#<- had to leave something running overnight

[wvyik]

paws and promises ᝰ ‧₊ ᵎᵎ

sam winchester x fem! reader

ꕤ summary: a rainstorm brings an unexpected guest into your life, but it’s the way sam cares for her that makes you fall even harder for him.

♯ warnings: extreme fluff, cat dad sam supremacy, nurturing! reader, kitten cuddles, pre established relationship, bunker life but make it dreamy, you’re in love and it’s soo obvious, peach the cat is the third main character actually, don’t read while ovulating.

♯ notes: hi my lil lovebugs… did u miss me?? because I’ve been GONE for like 10 whole days (insane) and yes it was because of stardew valley. but i’m back now with fluffy sam content to heal us all. love u. missed u. pls enjoy sam being the softest cat dad alive.

The rain had been coming down in sheets by the time he got back. Loud, unrelenting, like the sky was trying to wash the world clean. You’d been curled up on the couch in your favorite sweater, blanket pulled over your knees, the bunker feeling oddly hollow without Sam there.

He was only supposed to run out for a quick supply run, but of course, things never stayed simple for long when you were a Winchester. Still, you didn’t expect to see him burst through the door, dripping wet, carrying the grocery bags in one arm and something small, shivering, and wrapped in his flannel in the other.

You blinked, confused for a second; until the flannel moved and you heard the softest mew you’d ever heard in your life, “She was in the middle of the road,” he said, like it explained everything. And maybe it did. Because Sam couldn’t not care.

He couldn’t look at something tiny and helpless and keep walking. That’s just who he was— someone whose heart broke open for things that needed gentleness. “I didn’t even think about it. I just… I couldn’t leave her.”

And that was it. She was in your home. In your lives. In your hearts within minutes. You named her Peach, because of how fuzzy and small and soft she was. She took to Sam immediately, climbing his sweatshirt, curling into his chest like she knew exactly who had saved her.

But she didn’t avoid you— she liked curling up in your lap when you were journaling or napping with her cheek pressed to your neck when Sam carried both of you to bed. She had a favorite nap spot on top of the laundry you always forgot to fold. She started kneading on Sam’s pillow. And she had this tiny little purr that only started when you were all three together, like she knew she belonged.

Sam turned into a full-on cat dad overnight, without even realizing it. You’d wake up some mornings to find him lying flat on his stomach, using his phone light to peer under the couch because she’d chased a toy under there and refused to move. He talked to her constantly. Sometimes when he thought you were asleep, you’d hear him whispering to her in that low, careful voice, telling her stories or just… rambling softly like she was a baby in his arms.

You caught him once reading from an old lore book, letting her fall asleep on his chest while his fingers absently traced little circles behind her ears. You didn’t say anything, you just stood in the doorway, watching, your heart feeling like it could hardly hold all the love inside it.

It made you fall for him all over again, seeing that side of him. Not the hunter. Not the protector. But the caretaker. The nurturer. The boy who had once been expected to carry the world and still managed to find space for something so small. You’d be doing dishes, and he’d wander up behind you with Peach perched on his shoulder, her tiny paws settled like she was born to live there.

You’d be mid-book and he’d gently place her in your lap like a warm little offering, her purring a rhythm against your thighs. He bought her toys, a miniature bed, even little bow collars; one in soft pink that matched your favorite mug. When she scratched him once while playing, he didn’t even flinch. Just looked down at the mark and said, “She’s got your spirit,” with a soft smile.

Nights became your favorite. After lights-out, Peach would usually find her way to the foot of the bed, curling herself into the warm pocket between you two. Sam would always pull you closer, arm slipping around your waist, lips brushing the shell of your ear with a soft, “Goodnight, baby,” before everything went quiet. You’d lie there, cocooned in warmth, one of his hands resting against your back and the faint sound of Peach’s purring in the dark. And sometimes, when sleep didn’t come fast enough, you’d whisper to him about how lucky you felt. About how it felt like having a family. Even if it was just the three of you.

He’d kiss the tip of your nose and say, “It is a family,” without hesitation. And that would be enough to make your eyes sting a little.

You’d never thought a stray kitten in the rain could change so much. But now, every morning felt a little lighter. Every evening felt a little softer. You had your person. You had your home. And somehow, against all odds, you had this tiny heartbeat that reminded you to slow down, breathe deeper, and love harder.

And when you caught Sam on the floor one afternoon, curled up with Peach nestled in the crook of his arm, both of them fast asleep in a patch of sunlight, you swore you could actually feel your heart stretch with how much you loved them.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep there too. The plan was to just sit with them a little, maybe rest your eyes while the kettle boiled. But when you saw them on the floor, both of them breathing slow, wrapped in each other like they’d always belonged— you couldn’t help yourself. You laid down behind him, one hand on his back, cheek resting between his shoulder blades. And then… everything just drifted.

When you woke up, the sun had dipped lower, throwing soft gold light across the floor. The room smelled faintly like the herbal tea you never finished and the warmth of clean laundry. Sam stirred first, shifting just enough that Peach flopped gently off his bicep and into the blanket beside her like a princess tossed from her throne. She made a soft noise of protest, then curled right back into his chest like nothing ever happened. He smiled when he felt you move behind him.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, breath brushing your jaw. “Did we nap through the whole afternoon?”

“Almost,” you whispered, nuzzling against his shirt. “It was nice.”

“Peach snores,” he said quietly, like it was a secret only the two of you should know.

You giggled, fingers brushing over the edge of his hoodie sleeve. “You do too sometimes.”

He groaned softly, burying his face into your arm. “Don’t expose me like that.”

You reached up, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “It’s cute. Everything you do is cute.”

“Yeah?” he said, lifting his head, eyes heavy and soft. “That’s dangerous information to give me.”

You smiled shyly, tucking your face into his shoulder again, feeling that warm flutter in your chest that only he ever managed to stir. You always felt like this with Sam— safe. Held. Like the world outside could be falling apart and it wouldn’t matter, because in here it was always quiet and warm and yours.

Peach chose that moment to stretch across both of your legs, her little paws flexing in her sleep like she was dreaming of chasing something. Sam watched her for a second, then looked at you with that look. The one where his eyes get soft at the edges and his lips part like he wants to say something, but he’s scared it’ll make him feel too much all at once. You knew that look by heart.

“You think she knows?” he asked quietly.

“Knows what?”

“That she owns us.”

You blinked, then smiled so softly it barely made it to your lips. “Yeah. I think she knew from the minute you picked her up.”

He didn’t answer right away. He just leaned in, brushing his nose against your cheek, thumb stroking across the back of your hand where it was tucked into his. You felt him breathe in, like he was holding something sacred inside his chest. And maybe he was.

“I like it like this,” you said eventually, voice barely a whisper. “You. Me. Her. It feels like… a little life. Not a big one. Just a soft, slow, quiet one.”

Sam closed his eyes and pulled you even closer, Peach still snoozing peacefully at your legs. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he said. “Just… this. Something that doesn’t hurt. Something warm.”

You didn’t need to say anything. You just pressed your forehead to his and let yourself sink into the moment. The golden light. The hush of the room. The sound of Peach’s tiny breathing and Sam’s thumb tracing your knuckles. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t thinking about what came next. There was no monster to fight, no crisis to solve. Just a boy, a girl, and a kitten who made everything softer.

And God, if that wasn’t enough to make you believe in a little bit of magic.

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[ljubimaya]

♱ 𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐄 Baji Keisuke x Reader: 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

♱ SYNOPSIS: A talk with Emma soothed your mind riddled with thoughts of the nightly encounter with the beast from the forest; so you pushed away your fears to search for your necklace. Would you find your silver cross necklace in your grandmother's house, or would you find something far more darker?

♱ C/W: afab reader, no pronouns used, wounds/scars/bruises, reader has a panick attack at some point here, mentions of death, animal death and detailed description of a carcass, stalker themes if you squint, reader is really traumatized from the previous chapter, dark content so Minors dni!!!

♱ W/C: 6.8k words

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Morning arrived and the worries of the prior night continued to haunt you. The very first thing you heard upon waking up was the sound of scratches on wood. Immediately, your blood ran cold, the images of the big wolf of last night flooding your mind and forcing you to enter a frantic state of fight or flight. The only thought your tired, sleep deprived brain could form at the early hours of the morning were about the beast somehow being able to break into the house. You sat up, mentally prepared to book it as soon as your injured feet would touch the ground. Would you have to run straight out of the door down the stairs? Would it be safer to grab Marigold by the collar and jump out the window? After all, your bedroom wasn't that high up in the house, you were sure you could somehow land on your feet, or at least manage to not hurt yourself any further. Thankfully though, you didn't have to think of an elaborate escape plan; the sight of the orange feline scratching the wooden door of your bedroom calmed you down immediately.

Your heart rate calmed down, the shift from the furious hammering feeling against your ribs to the steadier beat made you feel delirious. You breathed in deeply, filling your lungs with air, before breathing out, repeating the breathing exercise until your mind and stomach calmed down as well. It worked — you no longer felt a sick pit in your stomach. There was no way an animal would be able to break into a house like that, you rationalized with yourself mentally. And even if it did, you wouldn't have woken up in the first place.

Getting out of the bed, you carefully stood on your feet before you approached the door. You were pleased to feel the pain of your feet having vanished overnight, though the sore feeling in your thighs remained. It wasn't a bad kind of pain to you. you were used to running on the treadmill and the burning feeling in your legs afterwards; if anything, you usually liked the pain as it would be proof of your hard work and dedication. It was just this time that you couldn't find satisfaction in the soreness of your legs.

Marigold stopped scratching the door and instead turned her attention to you, happily purring and rubbing her head against your legs. The loving gesture of the orange feline warmed your heart, a small but content smile growing on the corners of your lips. "Good morning, sweet girl" you cooed at the cat, bending down to pet her head and scratching her neck before you opened the bedroom door for her to leave. "No wandering out the house again though, ok?" you watched the cat stare back at you and meowing at you before leaving the bedroom. What a silly thing it was to make a cat promise you to stay out of trouble, you thought to yourself, laughing and shaking your head at the thought of Marigold getting lost in the forest again. You knew there was no way she would have understood what you were saying, but something in you told you that the cat would no longer seek out the wilderness anytime soon. Surely, the cat had learned her lesson to stay inside. For now, you mentally added, knowing Marigold was still a mischievous cat regardless of her old age and soft nature.

You walked back to your bed and laid down, hoping to get another hour or two of sleep before you would have to get ready to visit your grandmother at the hospital. You wondered how she was holding up so far. Was she being treated well by the doctors and nurses? Did she finally eat more? Did they perhaps decide to get a therapist involved to help her with the grief of losing her husband? When would Keisuke come and pick you up? Just as you were about to close your eyes, the familiar sound of your phone ring tone rung through your bedroom like loud church bells on a Sunday. Groaning, your hand shot up to grab the device from your nightstand. "Hello?" you answered the call groggily without looking at the caller's ID.

