph,” you lean towards him inspecting the cut, “that’s wild.”

“well, how do you wanna die?”

the way jisung asks so genuinely has a bubble of giggles brewing in your stomach, but you expression hardens when you realise he’s being serious. “i don’t know, i’ve never thought about it before. i die when i die, you know? i can’t stop it, so i might as well just enjoy what i have now and accept whatever death comes to me in the future, momento mori or some shit.”

you answer nonchalantly and jisung’s surprised by how calm you are about death.

he remembers the first time he experienced death. his grandpa passed away when he was eight and although he didn’t fully understand the concept of dying, he understood enough to be sad. and when his grandma passed away at ten, he was finally able to grasp the concept of it.

if he was being honest, death terrified him.

it was uncertain. and jisung didn’t like uncertainty. the unknown darkness that was death scared him and he even at eighteen, he hadn’t fully accepted it.

but hey, he was a ghost now, not much he could do to change his death anymore.

♡ ♡ ♡

the film ends sooner than you had expected and there’s not long left before jisung will leave. it’s weird, you didn’t think you could get so attached to someone so quickly, but then you summoned jisung and you both just clicked.

you had both decided that for the last moments you’d sit out on the balcony of your apartment, let jisung jisung feel the warmth of the sun as it filtered through the clouds.

“i think you’re my favourite ghost.”

“you’ve met other ghosts?” jisung quirks up his eyebrows, tilting his head towards you.

“nope, but i imagine you’re the best.” you continue confidently, watching as pastel blues and pinks fade into the sky.

he smiles at that.

he thinks you’re the best human he’s ever met, too.

you attempt to pass you the time by talking about life before death and your life after he goes but all conversation simmers down into a silence. it’s not uncomfortable, more just this solemn quiet. jisung didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t really have a choice — being a ghost really sucked sometimes, that was for sure.

“you know, there’s something else i kinda want to do before i go.” jisung hums, drawing your attention to his face. “what?” you question innocently which in itself makes the ghost smile.

“well,” he begins, suddenly nervous and blushing under your gaze, “when i was alive,” you nod, encouraging him to continue, “i never got to have a proper first kiss.” he quietens at the end slightly but what he’s saying is still clear as day.

“oh.”

you watch him shift in his seat, waving his hand in and out of the arm rest anxiously. “mr haunted spirit of the underworld, are you asking if you can kiss me?” you can’t help but tease the red cheeked boy, swirling your finger on your lap.

“i mean— you don’t—”

“i’d love for you to, jisung.”

your grin is suddenly matched on the boy’s face, a genuine smile that makes your heart pump even faster and this bittersweet feeling to settle in your stomach.

you stand up from your seat and he does the same, intertwining his fingers with yours and shuffling closer towards you. his gaze lingers on your lips for a moment before shifting towards your eyes. the way your irises glow in the morning sunlight something he wishes he could witness everyday. the way your cheek feels against the delicate touch of his fingertips, something he wishes he could experience everyday. “thank you.”

“for what?”

“for making me feel alive for the first time in all my eighteen years, dead and alive.” he confesses barely above a whisper, your hand shifting to cup the back of his neck.

he tilts forward, resting his forehead against yours, letting out a soft breath before closing gap completely.

his lips are plush, a soft velvet against yours. this heavenly feeling that makes you wonder whether he’s more of an angel than a ghost. the feeling has jolts of electricity sparking through every nerve of your body and you wonder if he feels it too. you do your best to savour each second of the kiss, letting yourself indulge in the moment.

hoping to imprint it in your memory for ever.

when you pull back, you’re met with nothing but the rays of sun indicating that dawn had come and jisung had gone.

you’re not sure what comes over you but there’s a gentle trickle of tears that escape your eyes. you were happy to have gotten to know him while you could, but it hurt knowing that you couldn’t do more.

you settle back in your chair after the realisation comes to you, dwelling over the questions you didn’t ask him. the most important being whether he’ll ever be able to come back.

you hoped he would.

and if not, you found comfort at least in knowing that he had still left his mark. from the hole now in your wall to the many memories you had to look back on.

even though you had never been one to believe in soulmates, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if that’s what you and jisung were. even if you roamed in different worlds, you couldn’t help but think you were made for each other. only hoping that in your next life you would finally get to be together.

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nikki-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

At the Edge of the Woods (Werewolf!Steve x Reader)

Summary: When you move into a cottage on the edge of the forest, you’re ready to start a new life in a new, quiet town. But when you attract the attention of Steve Rogers, a man who everyone in town seems to dislike and fear, your world is turned upside down after he decides that you belong to him.

Pairing: Werewolf/Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Read part two here!

A/N: Hey, guys! So a couple warnings about this one: it contains stalking, a/b/o dynamics, non-con, dub-con, breeding kink, and a whole lotta sin. Also, this is my first time writing anything with alpha/omega stuff in it, so be kind! And let me know if you liked it or if there’s anything I need to work on when writing about this sorta thing. Thank you so much, and enjoy!

It was love at first sight. From the moment you laid eyes on the cottage, you knew it would become your home. The thing was tiny, barely any bigger than a shack, and it was a good fifteen minutes’ drive from the nearest sign of civilization. But you didn’t care; you were enamored with the thick layer of ivy that had overtaken the western wall of the structure, and there were huge bushes of honeysuckle growing along the edge of the forest just a few feet from the backdoor.

And when your real estate agent told you the price of the property, the deal was immediately sealed.

“You’re kidding,” you’d deadpanned. “That’s all?”

“Yep,” she’d grinned, clutching her binder of properties tight against her chest. “Quite the bargain, huh?”

“I mean… Yeah,” you’d laughed. “It must be too good to be true. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, structurally,” she began, “The plumbing is on the older side of things, but it passed inspection. Same goes for the heating and air conditioning. There’s been a bit of a rodent problem in the past, but the appraiser said that a few mouse traps should do the trick to take care of that.”

Her smile had fallen at that point, though, and she shifted on her feet as she considered her next words.

“What is it?” you’d prompted.

“Well… The thing is,” she said sheepishly, “The locals have this superstition about the woods in this area. People say that they’re, uh…haunted.”

“…Haunted?”

You were barely able to contain an amused grin from overtaking your face, and with a shrug you turned back toward the kitchen, admiring the view of the trees through the little window above the stove.

“I know, it’s pretty weird,” the agent chuckled. “But people around here really do believe it. Something about an urban legend. I will say, though, that coyotes and wolves are known to roam around at night, so that’s probably where the paranoia comes from. Just try not to go out after dark. And if you get any chickens or outdoor animals, I’d keep them inside a kennel.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I’m not exactly a farmer. I’m just looking for a place to settle down.

“And I think this cottage is the perfect spot.”

A month later, after the papers were signed and your possessions were moved in, you found yourself happier than you’d ever been in your new abode. You’d purchased house plants and artwork, designing the small space until it was exactly to your liking. You’d even decided to take up gardening, and your tiny back porch had become dotted with pots filled with flourishing herbs.

You fell into an easy routine. On Mondays, you would venture into town, picking up groceries from the local mart and picking up any other supplies you needed. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were dedicated to your work; you were the owner and manager of a blog that had become an overnight success several months ago, and so you spent those days curled up in the cottage, typing away at your laptop and creating content.

The only strange thing thus far had been the town residents’ reaction to you. Everyone was friendly, of course, and they’d made it clear that small town hospitality was a value the entire population seemed to share, but you weren’t oblivious to the way they side-eyed you. No one ever looked suspicious, per se, more like…expectant. Like they were waiting for you to say or do something, though you had no idea what it could be.

Earl, the bookstore owner, was by far one of the friendliest people you’d ever met, and after four weeks of the bizarre treatment, you finally asked him about it.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” he waved you off, sliding your new books into a paper bag. “It’s just that no one’s ever lasted long in that cottage o’ yours.”

“…Well, that’s a bit…unsettling. What happened to them?”

“Nothing,” he was quick to assure you. “Nothing bad happens to ‘em. It’s not like they’ve gotten hurt or anything. It’s just that, uh… Well. Strange things seem to happen in that part o’ the woods at night, and it’s scared the last couple o’ tenants off.”

“Huh… My real estate agent did mention something like that,” you admitted, starting to feel an irrational spark of apprehension. “What kind of things did they see?”

“Well… I don’t wanna scare you away,” he grumbled, scratching at his salt-and-pepper beard.

“I promise you won’t. I really like where I’m at right now. I’m just…curious, I guess.”

Earl seemed to consider it for a moment before giving in.

“Alright,” he sighed. “But for the record, I don’t believe any of the silly nonsense some folks ‘round here like to gossip about. This is a quiet town – a safe town. The only dangerous thing about this place is Mary Jo’s strawberry rhubarb pie down at the soda shop – I swear those things are the reason I got diabetes.”

You chuckled at Earl, and he gave you a warm smile before leaning towards you over the counter, propping himself up on his elbow.

“So, anyways, back to your house,” he started. “The last people there were this younger couple. They were nice kids – had just gotten hitched. But after a few weeks, they said they started noticin’ howls at night. Now, that’s normal for this area; we’ve got some wolves. But these howls were close, so loud that it woke em’ up most nights.

“Then, they started seeing people walking around the property around midnight. It coulda’ been that they were smokin’ some stuff they shouldn’a been smokin’, but they swore up and down that they saw naked men traipsin’ around. One time, there was one on their back porch, and the husband ran out to chase him off, but as quick as they saw him, he vanished.

“Again, I don’t know if I believe all of that junk,” Earl huffed. “But… the old lady who lived there before the couple said the same thing before she passed away, god rest her soul. And ol’ Lizzy didn’t lie about this sorta thing.”

You made a quiet hum of contemplation, nodding.

“Well,” you eventually spoke, “if I see any naked men hanging around, I have my handy dandy taser.”

A wide grin broke out over the older man’s face, and he reached over the counter to cuff your shoulder.

“Thata girl,” he chuckled. “I like it. And if you do see people hangin’ around on your property, give me a call, ok?” He fumbled around for a business card, eventually opening the cash register and pulling one out. “Call the bottom number if anyone gives you trouble, ok? I know I’m not the most intimidating guy around, but I keep a shotgun at the house just in case. And if the wolves become a problem, call the police. They’ll send some guys over from animal control to chase ‘em off.”

“Thanks, Earl,” you smiled, tucking the card into your wallet. “Oh, and before I forget, do you have any stationary? Letter writing paper, colored pens, that sort of thing?”

“I’m afraid we don’t. Oh, but Greg and Lou would probably have some. Try their art supply store; it’s right around the corner on the left side o’ the road.”

With that, you thanked Earl and walked out, clutching your paper bag of novels to your chest. You had to admit that the idea of wolves on your property was starting to scare you, but the thought of a naked guy just hanging out in the woods was enough to make you laugh to yourself. Even if it was true, you’d dealt with weirdos before. If that was the worst of your problems, then you’d be a happy camper.

You followed Earl’s instructions and immediately spotted a quaint store with a sign over the door reading “The Brushstroke”. Upon walking inside, you were greeted by the smell of paper and ink, and papier mache mobiles were hanging from the ceiling every few feet, dancing in the breeze that had flown in after you opened the door. Two men were standing behind the counter, sipping from steaming mugs of tea, and their heads popped up as you walked in.

“Hey, there!” one of them called, giving you a wave. “Welcome; come on in.”

“Hello,” you replied with a smile.

“We haven’t seen you around before,” the other man remarked, a kind smile on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new girl in town, would you?”

“Word spreads quickly, I guess.”

“It does when you live in a town like this,” he nodded. “I’m Lou, by the way. And this is my husband Greg.”

Greg nodded in greeting, and you gave them a wide smile.