"Good morning to you too" a cherry voice spoke to you through the other line. "You sound like you didn't get much sleep last night" Emma noted. She was right, of course you didn't sleep a lot last night, but you didn't feel like worrying her by telling her about the encounter with the wolf. You chuckled, nodding along despite knowing she wouldn't see it "Yeah, that's right. Guess I was just super worried for grannies health" you continued to tell her about the prior day's events, all ranging from tricking your grandmother into a trip to the hospital to the examinations that took place. "I see" Emma hummed, pausing for a few seconds before adding "This seems so cruel to me. I'm sure there would have been other ways to get her to the hospital without straight up lying to her" "I know" sighing, you closed your eyes, remembering the look of realization and betrayal in your grandmother's eyes when you lead her to the hospital instead of the cute cafe you promised to take her to. "But you didn't see her. You didn't see the way she has been struggling with her health, mobility and appetite for the past few months" And you definitively didn't have to be pushed by Keisuke to get her to a hospital, you almost added, but decided otherwise. There was no need to bring up the raven haired man on your own, as you were sure Emma was was waiting to pounce on you to squeeze out as much information from you as she could get about him. Your roommate and best friend had this remarkable sense of knowing when you liked someone and the skill of making you pursue the person in question. That is why you decided against telling her too much about him the last time you texted her two days ago, or else she would have made sure you would return home with a new boyfriend. Though, a part of you wanted to talk about him — you just didn't want to gush about him too much, especially since your stay in the village was temporary.

"Mhm, so I guess you are going to visit her soon?" "Yeah, Keisuke will drive me to the hospital-" you weren't even able to finish the sentence before the blonde woman on the other line started to giggle. "So that's mystery man's name? Keisuke?" You didn't see her, but you knew the blonde woman well enough to imagine the sly smile spreading on her rosy lips. This was obviously a trap, and you were too naive to have fallen for it. Of course Emma would find a way to make you reveal more information about the man you met on the train just a few days ago. There was no way you could change the topic now, so you sighed in defeat and gave her exactly what she had wanted from you. "Yes, that's his name. His name is Baji Keisuke" "And you think he's cute. Do not deny it, I clearly remember the way your voice went a little higher when you told me about the train thing" Blood rushed to your face at her blatant assumption, feeling like you were being interrogated by her. Shifting in your bed, you put the phone closer to your mouth as you quietly replied "I mean, he's not ugly, that's for sure" Emma hummed at your admission, her voice growing more teasing "Not ugly, huh? That's already much better than you calling him creepy and weird a few days ago"

"I mean, yeah, I guess so" you mumbled into the speaker "But I genuinely don't think this is the time for me to even think of getting with him. I have to take care of grandma and her cat" Emma chuckled "I know, I know. But seriously, don't deny yourself from happiness. I'm sure you could find a way to make things work despite having a lot on your plate" The blonde kept on pestering you, trying to give you a push towards the right direction. You appreciated her for uplifting and believing in you so much, and yet, despite being able to agree on finding the wild ravenette attractive, a strange feeling overcame you at the thought of actually being with him. Rubbing your eyes with your free hand, you got rid of any trace of sleep when you finally replied back to her. "Well, it's a bit complicated" you started before you caught your roommate up on every single thing that had happened with you and Keisuke. From the weird glances to the invasion of your personal space to the sudden revelation that you had apparently known him since childhood, you told her everything, not sparing her of any details. The line on her end went silent when you finished talking.

"You're right"you heard Emma's voice through the phone, her tone reluctant as if she was trying to find the right words "Those things you told me are odd, but I'm sure there could be explanations. Maybe he's just shy?" Emma tried to rationalize, though you could tell by her tone she wasn't so sure herself. You wanted to laugh at her suggestion but refrained from doing so. "No, he is definitively not shy" you confirmed, eyes staring at the bedroom ceiling as you imagined the ravenette's face. You thought of the ever angry furrow in his thick, dark eye brows and his lush lips pushed together in a line, his expression cold like he was made of stone. That was the way he had looked at you a few times from afar — you knew because you caught him stare at you. You would find your gaze wander to him, wanting to look at the mysterious' man. It was strange, really; on one hand, you were deeply afraid of the raven haired man, your stomach churning every time his piercing brown eyes would follow your figure, yet, another part of you wanted to trust him. You wanted to be closer to him, and you wanted to rebuild the friendship you once had with him when you were just a naive and carefree child, to experience what was lost and forgotten, but to you, it felt as if an invisible force prevented you from opening your heart too much to him. Truly, only time would tell if you'll ever overcome the barrier forged by time and space.

You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of the mental image you had painted of him before you returned back to the ongoing conversation.

"The way he basically made me agree with him about taking grandma to the hospital? No Emma, that's not what a shy person would do" A defeated sigh came through the phone "That's true, but you said he was generally nice, right? He must have warmed up to you" And you would have agreed to that fully, if you didn't envision the deeply unsettling way Keisuke looked at you when you first met him. No matter how hard you tried to forget it, there was no redeeming from making you feel so small and helpless, even if you have started to trust him more. "Yes, but I still don't know him that well to understand him as a person" you explained, not wanting to paint him as a creep to Emma. It wasn't even a lie, you did not know the raven haired man well enough to form a solid opinion on him. A part of you really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, that he might have had a bad day, or that he might have a staring problem, but none of the explanations you or Emma would come up with felt right; there had to be something you haven't considered yet. "I guess I will have to just get to know him better" Emma chuckled as she heard your final conduct "Oh yeah, I'm sure you're dying to get to know him" Blood rushed to your face, scoffing and furrowing your eye brows at the blonde woman. "Oh shush! Quit it, will you?" huffing, you added "I do want to get to know him better, but this just isn't the time. I really only see him when my grandmother is around or when he is driving me to see her" a defeated sigh escaped from your lips "The only real conversation I had with him was when we discussed getting grandma into the hospital"

"Oh, I see" the teasing tone left Emma's voice, replaced by sympathy. "I hope you will be able to hang out with him alone more soon. Though, I feel like you could use the car ride to and from the hospital to get to know him better" You bit your lower lip at Emma's suggestion, not knowing if you would be able to converse with the ravenette. The last drive from the hospital to your grandmother's house was deafeningly quiet, no words being exchanged between the two of you whatsoever. You also didn't want to risk sounding awkward. What were good conversation starters to begin with? From what you remembered, he didn't like talking about academics and his university, and you refused to start asking him questions about his favorite animals and love for instant soba.

"I don't know Emma. We really don't have any shared interests I fear" Your free hand reached upwards to your neck instinctually, trying to get a hold on the silver necklace you would usually wear. Instead of the cool metal of the chain or cross, your fingers grasped into nothingness, reminding you of the disappearance of the necklace. Sitting up, you glanced around your bedroom, eyes scanning the room of any sight of the silver necklace while listening to your best friend's words of encouragement. "Well, you can't know for sure" the blonde interjected "You said it yourself: You two don't really talk a lot. Maybe if you make the first moves on him, you'll see that you two have more in common than you think. Don't give up just yet"

"But Em-" "No buts" Emma stopped you, her sweet voice morphing into one of authority. "I don't understand what you're so insecure about. You are by far the smartest and most hard working person I have ever met. You are funny and pretty and so caring" the blonde stated in a firm tone, a tone you understood to no be questioned by you. "If anyone has a chance with mister broody guy, it has to be you. It can only be you. So, please, have a little faith in yourself" you heard her pause before sighing into the speaker "Even in the very unlikely scenario things do not work out: His loss. He's not all that then" a smile bloomed on your lips as you listened to your friend finish speaking. This was why you loved Emma so dearly: The blonde woman knew exactly how to cheer you up and make you forget you forget about the severity of the situation. It was like Emma removed a blindfold you had put on by yourself -- whatever you were worrying about usually wasn't as big of a deal as you would originally think. In fact, you knew you had a habit of overthinking and overdramatizing smaller issues into bigger ones.

"You think it's very unlikely?" "I am so sure you will get him to open up to you that I am willing to bet on my whole shoe collection" your roommate replied confidently "Though, if it doesn't work out, I could set you up with one of my brother's friends" Emma added quieter this time, her voice turning more thoughtful. A playful scoff left your lips "Please do not. I appreciate your efforts, but I'd rather not go out with any of your brother's friends. And I still only want to get to know Keisuke as a friend"

"Whatever you say" Emma mused, her voice carying a hint of amusement. You were sure that if you were in the same room, you would see her looking at you with a knowing look and a teasing smile.

The conversation moved to different topics — which you were very grateful for; Emma talked about her own boyfriend, her brothers and the newest gossip about your neighbours. You listened intently to her chatter, occasionally throwing in your thoughts and reactions to especially juicy information. Despite Emma's rambles about her newest additions to her ever growing closet, you couldn't find yourself paying attention to her. Instead, you found your hand subconsciously wandering up your neck to grab your silver cross, only to grasp your skin yet again. Right, you must have misplaced the necklace last night. The reminder of your misplaced necklace was enough for your mind to shut out the blonde's excited chatter as a heavy feeling laid istelf on your chest, pressing onto your heart with the fear of knowing where you have left your necklace. You clenched your eyes shut and shook your head hard, your head and hair rubbing against your pillows so hard that the noises reached the speaker, and thus Emma's all hearing ear.

"Are you ok?" The blonde would ask, her voice laced with worry. "You have been awfully quiet. Are you even listening?"

"Yeah, been listening to you" you answered almost too quickly, not wanting to worry your blonde friend. "Though, I have to get ready soon. Keisuke will be here in n hour or so."

"Oh, I see how it is." The blonde woman chuckled on the other line "Yeah yeah, go make yourself look pretty for him." An awkward laugh escaped your lips at Emma's attempt of teasing you, not even bothering to correct her and instead playing along. You felt guilty over lying to Emma about having to get ready to meet up with Keisuke — he shouldn't show up for another two hours — but the sudden dissapearance of your necklace left you feeling anxious. As soon as you put the phone down, you stood up from your bed and looked through every drawer and cabinet, underneath the pillows and blankets, not leaving any corner of your bedroom untouched. You lifted the old and heavy mattress from the bedframe, your arms were shaking from the weight your muscles supported and the deep seating fear of having lost something precious.

You began to look through your closet, checking every pocket and bag you have brought with you. Instead of the silver necklace, you found pennies, pieces of paper with notes on them, and lint. Nothing of value, and definitely not what you were looking for. Your gaze wandered over to the chair facing your bed; the clothes you wore yesterday hanging on the wodden furniture. Hope bubbles up inside you as you approached the chair and picked up your jeans you had worn the previous day. I must have put my necklace inside the my pockets, you concluded, sticking your hands inside the pockets. Much to your surprise, you didn't find the silver necklace inside them, instead finidig the two flowers and the stones you had picked up from your grandmother's front yard the previous day. The flowers have wilted by the time you pulled them out, the once vibrant colors of the crocus being dulled by the lack of water, the soft patels of the being torn and mushed by the insides of your pockets. The stones looked just fine as one might suspect. You gave yourself a moment to ponder over your strange findings, still not being able to wrap your head around why anyone could have placed them by your grandmother's house. Your grandmother didn't really have neighbours around; the houses were build far and wide apart in that particular area, so you doubted anyone could have just walked by and decided to place stones and flowers at your grandmother's house. Besides what kind of gift is that?, you wondered, brows knitted and lips pressed together tightly. No matter how hard you thought about it, it didn't make much sense to you — you failed to see the significance of the items. In the end, you threw the flowers into the trash can and placed the stones on your night stand, as you decided that it wasn't as big of a deal as you made it to be.