“It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“Likewise, hon. Can we help you find anything?”

You told them what you were looking for, and they instructed you towards the back of the store, where you found a wall filled with rows of neat packets of paper right next to a cubby of pens of all types and colors. You took your time in making your selections, not even noticing the door of the shop opening and closing; it was only when you heard Greg and Lou’s quiet conversation come to an abrupt halt that you glanced around the corner to see what was going on.

Your eyes widened when you saw the man standing in front of the counter; he was tall, maybe a few inches over six foot, and built like a tank. A thick, well-groomed beard adorned his face, and his hair was on the longer side, curling just past his ears in thick, easy waves. Despite the chilly weather outside, he was only dressed in a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and you watched his biceps bulge under the fabric as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“…Steve,” Greg finally said. “Long time no see.”

The man – Steve, evidently – nodded his head as he approached the counter.

“Wh-what can we do for you?” Lou asked, seeming to shrink back as he walked towards them.

“I need a new sketchbook,” Steve mumbled, almost too quietly for you to hear. His voice was deep, resonating, and something about its gravelly edge made goosebumps rise up over your arms.

“You know where to find ‘em,” Greg stated after clearing his throat. “Just get whatever you need and go.”

It looked as if Steve was about to say something, but after a pause, he just nodded, ducking his head and turning directly towards you. You stiffened as he grew nearer, feeling an unexplainable urge to turn and run away from him, but then his eyes met yours, and you were frozen in place.

Blue irises stared directly into you, and you watched as surprise washed over his features. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in through his nose, and you swore that you saw his pupils dilate as he looked you up and down. When his gaze finally met yours again, and you stumbled back a step, stunned at the look on his face. It was as if he knew you.

But that couldn’t be; you’d never seen this man before. If you had, you definitely would’ve remembered him.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, but all of a sudden you were broken out of your strange stupor. Fixing your eyes firmly on the floor, you turned and blindly grabbed the first stack of papers that your extended hand came in contact with. You did the same with the pens, grabbing a random pack before turning on your heel and heading towards the front.

Or, rather, heading directly into a broad, firm chest. You hadn’t heard any footsteps, but while your back was turned Steve had apparently stalked up behind you, and now you were so close that you could smell the distinct scent of pine wafting off of him. Pine and…something else, something musky. It made your mouth water and your eyes flutter shut, and you could have sworn that you heard a deep growl sound from his chest.

The noise startled you so badly that you dropped everything, even your paper bag from Earl’s, and you felt as if your entire body was trembling as you turned away. On unsteady feet, you walked back to the front, glancing at Greg and Lou out of the corner of your eye as you headed towards the door. Lou was watching you with a concerned expression painted across his face, but Greg was still staring Steve down, as if he were sizing him up.

The cold, early-spring wind hit you square in the face once you exited the store, and it sobered you up enough to cease your nervous trembling. There was still a sense of blind panic, though, a deep-seated fear that drove you to march over to your car without turning back.

As you peeled out of your parking space and sped towards your home, you slowly began to calm down, taking slow, even breaths to slow the frantic beating of your heart. As you put more and more distance between you and the mysterious man from the art store, you found that, even later on when you were safe in your home, you still couldn’t rationalize why you’d felt the way you had. And that evening, when you were getting ready to go to bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Typically, you kept the curtains in your bedroom open, enjoying the sight of the forest laying just beyond the panes of glass. But tonight, before going to bed, you drew them shut before burrowing under the covers, hiding away from the lingering, unexplainable dread that had followed you home that day.

____________

You weren’t sure what had woken you. When you jolted out of your slumber, you were laying sprawled out over your mattress, your sheets tangled around your ankles. Everything was quiet, unsettlingly so. It was as if your cottage was holding its breath, waiting for something horrible to happen. The world was black beyond your windows, and the clock on your bedside table read 3:42 in the morni-

Wait.

The lingering tendrils of sleep within your brain melted away as you bolted upright, your wide eyes focused on your windows and the curtains that were neatly pulled away from them. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you slowly, deliberately, stood up from your bed, reaching for your phone blindly as you kept your eyes on the windows.

You drew the curtains closed as your thumb hovered over the emergency call button, and you gulped before turning towards your open bedroom door.

“H-hello?” you called out, voice still thick with sleep.

There was no answer, and you took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. You were relieved to find nothing out of place; the kitchen, as well, was in perfect order, as was your tiny bathroom. You grew bolder as you searched your house, checking underneath your bed and inside of your wardrobe, but still you found nothing.

Eventually, you sauntered over to your back door, and that’s when you smelled it. Smelled him. The same scent that had flooded your senses back at the bookstore was thick in the air right next to the backdoor. You blinked rapidly, feeling a stirring in your gut as you inhaled it, and you gulped as you faced the door.

“…Steve?” you murmured, suddenly unable to make a sound any louder than a whisper.

Without realizing what you were doing, your hand came up to the doorknob, tracing the curve of it with your thumb. A tiny, experimental twist revealed that it wasn’t locked, and a small voice in the back of your head supplied that it was sure you’d locked it before going to sleep.

One more twist, and the door popped open, goosebumps rising up over your skin as the night air rushed over you. You turned on the porch light with a flick of your fingers and stepped out, wincing when the floorboards creaked under your feet. You half expected to see a naked man standing there just as Earl had said, but there was nobody.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning against the doorway as your eyes flitted over the forest. You felt silly, getting all paranoid for no reason. With a small, sheepish smile, you straightened up and turned to head back inside, eager to climb back under your warm sheets and forget about the whole thing.

But that was when you saw it.

You stopped in your tracks and sucked in a deep breath as the wolf sauntered out from the tree line, its eyes focused directly on you just as yours were focused on it. Its fur was sandy and mottled with streaks of light brown and creamy white, and in the dim light you thought that you caught a flash of blue in its eyes. You took a step backwards as that same smell washed over you, and for a short, fleeting moment, you thought that there was something familiar about the beast.

It took another step towards you, and that was when you realized how massive it was. You’d seen pictures of wolves on the internet; you knew how big they were supposed to be compared to people. But this was another thing completely; this wolf looked to be the size of a grizzly bear, and you knew that if it were to stand up on its two hind legs, it would tower over you.

Abruptly, you broke out of your paralysis, blinking rapidly as you turned back towards your door. You heard a growl from behind you, but you ignored it as you fled back into your house, slamming the door shut and turning the lock back into place. A thud sounded on its other side, followed by the scratching of claws against wood.

You waited several moments, silently begging the animal to stop, but the thumping only carried on, accompanied by muted, distressed whining. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your phone, punching in ‘911’ and holding the device up to your ear.

“911, where is your emergency?”

“U-um… I-I’m at 432 Nottington Lane. Please, there’s this, this wolf outside and it’s trying to get it, and…”

As you spoke, the noises suddenly stopped. You paused, frowning at the door and straining your ears. But everything had once more gone silent.

“Hello, ma’am? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m still here. Um… I think it’s gone now. It’s… Yeah, it’s gone. I’m really sorry to bother you guys. Just, uh… Just ignore this call, please. I’m sorry.”

You hung up and set your phone down on the kitchen counter, staring hard at your back door.

“…Shit.”

_______________

You didn’t close your curtains again after that night. You told yourself it was because there was no reason to, that you had nothing to hide yourself from. But, in the back of your mind, you knew that it was because you were too afraid of waking up with them open of someone else’s accord.

Two days went by with no further incident. You kept up with your little routine, throwing yourself into your work and acting as if you weren’t still shaken up from the ordeal. You called Earl and let him know you’d seen a wolf, just like he’d said, and the two of you had laughed over the scare it had given you. But the laughter didn’t reach your eyes or your heart, and it was still hard for you to fall asleep whenever night came around.

On the third day, though, you decided that you needed to get out. Every time your eyes strayed to the forest, you felt a pinprick of anxiety, and you were desperate to forget about what had happened. And so, dressing in your most comfortable leggings and oversized sweater, you ventured out into town, stopping for breakfast at the soda shop.

Mary Jo’s Soda Shop had been open and owned by Mary Jo herself since before you were born. It was located right in the center of town, and it was the closest thing to ‘busy’ that the small township’s population could be capable of. The front porch was lined with old, worn rocking chairs, and empty planter boxes sat beneath every single window; you were sure that they’d be overflowing with petunias as the weather turned warmer.

The atmosphere was warm and cozy as you stepped inside. People of all different races and walks of life found solace under Mary’s roof, and it was clear by the easy smiles, easy laughter, and easy conversation that pervaded the dining room. A teenaged girl, who you’d later find out to be Mary Jo’s granddaughter, showed you to your table and took your order, and as you settled down into the cracked-leather seat of your booth, you found yourself finally relaxing.

It was easy to get lost in your own thoughts, especially with the dull roar of voices and the soft sounds of country music playing over the radio as background noise. You stared off into space as you sipped your orange juice, content to just zone out for a few moments and let your brain go on autopilot.

Maybe that was why it startled you so much when a man abruptly slid into the seat across from you. You were pulled out of your revelry by a dark shadow suddenly appearing in your peripheral vision, and your initial fright only deepened when you looked up to see who it was.

“Steve…”

The man from yesterday was staring you down, dressed this time in a red and black flannel. His hair, too, looked like it had been combed out, and his beard was shiny and soft-looking, as if he’d rubbed oil into it that morning.

You didn’t know what to say as he sat across from you, his fingers laced together on top of the table, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the two of you were completely silent.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, and you arched your eyebrow at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he let out a long sigh through his nose. He didn’t answer your question, and you started to shift in your seat as he continued to stare.

Finally, you told him, murmuring your name under your breath. Upon hearing it, he nodded, finally glancing up when your waitress came back to take your order. When her eyes fell onto the man seated across from you, she visibly paled, her mascara-lined eyes widening as her smile turned to a grimace.

“Mr. Rogers,” she said timidly, “my grandmother told you not to come in anymore-“

“It’ll be fine, Rosie,” he grunted. “I won’t cause any trouble; I’m just talking with (Y/N), here.”

Rosie looked over to you, and you blinked up at her, hoping your incredulity was showing through in your eyes.

“I… I’m not sure…”

Steve huffed and looked over at you, a predatory edge appearing in his visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged you. “Tell her.”

“I really don’t-“

Suddenly, his scent was flooding your senses once more, and you almost gagged on your words as you breathed it in. You wondered why Rosie didn’t seem to notice it as it washed over you, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“I, uh…” Your voice trailed off distractedly, and Steve’s knee nudged yours under the table.

“I-it’s fine,” you finally managed to stutter, and a pleased smirk appeared over his features.

“See? Everything is fine,” he insisted. “Now, weren’t you coming to take our orders?”

Rosie hesitated, but finally she slipped a notepad out of her pocket and nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll have the sampler with crispy bacon. Eggs over easy. And, uh… a biscuit on the side,” Steve listed off.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat, prompting you to jump a little before telling Rosie what you would like.

“Oh! Uh… I’ll have the same,” you muttered, though you hadn’t really been planning on eating anything of the sort.

But Rosie jotted it down in her notepad, all but fleeing to the kitchen after you were done speaking.

“And I’ll take some coffee!” Steve called after her.

When it was finally just the two of you, he once again gave you his full attention, and you fought to keep your mind straight.

“I don’t…know you,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know you, and you’re making me uncomfortable. Please, just-“

“I really liked the nightgown you had on last night.”

Your eyes bugged open, and your head shot up to look at him. You felt your blood run cold as he watched you with that same smirk he’d worn while ordering Rosie around, and you clutched your purse tighter to yourself.

“Wh…What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he insisted. “How are you liking living in that cottage? The last few people there-“

“What the fuck,” you interrupted. “You…you were watching me?”