Regardless to say, you could not find your necklace anywehere in your bedroom. Your search continued in other rooms. You walked out of your little safe haven right into the dark hallway, your feet walking the same path they walked the night prior when you had managed to escape the wolf's wrath. The mental image of the beast made you walk faster towards the bathroom, the eerie silence of the house filling you with dread and fear; a fear of being watched, a fear of being hunted after. Accidentally, you had slammed the door shut too hardshly, the sound of the slam echoing in your mind. Alerted of the sudden loud noise, your muscles tensed, you were ready to bolt out and run straight back into your bedroom, but you stayed, the hope of finding your necklace overpowering your survival instincts. It took you a while to start searching for the silver necklace again as you had a hard time calming down the thundering beat of your heart. "It is fine" you verbally repeated to yourself, seeking reassurance from yourself "It's not here. It won't get to you." You accompanied your affirmations with the breathing exercises you had learned back in freshman year of university when your course work would drive you on the brink of anxiety. Soon, you were able to drive away all the thoughts of the monstrosity in the forest away and continued the search. The cabinets were stacked with various cremes and pills your grandmother accumilated throughout the years, the sink seemed untouched, and the bath itself was sparsely decorated with just a shampoo and a body wash. You even checked the drains and bathroom floor, though you were out of luck. Your hands were gripping the opposite ends of the sink, your head was downcast, eyes shut tightly as you felt your hope of finding your necklace again shrink.

Talking yourself up was more difficult this time. It's not that bad, you thought to yourself, eyes still closed in an attempt to stop the tears from spilling. The necklace is probably in the kitchen. After all, you did spend some time there after the encounter. Stretching your back straight, you finally opened your eyes and were confronted withyour own reflection in the mirror hanging above the sink.Messy hair, red eyes and eyes bags, the you in the mirror looks more tired than you have ever been. You were sure that if you walked out without putting on a hefty amount of makeup, people would be able to tell that you have been chased by the wolf last night.

"Probably due to the scar as well." you muttered, eyes wandering to your injured arm. The cuts, while healing, still looked awful, mostly because you knew that they would leave behind thick, discolored lines on your skin that would remind you every morning and every evening of the traumatic chase. You reached out to lightly touch the wounds, careful not to probe at the crust too hard in order to not reopen them. A low hiss left your lips once your finger tips made contact with the surrounding skin, the pain shooting through your arm. You didn't know what it was that compelled you to touch the wound. Perhaps you needed to know it was real, perhaps you thought you might have dreamt of being clawed at by a giant wolf; whatever the subconcious thought process may have been, the stinging pain you felt in your arm brought you back to reality. No longer were you mentally trapped. So you pulled yourself together and exited the bathroom, making a mental note to shower and put on some makeup before you would have to meet up with Keisuke.

You didn't know if the ravenette would even take you seriously if you would tell him about your encounter with a wolf. He was a veterinary student, he knew animals far better than you did, so if you knew that wolves generally avoid humans, you were almost certain he would tell you the exact same thing. You haven't known him for long enough to be able to predict his reaction; not telling him seemed like the better idea instead of either risking him not believing you, and perhaps calling you crazy, or worrying for you.

Before you knew it, you had walked past your bedroom door. Steadily, determined, you walked down the stairs, not taking your time to look at the family portraits hanging on the wall like you usually would do, you made your way to the kitchen. As you arrived to the kitchen, you had to squint your eyes at the soft light shining through the wide windows. It took you a while, but your eyes eventually adjusted to the light flooded kitchen before you proceededyour search for your cross necklace.

Your grandmother's kitchen was big, probably the biggest area inside the house, which made it harder for you to decide where you wanted to start looking. A gentle purring distracted you from searching. Looking down at your feet, you found Marigold purring and rubbing her tiny head against your leg in an attempt to get your attention.

"I know sweet girl, you haven't had breakfast yet." You cooed at the cat, crouching down to pet her head. The feline closed her eyes in bliss, leaning into your touch affectionately and purring louder. You did promise grandma to take care of her, you thought amusedly before you stood up again and went to the cabinet, grabbing the familiar box containing cat food before pouring it inside Marigold's cat bowl, careful not to spill it.

The cat immediately started feasting on the little chunks inside her bowl, and all you could do was watch her eat before you continued your search. There was something so reassuring about Marigold showing up in the kitchen; rationally, you knew that she was there to be fed, but it still meant a lot to you that the feline was in the same room as you were, none the less the same place you two had found safety from the wolf. Your eyes soon wandered the kitchen floor, focusing on the dark foot prints on the white tiles. Kneeling down, your finger hesitantly glid over the surface, noting that the dirt had dried on the kitchen tiles overnight. You would have to sweep the floors after you find your necklace, that you were sure of.

The kitchen looked like a mess. The foot prints weren't your only problem, as you would see small debris, leaves, pieces of wood and the occasional blood splatter on the floor and the kichen counter, yet despite it all, you weren't able to find anything silver laying around. You debated on going through kitchen cabinets and even the trash bin, though you were sure you wouldn't have been near the cabinets nor the bin while you hid away in the kitchen. "If the necklace wasn't in the bedroom", your stomach churned, the heavy feeling in your chest returning. "And not in the bathroom, nor the kitchen", you lifted your head to look at the wooden back door of your grandmother's kitchen as you continued the thought, your heart ramming against your ribs, your breathing growing laboured. It had to be out in the forest.

You tore your gaze away from the door as if the sight made you physically hurt, eyes clenching shut. The encounter with the beast had left a mental scar you weren't sure it would ever heal, so much so you were sure you wouldn't be able to enter any forest comfortable alone ever again; the thought of you going back to continue your search made you feel sick. Your stomach began to to hurt as you remembered being pounced on by the wolf and laying underneath it, about to be eaten alive in a deep, dark forest with no one to save you from your gruesome fate. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes and breathy sobs escaped your mouth as you mentally revisited the events of the prior night. You knew you made it out alive just because you were lucky — there was no way you could survive a second encounter with the wolf, if that beast even was the worst beast roaming the forest. The way it tried to claw its way inside the house and the ominous way it looked back at the house when it retreated made you believe it was still out there, waiting for you to step outside. "This time it will get me", you whispered to yourself in between sobs "This time it will catch me".

The more you thought about the beast, the more you started to hurt; first, the ache in your stomach grew stronger, then the healing claw marks on your arm began to sting again as if they were being reopened. Your head felt light and you weren't able to think a single coherent thought except for the reaccuring "it will get me". Right before your body could shut down, something fuzzy collided with your knee time and time again, rubbing itself against your leg smoothly and purring softly as if to get your attention. Weakly, you lifted your head and saw Marigold by your side, rubbing her tiny body against your leg and bumping her head against you. You reached to wipe your tears away with one hand while the other pat Marigold's head shakily, your fingers combed through her bright orange fur, enticing louder purrs from her. The sounds the feline makes accompanied by her rubbing herself against your leg managed to gradually calm you down, all thoughts of the wolf slowly subsiding from your mind. Still, your panicked episode left you drained, so you remained sat on the dirty kitchen floor, patting and stroking Marigold until you found the strenght in your legs to stand up again.

"You are such a sweet little thing, Marigold", you whispered to her, your throat feeling dry. "Thank you so much for being here with me" picking the cat up, you sat her down on your lap to which Marigold happily cuddled up to you. She nestled herself on our thighs comfortably, her paws tucked under her body and eyes closed as she let you pet her. With a sound mind, you were ready to revisit the thought of your necklace possibly laying somewhere in the forest grounds. While the thought still made you feel sick, you were able to stop yourself from circling back to the beast that had attacked you; instead, you began to wonder if the necklace was even worth being retreated. Considering I don't know the exact location of the necklace it really could be anywhere, you thought to yourself, sighing as you remembered the stories your grandparents told you of the forest. They would always warn you about the forest, telling you to stay within their sight or else you would get lost in the dense crowd of trees and bushes. You know people have went missing in the forest; your grandparents would make it a point to tell you the chilling tales of disobedient children roaming the forest and never coming back as cautionary tales. It is a miracle I even found Marigold when I went inside the forest last night, your eyes wandered down to Marigold laying on your lap, peacefully sleeping and unaware of your internal dilemma. The more you looked at the sleeping cat, the more you realized just how lucky you were in general; from finding Marigold, to somehow outrunning the wolf and escaping the deathly bite of the monster, you were incredibly to have it made out with minor wounds.

Perhaps the realization should have been your sign to stay away from the forest, that losing your necklace was a far better price to pay than your own life and Marigold's for even stepping inside the forest at night, but you wouldn't take the sign; not when your necklace had a sentimental value to you that not even pure gold could compare to. Your mother had gifted you the silver cross necklace years ago as a symbol of protection, as a symbol of her everlasting love to you and quite frankly, you weren't ready to make peace with your loss just yet. So you started weighing your options. Obviously, you wouldn't go back at night, that you were sure of. Besides the fear of encountering the wolf again lingering in your mind, the prospects of finding your way back to your grandmother's house appeared grim. The darkness and the vast expansion of the forest would lead you astray; you would get lost very easily.

"Maybe if I just go while it's still during the day?", you muttered to yourself, finiding sense in your relatively easy solution. "Besides, I wasn't in the forest that long last night. My neclace should be somewhere near the clearing", you concluded finally. You doubted you would find any strange animals during the day, let alone the wolf. It was worth a shot, you figured. With that, your plan stood; you would visit your grandmother at the hospital, but inform her about having to do something around the house and Keisuke to drive you back home. Speaking of him, your eyes wandered up to the back door of the kitchen, wondering if you should ask him to accompany you to the forest. While it would bring you peace knowing you were't alone in the forest searching for a necklace, you weren't sure how you would explain to him how you even lost it in the first place. Asking the ravenette for help meant having to explain your search for Marigold and it meant telling him of the wolf. Shaking your head, you rejected the idea of involving him in your search as soon as you started imagining his face, the sharpness of his eyes and the words he would be throwing at you making you reconsider. Besides, Keisuke might talk you out of searching for the necklace as well. Seeing as he grew up in the village, he must know of the dangers lurking in the densly grown forest. He's not going to let me go back there, you eventually concluded, remembering his proise to your grandmother to keep you safe. Your mind was made up about going back to the forest; for the remainder of the day, you would use the time to mentally prepare yourself for the big search.

Marigold, seemingly sensing that you were feeling much better, opened her eyes and hopped off your lap, stretching her small body and letting out a long yet silent yawn before she made her way to the back door. You watched the feline scratch the door before heading outside through the cat door. Rolling your eyes and chuckling, you couldn't help but wonder if Marigold even had a semblance of survival instincts. You had assumed she was just as traumatized as you were by the encounter last night, but as it appeared, the orange feline was more than comfortable stepping outside the house -- or at least, more comfortable than you were. Though, you were hoping she wasn't heading straight back to the forest and instead enjoying the rare Winter sun on her fur.

As you continued to stare at the door, you couldn't help but think back to the events from the prior night. The wolf was chasing after you, hellbent on getting to you first before you could save yourself from his deadly claws and sharp fangs, but much to its dismay, you were able to run back into the house and slam the door at its face. You remembered the sounds of its claws against the wodden, like knives piercing through the wood and dragging along the hard surface. It would be a miracle if the door was looking presentable, though you were sure by the way the wolf tried its hardest to get inside, that the door alone had gotten roughed up. You knew that if you really didn't want anyone to know of this incident, you might have to have a new door isntalled that looked just like the old one, though, you hoped the damage wasn't that bad.