He sighed at your interruption but nodded, leaning forward on his elbows.

“And you were watching me.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I never saw you, or I would’ve called the cops-“

“But you did see me,” he insisted. “While I was in my other form.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but then understanding came over you, and you shook your head.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You mean…the wolf?”

Steve nodded, looking up when Rosie came back with his coffee. She all but slammed the cup on the table, spilling a few drops of the beverage as she poured it. After shooting him a sour glare, she turned on her heel to attend to the other tables around you, the occupants thereof starting to notice who you were sitting with. The din of voices had gone just a bit quieter as they watched him, and you were starting to realize that the entire town knew who Steve was, and judging on the locals’ reaction to him, his reputation wasn’t on the favorable side of things.

“So… Let me get this straight,” you deadpanned, watching as Steve took a sip from his steaming mug. “You’re saying that you were the wolf I saw?”

He nodded, swallowing his coffee.

“I’m among the last of my kind,” he sighed, tapping his fingers against his cup. “At least in this area of the country. But, yeah, that was me, scratching at your door. I was honestly a little hurt by your reaction-“

“You’re fucking insane.”

A scowl overtook his features, and his hands tensed as his fingers went still.

“I would really prefer it,” he growled, “if you didn’t use that sort of language with me, Omega.”

“Ome- What?” You shook your head, unable to process how insane this man really was. “Ok, I’m done here.”

You grabbed your purse and stood up from the booth, but a hand clamped down on your upper arm as you made for the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve insisted, and you felt fear course through you at how possessive he’d just sounded. “We have a lot we need to talk about.”

“Let go of me!” You tried to pull away from him, but you might as well have been struggling against an iron chain. Steve didn’t budge as he held you in place, and a whimper escaped your throat as he began pulling you to sit next to him in the booth.

“Steve.”

Both of you froze when you heard the voice, and you looked up to see three men standing over your table, frowning at the man who still had a firm hold on you.

“Steve, let the girl go,” one of them said, and you saw Steve’s lip curl out of the corner of your eye.

“Rhodey,” he grunted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not long enough,” the man fired back.

For a second, you were afraid that Steve was going to ignore them, but then his grip on you disappeared. You hurriedly stood up again, backing away until you were out of arm’s reach from him. The entire restaurant was silent as everybody within held their breath, watching Rhodey and Steve stare one another down.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Steve said, and it was then that you realized you couldn’t wait there any longer. You didn’t care how it played out; you just wanted to get out of there.

And so, while everyone was distracted, you turned on your heel and slipped out, pushing past the front door, running past the rocking chairs and planter boxes, crossing the street without first looking both ways. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute, and you didn’t fully know where you were running to until you were standing in the entry way of Earl’s bookstore.

“Hey, there,” he called out to you, but his typical cheerful greeting died on his tongue when he saw your face. “What happened?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Earl were seated in his office. You’d told him everything, save for the way Steve’s scent affected you. You knew it was crazy, and you didn’t want one of your only friends in your new town to think you were as insane as your stalker.

“…Shit.”

It was the first word he’d uttered since you began telling him your tale, and he rubbed his forehead as he took in your story.

“Shit. I mean… I always knew there was something off about that Rogers boy,” he admitted. “But he’s never pulled anything like this.”

You quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at him.

“Why does everyone dislike him?” you asked. “It seems like the whole town has something against him.”

Your friend sighed and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” he started. “Steve, he grew up here. He was always the golden boy – never cursed, never acted disrespectful. Hell, he was a boy scout for years, and all throughout high school he was the team quarterback. He won so many games that he became a local celebrity.

“But, uh… Well. Shit hit the fan the day he turned 18.”

You frowned; you couldn’t picture the crazy, creepy man you’d just been borderline-assaulted by as a popular, polite teenager.

“What happened when he turned 18?” you asked.

Earl hesitated, wringing his hands. For a pregnant pause, he didn’t say anything, but finally he took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t personally have anything against the guy,” he finally huffed. “But even I get the creeps when I’m around him. That boy, he was never the same after that fourth of July. Hell, the town hasn’t been the same since.”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and finally Earl began the story.

“Steve’s folks were a nice couple. He was their only kid, so each year, Sarah and Joseph would throw Steve this big birthday party. I’m talkin’ fireworks, barbeque, the whole nine yards. But his 18th birthday outdid them all; the whole town practically showed up for it.

“But Steve was off the entire day; I think he was sick or something. He was real sweaty, and his eyes were all…red. Like he’d been scratchin’ at ‘em. And when the fireworks started goin’ off… The boy lost it.

“It was like a flip switched in him; next thing we knew, he was takin’ off into the woods, holdin’ his head like his skull was gonna split in two. His mama went runnin’ after him, and then his pops went to get ‘em after about five minutes or so when there was no sign of them comin’ back.

“After half an hour, we went searchin’ for ‘em, and it wasn’t till dawn that we found the three of them.”

Earl took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand as he recalled the memory.

“I was in the team that found his parents, and… Hon, they were butchered. The bodies, they were hardly recognizable. Big bites had been taken outta them; blood was everywhere. Another team found Steve about half a mile away, completely naked and shivering by the river.”

“Oh, my god,” you murmured. “That’s… That’s horrible.”

Your friend nodded gravely, but he wasn’t done yet.

“We all figured that it was a coyote that got ‘em,” he continued. “Or a wolf. But Steve… He was in shock, you see, so take what I’m about to say with a grain o’ salt. But all the way to the police station, he kept sayin’… He kept sayin’, ‘I didn’t mean to kill them… I didn’t mean to kill them.’

“O’ course, no one really believed him; it was clear that an animal had gotten to them, and this was Steve Rogers we were talking about. The kid had never said an unkind word to anyone. And his family got along great.

“A few years passed, and Steve was never the same, but we expected as much. Everyone was still nice to him, and he tried for a while, you know? But then Peggy moved into town.”