Finally, you stood up from your sitting position on the cold and dirty tiles of the kitchen floor. Your hands brushed over your legs in an attempt to get the dirt particles off yourself. The ticking of the clock caught your attention, and you dared to take a quick look at the clock to see how much time you had before eeting up with Keisuke. 35 minutes until he would come pick you up; there was no way you could clean up the kitchen and get yourself to look presentable to him in such a short time frame. Still, your gut instinct told you to have a look at he door from the outside just before you could head upstairs to your bedroom to get ready. You made your way to the door and twisted the doorknob before pushing the door open. Outside, the sun had already risen, enveloping the backyard of your grandmother's house in a soft light. A chilly breeze blew past you as you stepped outside the house; the cold air of early Spring grazed your skin, leaving you to shiver and goosebumps forming on your skin, as you were still just wearing your short, light nightgown. It was peaceful and quiet, the silence only being broken by the occaisonal bird singing and twittering. Soon, your grandmother's dull garden would house more than just a handful of snowdrops — rows of tulips would bloom when the sun would shine for longer, and lush roses would bloom from the bushes your grandmother and grandfather have planted and maintained over the years as soon as Summer would arrive. More birds would come back, bees, bumblebees and butterflies woukd reign over the garden, dancing in the air to the orchestra of he birds's singing. Oh, how you have longed for Spring to banish the darkness and cold Winter had brough on you.

Closing your eyes, you already saw the mental image of the backyard and garden greener and more vibrant. Stepping forward, you could imagine the warmth of the sun hitting your skin, the scent of fresh flowers coursing through the air and the feeling of soft grass beneath your feet — the latter beig hard to imagine, as you stepped into a cold puddle. The serene fantasy mophed into reality, the strong scent of iron hitting your nose. You were confused by the strange sensations and opened your eyes promptly. A horrifying scene unfolded before your eyes as you opened them — just a few feet away from you laid a large stag on the ground, its mighty antlers still on its head, though you noticed holes and cuts on them, small pieces seemed to be missing from them as well. It laid on its side, its lifeless eyes staring directly at you. They weren't what you paid attention though, the large wound on its neck and the several deep cuts on its body alarmed you. The crimson tainted the rich brown of the stags fur and trickled down on the dry ground, painting the dark brown earth and the sparse grass in a deep, dark red. Your eyes followed the forming puddle back to your feet, only to discover you had been standing in a blood puddle. Chills ran down your spine and the familiar feeling of nausea returned to your stomach at the sight in front of you. You remained silent, but you really didn't want to be. You wanted to scream, to cry, to puke in disgust and fear, but not a sigle sound has left your throat. Instead, you backed away from the puddle and the dead stag, its eyes following you as you hurried back inside the house with Marigold following suit. You might have not investigated the door from the outside, but seeing the deep cuts on the stag's torso was enough for you to understand two things — that you have to replace the door and perhaps even upgrade it to something more sturdier, and that you could no longer stay in your grandmother's village.

[kraniumet]

traditional rendering truly is not for me it drives me crazy. give me realtime now and any day

[erwinsvow]

soft-spoken but bright shy reader who loves day shift. she can hide behind the scenes, take her time with the waiting room patients while letting the other residents duke it out for the more urgent, trauma cases that roll in. her skills aren’t rusty but she just prefers a different approach, still in love with the quickness and urgency of the er but not in the right mind set for the competition and favoritism. but after pitt-fest she really can’t look at day shift the same again. becomes even quieter, even more withdrawn, flinches at every noise and not defending herself when the occasional patient chews her out for taking too long.

it’s not good for you. not sustainable. robby thinks the solution is to give you a change of scenery. asks if you’d want to give night shift a try for a week or two. it’s quieter—though he makes sure to mouth that word instead of actually saying it—and in a twisted way, a little more balanced. it actually calms down eventually, gets into a lull where you can catch up on notes and eat granola bars while the place fills with some snores. you can’t lie, it does sound pretty appealing. so you take a chance and switch with some other resident who grumbles something about finally being able to get some sleep. but you’re not phased. maybe this is what you need.

you know the night shift. you thought you knew them well, but it turns out you just know them regular. you’ve interacted during trade offs, those group bonding activities they really try to push every other month, and throughout little stories during the day, reports of something funny or crazy that happened during the hours of the infamous night shift. but actually being one of them takes you a little by surprise.

shen has a secret drawer of snacks in central. underneath the handle there's a label that says something inconspicuous, and even then, the food is hidden under a stack of papers and a box of pens. your second night he shows you the hiding spot, so you don't have to run to your locker for your protein bar like yesterday. ellis is the one you reminds you not to get sloppy just because it's late. you don't know how she can tell, but your body hasn't really adjusted yet. you got a few hours of sleep but the sun was really bright and the dark grey curtains that had always been sufficiently dark were suddenly not. she's the one who airdrops you the link to proper black-out curtains, standing somewhere across the room when you look up to thank her, giving you a nod.

but you're still deciding if this is really better for you. it's hard to leave the routine you've known for almost two years and expect a decision overnight, even though you do expect it.

at the end of your first week, the curtains have been delivered and you're sleeping a lot more soundly. from seven to ten you handle the overflow from the chairs until it's more or less settled. you're never really going to catch up, but there's more movement some nights than others. you report your orders to ellis, make sure to debrief shen every hour on the status of your beds. the charge nurse tells you who next up and where to take them, and you do, no cherry-picking allowed. it might be a fraction less busy, but it just seems a little more organized, more managable. you might be able to see yourself here for a little longer.

and of course, he doesn't help matters. dr. abbot. shen and ellis and the other handful of residents keep the place running but dr. jack abbot is what keeps all of you running. you knew that robby had told him something about you, something about how you need an eye on you for now, that you're not acting like yourself. you know this because abbot checks in on you no less than once every two hours, more if you're swarmed.

you didn't think he'd be interested in hearing about the allergic reaction in bed eight or the sprained wrist in six, but he does. watches you with that gaze from across the room, observing, noticing. you don't know exactly what, but you hope it's good. he stays a couple steps behind you for some of the first few shifts. when you closes the curtain and move too quickly, you've even bumped into him, not realizing how close he was. you stammer out an apology while his hand is on your shoulder, steadying you from losing any more of your balance.

"doin' okay, kid?" he asks, and you hope the heat on your face isn't as visible to him as it feels to you.

"y-yeah. i'm good. sorry-"

he settles down eventually. then there's the other things.

a hot cup of coffee at nine-thirty, closer to the ending half of one of the bigger rushes. you're getting your bearings, yawning at the screen while you type out some orders. he just sets it in front of you and walks away, doesn't even stay long enough to hear your thank you. (but he does hear it, and walks away from you smiling. not that you could see it.)

tea closer to one in the morning. you could try to get sleep but that's pretty impossible, and you think mostly frowned upon. the day shift doesn't get to sleep, so it'd be unfair if you snuck off for a nap. and besides, the er never really quiets down that much—there's always some car accident or late-night injury while making dessert. the middle of the night is a haven for falls—in the hallway on the way to the bathroom, getting out of the car in the dark, missing a step in a sleepy state.

so tea. energy drinks aren't really your thing, but english breakfast or earl grey has just enough caffeine to get you through to another hot cup of coffee around four or five. but somehow, without you ever telling abbot how you take your coffee and tea, he's figured it out. each cup is always perfect, always exactly what you needed.

the silly girl inside you thinks it's so sweet. your attending is so caring, so attentive to everyone on his night shift. you hear him take over for shen when he's had four or five back to back, interrupting ellis before she takes on another, instructing her to go take five minutes and that he'll deal with it.

and now you're one of them, and you get cups of coffee and tea, gentle encouragement with nods from across the room, asking you questions throughout so you don't feel like you're missing anything from the day shift. he's even gotten you to trend to incoming traumas with him. at first you'd tried what worked during the day—letting the others fight for it, but it's not like that past a certain time. in fact, shen and ellis think you should take all the incoming traumas, get more experience that way.

"incoming," jack says, and you look up at him, and then around to see if you can find who he's talking to. there's no one else but you and the nurses. "with me, kid, let's go."

shit. you follow his lead, not exactly sure how to tell him that this isn't the part of the job that you're perfect at. you're better with patients who are awake and alert, families that want answers, people that need things explained to them with patience.

"you sure you don't want someone else to assist? i'm-i'm not-"

"i want you to assist," he says, handing you a gown and then pulling one on himself. "turn," and you comply immediately. he ties the neck and back for you, and then you tie his. you reach for gloves but he's already pulled ones in your size.

the paramedics roll in, rattling off a long list of things that you try to organize in your mind. the patient is groaning and bloody, shirt ripped in half and mumbling something you can't make out from over the oxygen mask. you realize the last time you'd really been forced to deal with incoming traumas was the day of the shooting, and your mind wanders briefly. what if he liked this shirt? where is his family at? it's two in the morning, they're probably sound asleep, about to wake up to the worst news in the world if you don't get it together and save him.

"hey," you hear jack's voice over the milion other noises in the room. it's grounding. it whips you into shape, answering his questions and ordering scans and drugs and not stopping until his heart is stable and surgery is aware that he's coming.

outside of the trauma room, you rip off the bloody gown and gloves. when you turn to confront jack, he's already right behind you, the two of you almost colliding.

"i'm so sorry. i-i don't know what happens in there, i just, i freeze, and-"

you feel a hand guiding you, hovering over your lower back. so warm that you can almost feel the heat radiating from him. he takes you into a quiet, empty little corner and doesn't start talking until you meet his eyes.

"what you went through, it's not nothing. it's scary for all of us, but especially if it's the first time."

"i've been here two years. it's not the first time. i shouldn't be reacting like this."

"and if this was happening to me, would you tell me that i was overreacting? hm?" the way he asks the question and the way his eyes don't leave yours makes your face feel warm again. "there's nothing wrong with needing to ease yourself back into it. i'm not gonna lose it if you can't answer every question. no one's judging you for needing a minute to get started. but if you don't stop judging yourself, you'll never get better. and i need you to get better, okay? the whole night shift does."

you nod, coming to terms with what he said. and for the first time in a long time, you do feel better. the patient's fine. jack's fine. you're fine.

until one day, he refills your water bottle for you. cold water, a little bit of ice but not too much. the bottle is easter yellow, the brightest thing at the desks at central, and it looks weird in your attending's hands.

"oh," you get out, a little softly. it's two in the morning, and your tea is almost empty, but you might need another cup. you're not alert enough to notice that your bottle even went missing. maybe fifteen minutes ago, you tried to take a sip but it was empty. your eyes flick between the yellow of your bottle and the brown of jack's eyes for a moment, brain not functioning. "thank you."

"no problem," he says, walking away before you can even process what happened. besides you, the nurses try to conceal their laugh. across from you, you see ellis and shen whispering to each other, but you can't put two and two together.

"is everything okay?" you call out to them. they make their way over, leaning against the counter while stretching. when you look next to you again, the nurses are gone.

"yeah," ellis starts. "it's nothing-" you interrupt.

"-what? did i do something-" those little fears creep their way in, starting at the back of your neck, spreading like ice water throughout you. it seems stupid, but you've always been anxious, and sometimes your field helps you stop being anxious, and instead puts you in go-mode. it's what you used to like about the day shift. so much to do, there's not enough time to sit and think about what everyone else is doing and thinking all the time. but night shift is just a smidge different.

"no-"

"really, it's nothing-"

"-it's just that he's never filled my water-"

"-or gotten me coffee-"

"-i don't even think he knows what my water bottle looks like-"

"-and he's definitely never asked me if i drink tea-"

"oh."

oh.

[maghendearey]

I’m begging you please write something for dad!Lando Norris maybe he is streaming with Max f and y/n walks in with their kid and lando just goes from game raging to being the softest person ever

I love this idea so much and am so excited to put it into action. Sorry if it took a while. If any of you have any ideas, my requests are open.

Baby days

Masterlist

:in which Lando decided to stream on one evening and ends up cuddling with the children

triggerwarnings:none

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Since Lando was little, he only wanted a few things, to find a best friend: which came in the form of Max, to get into F1: he managed in the year 2019 and to win a world championship: he hadn't done that yet but was well on his way.

What wasn't on his plan, however, was you, when you broke down on the side of the road with your car problem and he stopped because you were somewhere in the mountains and he wasn't going to leave you there overnight without any help. What wasn't on his plan, however, was your beautiful smile and your sense of humor which was so bad it made everyone in the room laugh. What wasn't on his plan was that he would make you his girlfriend, that you would get on really well with his family and that Max, his best friend, would soon be like a brother to you. And what was least on the agenda was that at the age of 23 you would become a father to a little girl, Maja, and at the age of 25 you would become a father for the second time, in this case to a little boy, Oliver-Max.

He didn't quit F1 and to be honest, you didn't want him to either. You loved him and what the sport meant to him. And even though that meant he wasn't home a lot, the time he was there he was completely there for you and the little ones. He loved them and he loved you too, madly. He would die for the three of you in seconds if he had to. And even when he was home today, you had allowed him to stream on the computer with his friends; it was good for him to switch off and besides, Oliver, who really was the cutest baby, was already asleep on your chest. And Maja was watching Cars. You thought that film was weak but she had inherited her weakness for F1 from her father. Although she couldn't do anything with a go-kart yet because her little feet couldn't reach the pedals, you still knew that one day she would be a really good driver.

You left Maja alone in her room for a moment, the tablet in her little hand, and the film still playing, to put Oliver to bed. As you walked past Lando's streaming room with the baby in your arms, you heard him cursing loudly. You didn't really mind, but if he was that loud, it would wake Oliver up. So you knocked gently on the door before pushing down the doorknob. When he didn't answer, but presumably didn't hear you, you pushed down the doorknob and went in with the baby. Lando was wearing headphones, so he couldn't hear you. You stepped behind him and gently tapped his shoulder, which made him flinch. He took off his headphones and looked up at me, his smile changing from professional to loving in an instant. "My baby," he said, taking your son from your arms. You knew that "my baby" meant not just him but you too, because he didn't just take the baby from your arms. but also pulled you onto his lap. Your little boy pointed with his fingers at the screen, which your gaze also wandered to. There was not only the game but also Max, who was smiling brightly at you. "Hey, how are you?" Max asked, whom you could clearly hear through the headphones that were now on Lando's shoulder. It was difficult to concentrate because Lando's head was tucked into your neck and his lips were on your baby's forehead. "I'm fine, Max." You were just about to ask, but before you could, you heard the little footsteps running down the hallway and into your room with Lando. She must have heard Max's voice, because the one thing she loved besides F1 was definitely Max. But before she could do anything, you pulled Maja onto your lap.

Shortly after, Lando ended the stream; he wanted time with you. He wanted to kiss you, hold you, and spend the evening with you, Maja, and Oliver, with lots and lots of cuddles.

You didn't care about anything. You didn't care that you only got to bed in the middle of the night today, you didn't care that you'd both be overtired tomorrow. And you also didn't care that the photos from the stream would be all over the internet tomorrow. Because no matter what you were like, you were together. Totally in love and more than happy with everything you had and will have forever.

I hope you liked it and I was able to implement your idea. I wish you all a nice day.

Love you all 💋

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Early 20th Century Trains

Trains were a popular means of transportation during the early 20th century. The previous decades saw to the explosion of more trains, more services and more tracks linking country communities which were isolated from cities and larger towns. So what do we need to know about trains in the early 20th century?

Typical layout

A basic layout of a train is as follows: passenger compartments, dining cars, luggage and guard vans.

Compartments: Compartments are where the passengers sat. They were divided between three classes – first, second, third. First class compartments were the most expensive. The seats were upholstered, and the floors were often carpeted. They were much larger than the other class compartments. They would be fitted with gas light like the rest of the train, the windows would have curtains, and the walls would often be panelled with wood. Second class compartments were less luxurious but pretty much the same as the first class only smaller and less grand. Third class would feature wooden benches or seats fitted with cushions or fabric, they were smaller and often more crowded. Compartments could be offered as corridor compartments which offered more movement between compartments and cars. Compartments would offer seating areas and areas to store hand luggage. Some trains travelling overnight would offer sleeper cars which offered beds and an area to wash.

Dining Cars: Dining cars were offered on some trains. There would be tables for the passengers to eat and get something to drink. Dining cars were usually offered only to certain classes or segregated by class.

Luggage Cars: Where large luggage would be stored.

Guard Vans: Where railway security staff could get warm. It also held a stove and hand-operated brakes which the designated guard would use to slow the train if needed.

Separation

Trains in this era were divided by class and in some case race. Unlike the American states and South Africa where there were laws preventing certain races from mixing with others or from using any class other than third class, Europe was a little more forgiving in the case of race. However, this is not to say there was no segregation. This was Europe at the height of the age of Empire. People who hailed from the ‘colonies’ were discriminated through subtler means than simple prevention, they would be discouraged from attempting to use the upper class tickets and sometimes they were even treated not as well as other passengers. Class was the main division on the train. First class of course had more ability to move, more access to amenities. They often had separate dining cars where they could sit down to full meals. Larger trains might even offer some other common areas such as smoking compartments. Second class were sometimes permitted to dine in the dining cars but may not have been allowed access to full meals. Third class was not permitted access to the dining cars, often having to bring along meals or buy food at the station before departure. The classes were not allowed to mingle. In cases of a first-class person travelling with a servant, they had the choice to either purchase a first-class ticket for their servant or leave them in third class.

Train and Station Staff

Trains did not run by themselves. The passengers and the train had many needs and there had to be an army of staff available to keep things chugging along *hehe*. That being said, the train staff weren’t the only people who kept things going smoothly, the station staff at each stop would also help out the staff and the passengers.

On the Train:

Drivers: These were the people who drove the train.

Firemen: These were the people who shovelled coal and kept an eye on the steam pressure.

Guards: The guards were there to keep the passengers safe. They sometimes checked tickets and would patrol the luggage cars, mainly to keep an out for anybody sneaking onto the trains without a ticket.

Conductors: Conductors would go from car to car to check tickets, collected any outstanding fares and kept an eye on things in the compartments.

Engineers: Would travel on the train to help out with repairs on the train.

Dining car staff: Such as maids to serve tea and coffee, waiters to serve food and if the train is large enough, kitchen staff and bartenders.

The Station:

Station Masters: Was the person in charge of the station, overseeing the flow of trains and passengers through the station.

Porters: Handled the luggage.

Signalmen: Oversaw the signals to keep the trains on track *hehe*.

Parts of the train

The train is a beast of many parts. A train in this era is a steam train, which links of cars connected together behind a steam engine.

Buffers & Buffing Gear: These are the parts of the train built in to absorb impact.

Cars: The segments of the train.

Couplers: This is what connects the train cars together.

Cowcatcher/Pilot: This is the frame that sits at the very front of the train used to clear things off the track.

Carriages: These are the cars that the passenger compartments are.

Headlamp: This is the light at the front used to improve visibility.

Freight Cars: Used for transporting goods.

Locomotive: This is the train’s engine. It is the driving force of the train, where the driver and the firemen would work.

Truck: The framework that connects the axles to the wheels.

Smokebox: Where the exhaust system of the stream engine is housed.

[no-144444]

I'm alright- k.antonelli

꩜summary: kimi gets in a crash. you get a fright

꩜pairing: andrea kimi antonelli x fem! reader

꩜warnings: mentions of crashes, injuries, etc. but he's fine dw.

꩜a/n: this is for the few people that just requested more kimi fluff so... here you go!

꩜borders: brozewasp

Your breath was taken away from you in a matter of moments, Kimi crashed. Badly too. He flipped and rolled and you just had to look away, hiding your face in your hand as you covered Maggie’s eyes with your other. You saw his parents flinch. You heard the stillness of the garage. 

“Is he okay?” Maggie's small voice made its way to your ears. You could hear everything going on with him and Bono. He’d asked him if he was okay 4 times, and still got no answer. 

“He will be,” you reassured her as she clung to you, his parents running to the pitwall to speak to Bono. 

You heard a breath, the breathing you knew so well from when he’d lie behind you in bed, or sit as close to you as he could. You could breathe again when he finally answered. 

“He said he’s ok,” you relayed back to Maggie. “He’s going to need a check-up though, so me and you are going to go back to the hotel while your parents wait for him, alright?” you explained already texting his parents your plan. One of them could ride in the ambulance with him, one could drive behind it, you’d take care of Maggie until Kimi was cleared. 

꩜꩜꩜

You put Maggie down to sleep at 9pm, just after her parents called to tell her they were on their way back. You sat with her until her parents walked in. Marco walked towards you as you smiled softly, the day getting to you. He didn’t speak. He just pulled you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For caring for my family like you do.”

You could’ve cried, but you were stronger than that. You smiled at him. “It’s only because I love you guys,” you shrugged, then hugged his mom before leaving to go back to your room. You had no idea if Kimi was back at the hotel, or if he was in hospital overnight. Either way, you’d definitely see him tomorrow. Now, you needed some rest. 

You opened the door to your hotel room and walked straight into the bathroom, headphones in. You washed your face, washing the day off. You brushed your teeth. You tried desperately to ignore Kimi’s things on the counter. You couldn’t. He should be there. He should be in your arms, happy about the fact that he was in F1. He hadn’t really gotten to the stage where he was so disillusioned with his situation that all he cared about was points and placing, and you adored it. After every race he had something to be proud of, and he’d spend at least an hour talking your ear off about it. You just kept thinking it must be bad if they’re keeping him overnight. Did he have a bad concussion? Broken limbs? A fucking brain bleed?  You weren’t going to push his parents on telling you what happened, especially considering how exhausted they were, but curiosity was eating away at you. 

“You alright?” his voice rang out in the hotel room, and you swore it was just your mind playing tricks on you, but you had to check. You ran out of the bathroom and found Kimi lying on your shared bed. He saw how your eyes-widened and your breath caught in your throat. He knew you would cry, and he just felt worse about worrying you all. “I’m ok,” he nodded, taking your hand and pulling you close to him. You stopped just beside his side of the bed, halting and dropping his hand, wiping away whatever tears had already fallen. “I’m ok, angelo, I promise,” he whispered, running his hand up and down your waist soothingly. 

“Kimi,” your voice cracked. You never really called him Kimi, not when you two were on your own. It was always Kim, or love, or baby, or, just to annoy him- mouse. Never Kimi. His grip on your waist tightened and he brought you closer to him, trying to get you to sit down. You pulled your hands away from your face, you’d stopped actively crying, but he could see more tears forming. 

“Sit down, carissima,” he whispered, and you did as he asked. You sat beside him, and immediately, his hands were on you. He remembered how you felt after one of his bad F2 or F3 crashes. He remembered you needed to touch him to prove he was alright. You needed to see him be… Kimi to know he was fine. “I’m alright,” he whispered, taking your hand and placing it over his heart. “I’m right here.”

God, you could’ve sobbed. Feeling his heartbeat, feeling his skin under your skin again. Hearing his voice. Seeing him here, in your bed. You nodded, blinking back more tears. “W-what happened?” you asked. “A-at the hospital.”

“They checked me out, said I have a very minor concussion, and just gave me some warnings,” he explained. “But they ran every test they could- thanks to Toto,” he rolled his eyes, thinking of the amount of shit he had to do. “So that’s why it took so long.” 