“Who’s Peggy?”

“She was this real nice girl – British. She moved with her family to the area. Shoot, she was a firecracker. Didn’t take any shit from nobody; the whole town fell in love with her. Including poor ol’ Stevie.

“When the two started dating, we were thrilled for ‘em. Steve was finally starting to act more like himself; you shoulda seen him. The kid was head over heels, and she was the same. About six months went by, and we really thought that they were gonna make it.

“But then…”

Earl swallowed thickly, eyes darting back up to your face before resting once again on his hands.

“Peggy was found one day in the woods, just like Steve’s parents – mauled, butchered…dead.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“No one saw or heard from Steve for years after that. The kid just vanished into thin air without warning. And so soon after Peggy’s death, well… You can imagine the rumors that started flying around about him. Five years went by, and that was when people started hearing and seeing strange things in the woods. And your cottage, it’s right by where the bodies were found; you can’t be more than a quarter of a mile from where they found Peg.

“Eventually, Steve moved back into town, though no one recognized him. He’d always been a skinny, lean kinda guy, but when he moved back, he looked like he does now. And even if he hadn’t changed so much on the outside, no one would’ve recognized the polite young man we’d all watched grow up in this new Steve. He was mean; I can’t tell you how many fights he got in at the bar, or how many times he lashed out at someone just to have an excuse to throw some punches.

“Whatever happened to his family and his girl, he’s never been the same since. And if he really believes what he told you earlier at the soda shop, then he’s finally lost his mind.”

___________

You spent the night at Earl’s house. He and his wife set up their guest bedroom for you, and as you and Sherry ate dinner, Earl called the sheriff. You listened in as he told him everything that Steve had done, including watching you the night before, and after ending the call, Earl gave you the sheriff’s number.

“He said to call him at the first sign of trouble,” Earl instructed. “And he said that he’s gonna head over to Steve’s cabin to have a nice, long talk with him. Don’t you worry; Sheriff Wilson is a tough son of a bitch, and he’s a great man. You’re in good hands with him.”

You thanked the couple profusely, and you were finally able to sleep restfully through the night, knowing that you weren’t alone. You didn’t even mind that you could hear Earl and Sherry’s snoring from all the way down the hall; you hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in days.

The next morning, Sheriff Wilson stopped by after Sherry had served up breakfast, and you had to admit that you did feel better after talking to him.

“So I set everything straight with Steve,” Sam explained. “He said that he’d been drunk that morning at breakfast, and he admitted to saying some things that he regretted. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf, and he said that he would stay away from you from here on out, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable if he moved to a different country altogether, but I’ll take it,” you’d joked weakly, coaxing a laugh out of the sheriff.

“Well, I’ll run it by him the next time we see each other,” he’d chuckled. “But for now, I think you’ll be just fine.”

After helping Sherry clean up from breakfast, you reluctantly got into your car and started back to your cottage, feeling your short-lived relief start to dwindle away as you approached your home. Who’s to say that Steve would stay true to his word? And there was something about the memory of him calling you ‘omega’ that didn’t sit well with you. You had no idea what that meant, but the conviction, the possessive, commanding tone in his voice still made shivers crawl up and down your spine.

Once you stepped into your cottage, you gave each room a cursory once-over, making sure nothing was out of place before plopping down onto your couch with your laptop. You were severely behind on work, and you needed the distraction to calm your nerves.

Before you knew it, the sun was starting to slip over the horizon, and as the evening turned to night, your eyelids started drooping. You’d finally managed to catch up on work, and although it took you until 9 o’clock at night, you were back on schedule with your blog.

Finally giving in to your sleepiness, you stood up and stretched before methodically going around to each door and window, making sure that they were all closed and locked. After once more checking that Steve wasn’t hiding in your wardrobe, shower, or backyard, you relaxed and went into your bedroom, changing into a flannel pajama set before crawling into bed.

Sleep came easily to you that night, but it didn’t stay for long.

_________

It was, once again, just after 3 in the morning when you woke up, although there was something different about this time around. There was an almost electric charge to the air, and it immediately made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You sat up in bed and looked around your room, and even though the curtains were still closed, just as you’d left them, you immediately noticed the smell.

Your hand fell onto your nightstand, blindly fumbling for your phone, but it wasn’t where you’d left it. Panic pierced through you, and you frantically reached for your charging chord, but it was no longer plugged into your cell. There was, however, something new sitting on your bedside table, and you flicked your lamp on to see clearly what it was.

Your blood went cold when you saw the paper bag from Earl’s, still filled with your new books, just as you’d left it in the art shop.

“I’d been meaning to give that back to you.”

A scream tore itself out of your lips, and your hand flew up to clap over your mouth as you turned to the man now leaning in your doorway.

Steve was watching you with an amused smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His hair was wild, and you noticed the way his chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. He looked…unhinged, and Earl’s voice started ringing in your ears, telling you all the gory details about the deaths that had followed this man through his life.

“Steve, please,” you begged, pressing your back against your headboard. “I don’t know what you want-“

“Oh, c’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a smart girl; I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

With that, he pushed off of the wall and sauntered towards you, ignoring the way you trembled as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I read your blog, by the way,” he remarked. “I actually liked it; you’ve got a talent with writing.”

You gulped, not sure what to say as he turned to face you. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes, something other than the smug cynicism that usually dwelled there, but he looked away before you could get a good look at it.

“I’m sure Earl told you a lot of things about me,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry that’s how you had to hear them. But I’m not… I don’t want to hurt you. Honestly.”

“Wow, that really puts me at ease,” you grumbled. “It definitely makes the fact that you’ve broken into my house twice now totally ok.”

Steve huffed, and annoyance crossed his handsome features.

“Careful, omega,” he grunted. “I’m trying to be nice, here.”

You wanted to snap at him that he should really try harder, then, but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that you didn’t want to anger him if you didn’t have to.

“…Why do you keep calling me that?” you instead asked, and the fire in his gaze cooled just a bit.