You nodded, eyes fixed on nothing in specific, but just… him. “Yeah,” you breathed out. He used his other hand to wipe the tears that were falling away. 

“So I’m good now, yeah?” he smiled softly. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, your eyes snapping back to his. “You’re ok.”

“Exactly,” he smiled. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then he leaned back. “Bedtime?” 

You chuckled, wiping away your tears. “Yeah, let me just get changed.” 

“Feel free,” he winked at you and you rolled your eyes. A major crash and he was still flirting with you like he was 14 again.  But then again, that’s what made this all feel… normal again. He was still Kimi, your Kimi.

navigation for my blog :)

mercedes & williams masterlist

[hanniebaeee]

The Runaway(s)

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Summary: You run away from your husband to save his life. But your husband isn't exactly the type to let go.

a/n: Very short, but I had a dream. Blond Jinnie glaring at me. And I thought, why not. Trying to get off my writer's block.

The rhythmic clatter of the overnight train filled the silence as you sat curled up in your seat. It was dark, and your carriage was nearly empty. But your heart pounded, not just because of the creepy ambience, but at the thought of who you were running from.

Hyunjin.

Your husband. The man you had defied your father for, and had married in a whirlwind wedding. It was a dream. It was perfect. 

But now, you were leaving him. Because if you didn’t, your father, the most ruthless man you know, would make sure your husband didn’t live long enough to see your anniversary. Not that you underestimated your husband. 

You definitely knew he was capable of more than he let you know. But that wasn't a risk you were willing to take.

The overhead lights flickered. They had been all night, but just then, it felt way too ominous. Dramatic even. You had been gazing out the window into the pitch black night, your heart aching at the thought of Hyunjin.

A sudden movement at the end of the carriage had you looking up. And your breath caught in your throat.

No. No, no, no.

The figure stalked towards you, broad shoulders swaying with confidence, his long black coat billowing behind him. The dim lighting barely cast light on his features - but you knew.

You knew that silhouette. You knew that walk. 

Hyunjin.

You swore under your breath, running a hand down your face. 

"You know," his voice came smooth as silk, teasing, "for someone so determined to run, you really should’ve picked a better mode of escape.”

You swallowed. Hard.

"How did you -"

He tsked, tilting his head, golden hair catching the dim light like a halo. A very menacing halo.

"Sweetheart, did you really think I wouldn’t have someone watching you?" He asked. 

Okay, fair.

"You need to leave," you whispered urgently. "My father -"

"Is an old tantrum-thrower with a gun collection," Hyunjin drawled, closing the distance between you. "So, what? You think disappearing is going to stop him?"

You stared at him in silence. 

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched, and then, with a slow, knowing smirk, he murmured, "Ah baby. That’s not the only thing you were keeping from me, is it?"

Your stomach flipped. Your hands instinctively pressed to your lower abdomen.

Damn it. How the hell did he even know?

Hyunjin's gaze darkened, but not with the fury you expected. No, this was something else entirely. His lips parted slightly, as if suddenly breathless, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"So I'm right," he whispered, almost in awe. “You're pregnant.”

"Hyunjin-" Your throat tightened. 

"You -" His voice cracked. Cracked. "Are having my baby."

The terrifying, merciless mafia boss knelt in front of you right there in the dimly lit train, pressing a hand  against your stomach like he was touching something holy.

You had expected rage. Fury. Some kind of dramatic, chair-throwing, wall-punching response. Instead, you got a very emotionally fragile mafia lord looking like he just melted into a puddle.

His hands came up to cradle your face, his eyes wild, voice urgent.

"You ran. With my baby inside you. You left me. With my baby inside you." He sounded like he was going to punch a hole in the window. 

"I was protecting you -"

"I don’t need protection, you do," he snapped, but then his brows furrowed, and his bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. "God, I missed you. I was going to kill you, but now I can’t because you’re growing my spawn."

"Hyunjin, I swear -" You groaned. Right. Hyunjin killing you would be the biggest joke of the century.

"Does this mean I can’t stress you out? Will that affect the baby?" He grabbed your hands, placing them firmly against his chest. "Quick, feel my heartbeat. Is it too erratic? Is it distressing for the baby? Are you eating enough? Did you eat dinner?"

“Hyunjin, calm down.” you said, your hand still pressed against his chest, his heart pounding heavily against it. 

"You ran from me while pregnant. That's so offensive babe. I should be taking care of you, feeding you, rubbing your feet. Giving you baths." He ranted. 

You sighed, shoving at his chest lightly. But he didn’t budge. His lips curled into a slow, lazy smirk, that sharp edge of danger creeping back in.

"Are you done?" you deadpanned.

"Almost." Hyunjin hummed. 

And then, before you could react, he leaned in, his lips pressing against yours, stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs.

He tasted like power. And devotion. And the promise of a man who would burn the entire world to the ground before letting anything happen to you.

When he pulled back, his thumb brushed your swollen lips, eyes glittering with mischief.

"You’re never running from me again, sweetheart," he murmured. "You can try. But at the end of the day?" His lips ghosted over yours once more. "You’re mine."

You exhaled shakily, and said, "Possessive much?"

Hyunjin only grinned. "Oh, absolutely."

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120

[heliosunny]

GRAVITY IN CHAINS

YANDERE!CALEB X READER

In the endless void of space, there was no one to hear you scream.

The ship was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made your ears ring, amplifying the soft hum of the engines and the uneven rhythm of your breathing. Caleb was in the cockpit, as always, quietly steering the ship through the vast nothingness. You’d spent the last hour pacing the narrow corridors, your heart pounding with an idea so desperate it almost felt reckless. You had to run. You didn’t know how yet, but the thought consumed you, a glimmer of hope in an otherwise hopeless existence.

But as you paced, fragments of Caleb’s voice replayed in your head—his confessions, his fears, and the memories he used to justify his obsession.

-Years Ago-

Caleb wasn’t always this man. He had been soft, fragile in ways he hid from everyone but you. He was the boy who held your hand too tightly when the storms rolled in, the one who always made sure you were walking on the safer side of the road. His protectiveness had always been there, but it was sweet and tender, not the overwhelming force it had become.

You remembered the day his world shifted.

You were barely teenagers, sitting in the small library of your hometown. Caleb was absorbed in a book about the stars, his eyes alight with curiosity. “One day, I’ll take you there.” he’d said, tracing the image of a nebula with his finger.

You’d laughed, teasing him about his wild dreams. “And what would we do in space, Caleb? Float around and count stars?”

He grinned, so carefree it almost hurt to remember. “No, I’ll keep you safe. Out there, no one can touch us. We’d have everything we need.”

But that dream was born from something deeper, darker. Caleb had lost his family young. His parents were killed in an accident that left him orphaned and alone. You were the only constant in his life, the one person he clung to when the world felt too cruel.

“Everyone leaves,” he’d whispered to you once, years later. You’d been sitting under the oak tree after a particularly bad fight he’d had with one of his guardians “but not you. You’d never leave me, right?”

You had promised, naive and sincere. You’d held his hand and swore you’d always be by his side. You didn’t know then what that promise would mean, how tightly he’d cling to it when the two of you finally left that little town behind.

-Now-

You stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, the weight of those memories pressing down on you. Caleb hadn’t changed overnight. It had been a slow unraveling, his love for you twisting into something suffocating. You thought back to the first time you’d realized how far he’d fallen.

It was months ago, on a crowded space station. You’d been talking to a merchant about supplies when Caleb appeared behind you, his presence almost tangible. He’d glared at the merchant with such intensity that the man had stammered out an apology for no reason at all.

Later, when you’d confronted Caleb about it, he’d brushed it off. “He was looking at you like he thought he had a chance” he’d said, his tone calm but his eyes cold.

It was then you realized how deep his obsession ran. He wasn’t protecting you anymore—he was controlling you.

And now, as you stood in the corridor of his ship, you knew you had to escape.

Your plan was simple, born from desperation. The ship had a small emergency shuttle, meant for short-range travel. It wasn’t much, but it was your only chance. You waited until Caleb disappeared into the maintenance bay, then quietly made your way to the shuttle.

Your hands trembled as you powered it on, the soft hum of the engine filling the small space. You were almost there, almost free—

The door hissed open behind you.

“Going somewhere?” Caleb’s voice was calm, but you could hear the crack in it, the pain he was barely suppressing.

You turned to face him, your heart hammering in your chest. He stood in the doorway, his face pale and drawn. And then you saw it—the blood staining his side, seeping through his shirt.

Your breath caught. “Caleb, what—what did you do?”

He swayed slightly, one hand clutching his side. “I had to stop you,” he said softly. “I couldn’t let you leave me. I’d rather…” He trailed off, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor.

You froze, torn between your instinct to run and the overwhelming guilt clawing at your chest. You hated him for what he’d become, but seeing him like this—broken, bleeding—it was too much.

“Dammit, Caleb,” you muttered, rushing to his side. You knelt beside him, pressing your hands against the wound to stop the bleeding. “Why would you do this? Why would you hurt yourself like this?”

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at you with a faint smile. “Because I knew… you’d come back. You always do.”

Your throat tightened, tears blurring your vision. “You’re insane...” you whispered.

“Maybe,” he murmured, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “But I’d do it again if it meant keeping you with me.”

You stayed. You had no choice.

As you worked to bandage his wound, Caleb watched you with a quiet satisfaction, knowing he’d won. The escape shuttle sat unused, its engines silent, as you remained by his side—trapped by love, by guilt, by the weight of your shared past.

------

Caleb recovered faster than you thought he would. His determination to keep you close seemed to outweigh the severity of the wound, but it bought you time. While he rested and healed, you plotted your next escape.

This time, you wouldn’t make the same mistake. You wouldn’t let him catch you mid-flight, wouldn’t hesitate when the moment came. Caleb’s possessiveness had reached a level that terrified you, but you still believed deep down that some part of him could be saved.

But you couldn’t save him from here. You couldn’t save yourself, either, not while trapped under his watchful eye.

You waited until the ship entered hyperspace, the stars outside the viewport stretching into brilliant streaks of light. Caleb had left the cockpit, likely to rest in his quarters, trusting that you wouldn’t try to run again.

But you would.

The escape pod was your only hope. It wasn’t equipped for long distances, but there were relay beacons in hyperspace that could pick up distress signals. If you could launch and activate the beacon before Caleb noticed, someone might find you.

Your heart raced as you crept through the corridors, the sound of your own breathing deafening in the otherwise silent ship. Reaching the pod, you activated the pre-launch sequence as quietly as you could. The soft hum of the systems coming online sent a rush of hope through you.

This time, you wouldn’t fail.

The pod door hissed open, and you stepped inside, your fingers hovering over the control panel to seal it. Just as you were about to press the button, the air behind you seemed to shift, a faint ripple you couldn’t quite explain.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

You spun around, your stomach plummeting as you saw Caleb standing in the corridor, his face a mask of quiet fury and something else—disappointment.

“I told you,” he continued, stepping closer, his tone steady but cold, “I can’t let you leave.”

Your breath hitched as you backed into the pod, your hand hovering over the emergency launch switch. “Stay back, Caleb!” you warned, though your voice wavered.

He didn’t stop. “You think I’m doing this to hurt you?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the raw emotion beneath. “Everything I’ve done...it’s to keep you safe. Out there, you’d be lost. Alone. Do you really think anyone else cares about you like I do?”