“…I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he finally sighed. “And I can understand why this all sounds so crazy; if I were in your situation, I would probably think the same thing. But just… hear me out, ok? I’m going to tell you everything I know.”

You nodded, hugging your knees to your chest, and after another deep breath he began.

“I used to be normal, or so I thought,” he began. “I used to be like you; I didn’t know what was out there. I didn’t know that certain legends that we’ve all learned to accept as fiction were actually based on fact. But that all changed on my 18th birthday.

“That was the day that I first turned into a wolf.” Steve paused, looking pained for a moment, but after swallowing thickly he continued. “I had no clue what was happening to me. I just felt…wrong, like I was being torn apart from the inside. I fought to keep control of myself, but… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“People got hurt; I’m sure you’ve been told all the gritty details. But that wasn’t… It wasn’t me. I tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to keep it inside, bottled up, but eventually I couldn’t hold back anymore. And that was when I left.

“I went looking for people like me. It took me a while, but eventually I found a small group of them in New York. They called themselves the Howling Commandos.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head.

“Not the name I would’ve chosen, but they were good people. They helped me control it, taught me how to remain myself even when I’m in my other form. And I learned more about what it means to be a, uh…

“Werewolf.”

You bit your lip, staring at him as you grew even more fearful; he believed this. You could tell by the way his eyes were glistening with barely-contained tears, and if you weren’t so terrified of him, you would feel sorry for how sad he looked.

“Steve, you… you must realize that this is hard for me to believe, right? I mean… This isn’t Twilight; this is the real world.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of that book.

“There’s about a thousand things wrong with that fucking story, and I’ll die mad about it,” he muttered under his breath, and you hugged yourself tighter as he stood up.

“You want me to prove it to you? Fine.”

Steve stood still for a long moment, closing his eyes, and you found your gaze straying to the door behind his back. He was distracted, evidently focused on transforming into a fucking wolf, oblivious to you as you slowly moved to set your feet on the floor.

Now is your moment, your brain whispered, and after taking a deep breath, you leapt to your feet. You didn’t notice the way his skin was slowly starting to grow patches of blonde fur, nor did you register that his voice had become more of an animalistic growl as he realized that you were trying to run. You were solely focused on making it out alive.

The back door was closer to you than the front, and you could practically feel Steve’s breath on the back of your neck as he gave chase, and so you nearly yanked the door off of its rusty, old hinges as you went flying out onto the back porch. You just barely managed to close the door behind you, and right before it slammed shut, you were able to make out an open maw filled with sharp teeth. The same thumping you’d heard several nights ago sounded from within your home, but with the way the wood was creaking and splintering, you knew it wouldn’t keep Steve trapped inside for long.

You began to run towards your car, but with a curse you realized that your keys were still resting on your coffee table inside the cottage, and you wouldn’t go back inside there if someone offered you a million dollars to. So, fully aware of what a terrible idea it was, you started running down the length of your gravel driveway, the small stones and twigs digging into your feet until you felt them starting to grow slick with blood.

You didn’t get far at all before you heard the sound of a low, deep howl split the silence of the night, and you pumped your legs even faster when you heard heavy footfalls starting to give chase behind you. Frantically, you turned and made a beeline for the forest, hoping to lose him in the woods. Low branches and brambles clawed at your face, and the cuts on your feet burned so bad that tears started rolling down your cheeks.

It was simultaneously an eternity and a millisecond before you felt a massive weight crash into you from behind, and with a cry you fell onto your belly. Your arms and legs scrambled about as you tried to crawl away, but you stopped with another scream when a set of impossibly sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder. Even though they didn’t cut deep, it was still enough to scare you into submission, and you immediately went still as your captor panted above you.

Your chest rose and fell as you fought to catch your breath, but it felt as if your heart had stopped beating entirely when you chanced a look to your right and saw…a paw. A huge, sandy-blonde paw about the size of your head was planted in the mud right next to your neck. You turned, and on your left side was the same thing.

Slowly, you rolled over onto your back, and you found yourself face to face with the wolf from before, only this time, you were close enough to see its blue eyes clearly – Steve’s eyes.

“…Steve?” you breathed.

Before your disbelieving eyes, the animal hovering over you started to shift and change, morphing gradually back into the man who’d terrorized you so much up to this point. Except now, as he straddled your hips, completely nude, you knew that he’d been right all along.

“Still think I’m crazy?” he panted, still out of breath from the chase.

“I… How…”

“I tried to tell you,” he grumbled, leaning down. You squirmed when you felt him press his nose to your neck, nuzzling it as he inhaled deeply, and you whimpered when his cock twitched against your thigh. “God, you have no idea what your scent does to me.”

You made a small noise of protest when his tongue darted out, laving over a spot right under your jaw.

“I thought it was too good to be true, you know,” he groaned, and you let out a noise that was dangerously close to a moan as you realized you could smell him once again. “I thought that people had to be a werewolf to be an alpha or an omega, but as soon as I smelled you in the art shop… Fuck, I knew you were mine.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to protest, but you were silenced when Steve nipped at your neck.

“We both know that’s not true,” he chided. “We both know what my scent does to you.”

Steve dragged his teeth down the side of your neck, and you shivered at the sensation. You wanted to fight this; you didn’t want to give in to him. But something inside of you refused to do anything but lay there beneath him, panting as he tasted your skin.

“I’ve never been with an omega before,” he confessed. “The Commandos told me they were incredibly rare, a dying breed just like me. But fate must have brought us together for a reason.”

“I’m… I’m not an omega,” you insisted, but a soft mewl fell out of your lips when he ground his hips forward, the line of his cock sliding up the length of your clothed pussy.

“Then why do you have a mating gland?” he rasped, his tongue darting out to lick at a spot on your neck.

“A what?” you squeaked, but suddenly his hands were on your hips, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. His palms groped your ass, and suddenly you felt your pajamas being pulled down until they pooled around your knees.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Steve growled.