“I don’t care!” you snapped, tears streaming down your face. “I’d rather take my chances out there than spend another second as your prisoner!”

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “Prisoner? Is that what you think you are?” He took another step forward, and suddenly the air around him seemed to thrum with energy, an invisible force pressing against your chest.

“No,” you whispered, realization dawning. “Caleb, don’t-”

But it was too late.

He’d never used his evol on you before, always insisting that he didn’t need to. But now, the invisible pressure around you grew stronger, pinning you against the wall of the escape pod.

“I didn’t want to do this...” he said, his voice trembling. “I wanted you to stay because you wanted to. But you’re not giving me a choice.”

The pressure intensified, your limbs frozen as though gravity itself had turned against you. Your breath came in shallow gasps as Caleb stepped into the pod, his hand reaching out to gently touch your face.

“I told myself I’d never use this on you,” he said softly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

“Caleb...” you choked out, your voice barely audible. “Please… don’t do this.”

He ignored your plea, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek. “I’ll make you understand” he whispered. “I’ll show you that everything I’ve done has been for you.”

You felt the energy shift again, a wave of warmth washing over you. It wasn’t painful, but it was invasive, creeping into your mind like tendrils of smoke. Images flooded your thoughts, memories of the two of you together, moments of happiness twisted and magnified until they felt overwhelming.

It was him. He was pushing these feelings into you, amplifying your love for him, drowning out your fear and anger.

“No” you gasped, struggling against the invisible force holding you. “Stop it, Caleb. This isn’t real!”

“But it is,” he said, his voice breaking. “This is how it’s supposed to be. Just you and me. No fear, no doubt. Only love.”

When the pressure finally eased, you collapsed to the floor of the pod, trembling and weak. Caleb knelt beside you, his arms wrapping around you as though to shield you from the universe itself.

“It’s okay” he murmured, rocking you gently. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

You didn’t fight him. You couldn’t. The memories and emotions he’d forced into your mind left you too disoriented to resist. Somewhere deep inside, the part of you that still wanted freedom screamed in defiance, but it was a distant echo, drowned out by the overwhelming sense of surrender.

As Caleb carried you back to the main cabin, you realized with a hollow ache that you’d lost. He wouldn’t let you go, and now, you weren’t sure if you even had the strength to try again.

Caleb pressed a kiss to your forehead as he laid you down on the bed, his voice soft and full of devotion. “Rest now, my love. I’ll take care of everything.”

And as the ship continued its journey through the endless void, you closed your eyes, the weight of his love binding you tighter than any chain ever could.

-----

Caleb is backkkk

And Jan 23rd is my birthday so..✨ have fun reading❤️

[flamingpudding]

Jail Buddies

Once a month, Jason makes an effort to meet Dick on purpose. Sometimes even more. After all, he was a good little brother checking in with his brother. Though he had a rather uncontroversial way of doing so. One that involved getting led into a jail cell of your local police department and loudly demanding to speak to Officer Grayson.

Okay, maybe it wasn't like that it was an effort to check on his brother and just one of his many listed dumb moments of recklessness he got caught for. And he was maybe using his brother to get out without having to call Cass, Steph, Duke, Tim, Damian, Alfred or Bruce, in that order depending who was willing to bail him out every time Dick had his 'Little Wing you won't learn if I keep bailing you out.'-Phases again. Or if Dick was being petty because of a recent prank war.

Either way, while Jason was waiting for Dick to make his entrance in his cell he noticed the teen boy sharing the cell with him staring at him wide eyed. He arched an eyebrow, and decided on a whim to make friendly conversation.

"So what got you here kid?"

The teen blinked as if just realizing Jason had addressed him before grinning a bit feral, his blue eyes having an unnatural glow. "Vandalism."

Jason's eyebrow rose again, but the teen continued.

"Trashed mu place and gave my guardian's car a pretty paint job and some other stuff."

"You vandalized your own place? And got arrested."

"Fruitloop decided an overnight stay was a better punishment then leaving me unattended."

The teen shrugged and Jason couldn't help but feel like he just had heard a red flag. He opened his mouth to question the kid more but than his brother finally made his entrance.

"Little Wing! What did you do this time!?" Jason could see that Dick was out to start a rant but changed tunes when he noticed the teen.

"Danny or Dan? You are here again? When did they bring you in? Trouble at home?" Dick asked, and Jason clearly saw the telltale signs of information fishing bat style.

"Danny and the usual." Danny, as Jason now learned the kid's name was, shrugged nonchalantly like this wasn't the first time he and Dick had had that exchange.

"Seriously buddy? I had a rebellious phase as teen too but to regularly trash your home to the point that someone calls the police or vandalize your guardian's cars, buildings, advertisements or anything that has to do with him is not a solution kid." Jason arched an eyebrow at Dicks tone, feeling slightly reminded of whenever Dick lectured one of them.

"Oh I know. But it's a nice stress reliever, plus you guys are nice here. I get pizza as dinner whenever I stay the night." The kid grinned and Jason couldn't help the snort that earned him a little glare from Dick.

Instead of arguing further his brother let out a suffering sigh and let Jason out of the cell, waving him towards the exit and following him shortly after giving the kid one more look that looked like a mix between stern and pleading to stop being a rebellious teen.

Once out of earshot, Jason then chose to ask. "So what's the kid's deal?"

"Nothing, just a rebellious teen reminds me of Damian when he first appeared. He has a twin and a little sister as far as I know, both of them also known here. Their guardian is an upstanding man, though." Jason heard the hidden but.

"Did someone look into it?" He hummed more as a cover.

"Higher ups don't know, but i am running an investigation." Translation Bruce is unaware, but Dick was using Bat resources for looking into the kid's residence.

"Nice kid, didn't think he was a regular." He only commented.

"Nice and polite, you wouldn't think he did some of the things he was brought in for. Distrustful though, despite his friendly nature."

Jason nodded as Dick went through the papers to bail him out, a thought popping up in his head. Clearly, something was up with the kid that had his brother worried, and it looked like he was stuck on just doing his investigation. So, being the thoughtful little brother he was, Jason decided to help his brother.

In his uncontroversial ways, of course.

"Yo Danny, also here?" Jason grinned as he was led into the same cell the teen was in a week later.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Can you please do a hc of the guys helping you out after you come home tipsy(or drunk) from a girls night?

𝙿𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜

The lads men taking care of you after a girls night out. You came home drunk and you woke up with the worst hangover known to man. A/N: for this we’re going full messy drunk okay? great. cw: mentions of vomit/puke

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

[Coming home]

he picked you up after you drunk dialed him

drove on side roads so he could go slower so you wouldn’t get motion sickness

keeps your hair out of your face while you puke

listens to you ramble on and on about handsome he is and reminds you that you’re already dating him when you ask if he’s single

dodges you every time you try to kiss him in your drunken state ; does not care how fussy you get

let’s you hang on him like a koala while he removes your makeup and runs you a bath

tucks you into bed and holds you while you sleep

[The hangover]

has been checking on you periodically while you were passed out asleep the second you start to stir he grabs water and pain meds for your headache

in full doctor mode ; not gentle at all making you down two pills and a glass of water

left a trash can by the bed for you incase you vomitted overnight

spoons feeds you ginger chicken soup so you’re not digesting pain meds on an empty stomach ; doesn't leave until the whole bowl is gone

makes you lay on your side when you fall back asleep ; he doesn’t want you to choke one your own vomit

rubs your back while giving you a small lecture about drinking too much

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

[Coming home]

teases you about how you can’t hold your liquor

helps you take off your heels/shoes when you come stumbling through the door

picks you up carries you through the house while rubbing your back

is blushing furiously from your shameless flirting in your drunken state

sits you on the counter and holds your chin while he wipes your makeup off

finds it funny when you get fussy while he’s trying to take care of you “you’re so adorable”

strips you out of your current outfit and puts you in one of his shirts “You look better in my clothes anyway”

cradles you in his arms and has a trash can within reach if you have to puke

[The hangover]

has you laying on him while he reads a book when you wake up “good morning cutie does your head hurt?”

teases you again before kissing your forehead offering to get you food

“Come on you need a shower” carries you to the bathroom and showers with you ; dresses you in another one of his shirt again “you should just wear my clothes”

washes your face for you “I can do it Raf!” “I know you can, but let me take care of you”

wraps you up in the blanket like a burrito and carries you into his studio so he can keep an eye on you while he paints

gives you pain meds for your headache and orders or makes you whatever you want to eat

tells you all about your shameless flirting while you were drunk ; over exaggerates how he had to fight you off because you wanted him so bad

ends up laying on the couch with you instead of working on any of his projects

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

[Coming home]

woke up from his sleep when he heard you fumbling with the front door lock

fell to the floor with you on top of him when you stumbled through the door

concerned with how much you drank “Did you overdue it?” ; your giggles gave it away

is half sleep while he sits you on the counter and wipes your makeup off ; is unbelievably gentle while he does this

sits on the floor of the bathroom with you while you throw up ; stays like this with you until you start dozing off

rubs your back and wipes your mouth for you

grips you by the chin and lets you lean against him while he brushes your teeth

strips you down to your underwear and when you get too fussy for him he just lets you lay down like that

[The hangover]

is sitting up in bed when you wake up and immediately drags you into the shower ; towel dries you ; dresses you in his clothes and puts you back in bed

offers to cook you something ; orders takeout after the look you gave him

gives you pain meds after you get something in your stomach

lazy day with Xav naps, naps, and more naps

lazes around in bed all day with you

gets up to get you anything you ask for

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

[Coming home]

it’s night time so you know he’s in his element when you call him to come get you ; your night is ending and his day is just starting

picked you up from your girls night out ; promised to send Luke and Kieran for your car when you started throwing a fit about it

carries you bridal style through the house

already had a bath ready for you ; strips you out of your clothes and puts you in the tub

wraps you in a warm towel ; sits you on the counter ; puts your bonnet on you(or ties your hair back) ; wipes your makeup off and washes your face

doesn’t care how fussy you get when he’s trying to brush your teeth for you ; holds you in place with his evol “ahm roking(im choking)!” “You’re not choking sweetie spit”

lets you sleep in his lap and doesn’t care if you drool on him

[The hangover]

canceled everything to take care of you

him and the twins are at your beckoned call especially Sylus of course

gives you scalp massages

brings you a menu of foods that are good for hangovers ; watches you eat ; encourages one more bite before giving you some pain killers

teases you about your bratty fits you threw while you were drunk “it’s not that funny” “You’re adorable when you try to act angry” “im not acting!” “Whatever you say Princess”

if you have any body aches he’s giving you a massage

sits in bed with you letting you take naps on him ; once again he doesn’t mind you drooling on him

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.” 

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day. 

“About how she got to the institute.” 

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.” 

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance. 

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...” 

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.” 

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.” 

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?” 

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?” 

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.” 

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.” 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London. 

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting. 

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you. 

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means. 

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more. 

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with. 

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table. 

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules. 

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day. 

You wonder if they ever get a break. 

Maybe this is a break for them. 

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority. 

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy. 

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you. 

Except you don’t know your pack. 

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.  

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first. 

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price. 

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after. 

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you. 

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one. 

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall. 

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle. 

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers. 

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now. 

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C. 

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too. 

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back. 

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?” 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.” 

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit. 

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.” 

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most. 

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing. 

“You hungry?” Gaz asks. 

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting. 

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh. 

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well. 

The thought makes something flutter in your chest. 

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?” 

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.” 

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.” 

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you. 