No, no, no. Your thoughts were swirling rapidly as Steve’s fingers slid down your spine. You didn’t want this; you weren’t an omega; Steve was crazy.

Why does your body want this so bad?

You couldn’t find the strength to try and crawl away when Steve’s hands left you, but your eyes widened when he suddenly spread your legs wider apart. The cold night air was icy against your cunt and your thighs, and when the warmth of his hands finally returned to your body, you couldn’t hold in your moan.

“That’s right, omega,” he panted, his hand reaching down to cup your pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet; it’s already dripping down your thighs…”

Your pussy made an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as he pushed his finger inside, and your body’s reaction started drowning out your brain. As he thrust his finger in and out, your hips started pushing back against him as white noise echoed in your ears.

“Mmm,” you whined, clenching your teeth. “M-more, fuck-“

“More?” Steve cooed. “You want more?”

You nodded your head, and a gasp parted your lips as he added another finger, curling it in a way that had you seeing stars. Your legs spread wider, and you dropped to your elbows, pushing back in time with his hand.

“This is what you need,” he growled. “You need your alpha to take care of you, don’t you? To use your pretty little cunt and fill you up with my seed. Ain’t that right, doll?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, feeling your walls start to flutter around him.

All too soon, though, he pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. You burrowed your face into your arms and whined at the loss, but a few seconds later, Steve was gripping your hips. You could feel his fully hard length against your ass, and your breath caught in your throat upon feeling how big it was.

“W-wait-“

Steve shushed you, tangling one of his hands in your hair as the tip of his cock glided through your folds, brushing against your clit.

“It’s ok, omega,” he whispered. “Just lay back and take it.”

With that, his head pressed against your entrance, and your lips parted in a silent scream as he impaled you. Your cervix ached as his dick pressed against it, and you were vaguely aware of the broken moans falling out of your lips.

“Fuck, doll,” your alpha breathed, and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Feels so good, so fucking good. My good girl…”

You groaned when he drew his hips back and thrust forward again, jarring your whole body with the movement. Your teeth clenched together as he found his rhythm, the initial stretch still burning. You’d never felt anything like this before, and the pain was mixing with your pleasure until you couldn’t tell one from the other.

Slowly, as the minutes went by, your abused cunt started to adjust, and your moans became less and less strained as you once more felt pleasure start to crest within you.

“That’s it,” Steve praised, pushing your hair away so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. “Just relax; let your alpha make you feel good.”

You whimpered as he started thrusting faster, his hips snapping as deep, gravelly growls spilled out of his throat. Your own moans filled the air as you once again felt your orgasm build up inside of you. Your pussy walls contracted and fluttered as you got closer and closer, and Steve’s hand came down hard on your ass.

“Go ahead, omega,” he commanded. “Cum for me; don’t hold back. Give it to me; let me feel it. Cum for me-“

With a wail, your body did as it was commanded, and you trembled as you reached your climax. Your cunt squeezed his cock as he slowed his thrusts, and your hips moved of their own accord as you rode it out. Quiet, hoarse moans were still trailing out of your mouth as you came down from your high, and Steve’s beard tickled your skin as he pressed kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you were sickened to realize that you enjoyed his words of encouragement.

You were surprised when he pulled his cock out of you, and you allowed him to flip you over onto your back. His cheeks were flushed, and he was panting, and your eyes trailed down to see his cock still painfully hard.

Without warning, he shoved it back inside of you, and your hands flew up, digging your nails into his back as he once again started thrusting at a brutal pace.

“’M gonna fill your fucking pussy up,” he was moaning, his hair falling into his eyes while his mouth hung open. “Gonna breed you like the little bitch you are-“

Despite having just cum, shocks of pleasure spread through you as he filled you, and in this position, you could watch his muscles bulge and flex as he chased his release. His eyes were squeezed shut, and one of his hands was pawing and kneading at your breast as he used the other to support his weight. The veins in his neck throbbed as he grew closer and closer, and you were taken off guard to find that you were approaching your second climax with him.

“You already gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered. “Do it. Give it to me; I want it.”

You closed your eyes and arched up, frenzied moans of yes, please, God, more, I need more, spilling past your lips almost unintelligibly. You were so close – just a little more and you would be pushed over the edge.

Just before you could reach it, though, Steve’s eyes snapped open, focusing on your neck hungrily. You should have felt fear, knowing what he was, what had happened to his parent and his last lover. But instinct took over, and you found yourself tilting your head back, baring your neck to him in a sign of submission.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, and you shrieked as his teeth pierced your skin, right where he’d claimed earlier your ‘mating gland’ was. You closed your eyes, expecting to feel your life fade away, ready to see blood spurting up from the wound. But that never happened; no, instead you felt as if you’d just been electrified. Every sensation you were feeling was suddenly amplified tenfold, and your vision went black as you came for the second time.

Your ears were ringing, but you were still able to hear the primal roar that Steve let out as he came, painting your inner walls with his seed as hips finally slowed to a stop. For several long seconds, the two of you were perfectly still save for your chests as they rose and fell with your heavy breathing. Steve’s cock began to soften inside of you, but he made no move to pull away. No, instead he collapsed over you, his head resting against your chest as his heated skin shielded you from the cold air.

“You were perfect,” you heard him whisper, and one of his fingers came up to trace the bite mark he’d left behind on your neck. “Your bond scar is gonna be so gorgeous, little omega.”

Sleep threatened to overtake you as you lay there, not truly processing Steve’s words as his weight atop you lulled you towards sleep.

“Go ahead and rest, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll carry you back home, and then we can go again. Don’t worry, doll; I won’t stop until you’re nice and round with my babies.”

You should have felt scared – you should have pulled away and ran into the woods. But instead, you let out a content noise of acknowledgement before doing just as he said. The last thing you registered before slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber was his arms as they wrapped around you and picked you up, carrying you away from the road and into the forest.

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