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his. 

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower. 

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either. 

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight. 

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table. 

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone. 

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling. 

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.” 

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own. 

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away. 

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand. 

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one. 

“Captain John Price.” He says. 

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves. 

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other. 

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep. 

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta. 

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.” 

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA. 

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.” 

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond. 

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.” 

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says. 

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.” 

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.” 

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.” 

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.” 

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.” 

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.” 

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things. 

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.” 

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond. 

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says. 

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.” 

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second. 

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.” 

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want. 

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.” 

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.” 

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.” 

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole. 

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.” 

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. 

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?” 

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base. 

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega. 

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world. 

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age. 

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas. 

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up. 

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check. 

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack. 

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings. 

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world. 

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you. 

Or maybe they would have been worse. 

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.” 

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?” 

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.” 

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.” 

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?” 

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.” 

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask. 

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?” 

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer. 

“And how did that go?” 

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.” 

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it. 

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares. 

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer. 

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns? 

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center. 

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways. 

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center. 

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks. 

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night. 

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit. 

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.” 

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.” 

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.” 

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning? 

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being. 

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel. 

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space? 

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.” 

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him. 

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit? 

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence? 

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response? 

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself. 

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive. 

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.” 

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble. 

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you? 

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives. 

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside. 

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over. 

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.” 

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.” 

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought. 

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that. 

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk. 

An unneeded disruption to their lives. 

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you. 

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate. 

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you. 

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet. 

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?” 

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.” 

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!” 

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself. 

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?” 

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.” 

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.” 

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says. 

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game. 

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap. 

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him. 

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?” 

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.” 

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch. 

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder. 

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again. 

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.” 

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state. 

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up. 

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made. 

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.” 

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.” 

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face. 

NEXT ->

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[riddlesrizzler]

Slytherin boys x deer! reader

Mattheo Riddle 

Mattheo with a deer!reader wasn't someone you were meant to end up with. People whispered his name like a warning. Fights followed him like a shadow. Professors tread carefully around him-not out of respect, but fear. So when he started watching you-quiet, delicate, soft-you became the question no one could answer.

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t notice you at first. Not really. You sat in the back, took notes with your head down, flinched when doors slammed. Too quiet. Too soft. Too unimportant for someone like him-until he saw you shift in the forest one evening. That’s when something in him stopped cold.

Mattheo with a deer!reader wasn’t gentle. He didn’t know how to be gentle. But the way you moved-hesitant, nervous, like even your footsteps apologized-made him freeze in a way no hex ever had. He didn’t approach. Just stared. You didn’t run. Just stared back. That was the start.

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t court you. He loomed near you in class. Stood at your table during meals without explanation. Sat beside you in the library and flipped through books he didn’t care about, just to be near the quiet of your presence. He was like a wolf who had no idea how to speak deer.

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t ask you out. He simply appeared one day and said, “Walk with me.” No smirk. No arrogance. Just a demand coated in curiosity. He didn’t know why he wanted you near him-only that when you were, the noise in his head dulled.

Mattheo with a deer!reader hated the way you made him pause. He was used to instant rage, instant movement, instant chaos. But your softness slowed him. The first time you reached for his hand, it startled him more than a curse ever had. You didn’t flinch. You trusted him-and that scared him more than anything.

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t protect you with hexes or threats-not at first. He watched. Studied. Waited. And when someone made you cry with a careless joke, he didn’t retaliate in public. He waited until the hallway was empty and left that person sobbing on the floor, whispering, “Don’t ever speak her name again.”

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t change overnight. He still lashed out. Still exploded in the common room. Still vanished for days when things got too loud in his head. But you were the only person he came back for. You were the one thing he didn’t want to destroy.

Mattheo with a deer!reader never called you fragile like it was a flaw. He called you untouched. Wild. Soft in a way this world didn’t deserve. “You don’t belong here,” he said once. “And that’s exactly why I can’t stay away from you.”

Mattheo with a deer!reader wasn’t sweet. Wasn’t tender. But he remembered how you liked honey in your tea and that you hated loud rooms. He never told you he was proud when you raised your voice in class for the first time-but he didn’t stop thinking about it for days.

Theodore Nott

Theodore with a deer!reader is all about quiet understanding. He doesn’t fill silence-he lets it settle gently between you, unbothered. When you’re anxious or skittish, he doesn’t push. He just waits, his calm presence grounding you like moss underfoot.

Theodore with a deer!reader is constantly observing. He notices how your ears twitch before a noise even happens, how your fingers fidget when you’re nervous, and how you calm when the wind rustles the trees. He doesn’t say much about it-just quietly adjusts the world around you to make it softer.

Theodore with a deer!reader brings you wildflowers without saying a word. He leaves them on your windowsill or tucks them gently behind your ear with a barely-there smile. He likes the way your cheeks flush when he does.

Theodore with a deer!reader reads in the gardens with you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he murmurs lines from Italian poetry-his accent warm and low, matching the rhythm of your heartbeat. He thinks you look like something out of a dream when the sun filters through the leaves.

Theodore with a deer!reader is fascinated by your Animagus form. He won’t say much the first time he sees it, just kneels beside you and strokes your neck with the kind of reverence most reserve for cathedrals. Later, when you shift back, he simply says, “Bellissima,” like it’s fact.

Theodore with a deer!reader often touches you gently and intentionally-his fingers trailing down your arm to remind you he’s there when you startle, or his hand brushing yours when you're overwhelmed. He never rushes you. He matches your pace instinctively.

Theodore with a deer!reader is endlessly patient. You trip over your own feet often, and every time, he simply catches you with steady hands and an amused hum. “Clumsy little cerbiatta,” he’ll say softly.

Theodore with a deer!reader has a habit of leaving little notes in your coat pockets-sketched leaves, pressed petals, or a short phrase in Italian you have to ask him to translate. He likes watching you try to guess what they mean before he whispers it into your ear.

Theodore with a deer!reader prefers slow, moonlit walks through the woods where he can listen to you talk about things you love-your favorite tree, the quiet stream you nap beside, the way moss feels under your hooves. You’re the only person he opens up to like this.

Theodore with a deer!reader never calls attention to your softness like it’s a weakness. He sees it as a strength-the way you care, the way you listen, the way you love without force. He’s quiet, but he shows you daily how deeply you’re cherished.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo with a deer!reader is completely thrown off when he first notices you-soft, sweet, always hiding behind books or trees like you're part of the scenery. He’s used to confident girls hanging off his arm, but there’s something about your shyness that absolutely wrecks him in the best way.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader immediately starts teasing you once he realizes you get flustered easily. “Careful, Doe” he purrs every time you trip, “wouldn’t want you falling right into my arms-again.”

Lorenzo with a deer!reader starts calling you nicknames like "little legs,” “sweet doe,” and "forest fairy,” just to see how pink your cheeks can get. The fact that you get too flustered to answer only makes him grin wider.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader makes it his mission to get you to laugh. He’ll show up in the middle of the greenhouse pretending to be lost, dramatically narrating his “journey through the enchanted woods” until you’re giggling behind your hands.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader secretly melts when you trust him enough to let him sit with you outside. You’ll be tucked into the tall grass, blinking up at the sky, and he’ll lean back beside you-less teasing now, quieter-because he doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader nearly faints the first time he sees your Animagus form. “No way,” he mutters, stunned, staring like you just walked out of a fairytale. “You’re a real-life baby deer? This is the cutest thing that’s ever happened to me. I'm in so much trouble.”

Lorenzo with a deer!reader who’s clumsy gets gently teased all the time. He’ll catch you stumbling and say, “You trying to fall for me again, love?” while definitely hiding how fast his heart is racing because he lives for being your personal safety net.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader pretends he’s still a player to everyone else, but they all know the truth-he's constantly carrying a spare sweater for you, has your favorite tea memorized, and disappears into the woods every weekend just to be near you.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader jokes around like, “Bet you’ve got the entire forest wrapped around your hoof, huh?” but the truth is he’s the one hopelessly enchanted. He’ll flirt shamelessly, but never crosses a line-your innocence is something he fiercely respects.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader eventually becomes very protective-though he masks it with jokes. “Whoever makes my sweet forest princess cry is getting hexed. I don’t care if it’s a first year or a centaur. Try me.”

Draco Malfoy

Draco with a deer!reader didn’t like you at first-not really. You were too soft-spoken, too gentle, always apologizing when someone bumped into you in the corridor like you were the inconvenience. He saw your softness as weakness, and weakness was something he was taught to despise.

Draco with a deer!reader scoffed the first time he saw you tending to a wounded bird behind the Herbology greenhouses, whispering kind words like they might mend broken wings. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, turning on his heel-though he didn’t stop watching from the corner of his eye.

Draco with a deer!reader found you infuriatingly unbothered by his usual cruelty. You didn’t glare, didn’t snap back-you just blinked at him, wide-eyed and confused, like a startled fawn. It unnerved him in ways he couldn’t explain.

Draco with a deer!reader was annoyed when he learned you were an Animagus. “A deer?” he sneered. “Of course. Fragile and useless.” But when he accidentally came across you in the Forbidden Forest one evening, antlers backlit by the moon, trembling but peaceful-he froze. You looked like something straight out of a dream he wasn’t allowed to have.

Draco with a deer!reader started paying more attention after that. Watching the way you preferred the company of trees over people, how you flinched at raised voices but smiled at sunrises. It bothered him-why did he care?

Draco with a deer!reader found himself oddly protective. When someone mocked your nervous stutter in class, he hexed them before he even realized his wand was out. “They were annoying me,” he lied, avoiding your eyes.

Draco with a deer!reader began testing you, throwing snide remarks your way just to see if you'd finally crack-but you never did. Instead, you’d look at him softly and say things like, “I hope your day gets better,” and he’d feel something split quietly in his chest.

Draco with a deer!reader was the first to catch you when you tripped-always too fast for someone else to react. “Watch it,” he’d mutter, holding you longer than necessary. “You really are helpless, aren’t you?” But his voice had lost its edge.

Draco with a deer!reader started joining you on quiet walk-never asking, just appearing beside you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he just happened to be there. He’d grumble the whole way but always walked at your pace.

Draco with a deer!reader never admitted out loud that he fell in love with your softness. But the way he softened around you-the way his voice lowered, the way he stopped correcting your nervous rambling, the way he called you “doe eyes” under his breath-said everything.

Blaise Zabini

Blaise with a deer!reader didn’t meet you in a corridor or common room-he met you in the forest. He was wandering alone, clearing his head, when he saw you in your Animagus form. A deer, poised and glowing under the trees. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. And then you were gone.

Blaise with a deer!reader kept returning after that. At first by accident. Then on purpose. And every time, you were there-either as yourself or your Animagus, tucked into the quiet like you belonged to the forest. You never spoke much. Neither did he. You didn’t need to.

Blaise with a deer!reader would sit beside you on fallen logs or in patches of moss, just close enough that you might brush against each other if one of you shifted. The silence was never awkward-it was peaceful. Shared. Sacred.

Blaise with a deer!reader learned your rhythms without asking. How your fingers trembled around your quill. How you always looked toward the windows during class, longing for the woods. How your steps were hesitant but your heart was so open.

Blaise with a deer!reader never asked why you were drawn to the forest. But he started leaving little signs behind: a scarf draped on the branch you leaned against, a copy of a book you’d mentioned wanting to read tucked behind a tree. You always found them. He never said a word.

Blaise with a deer!reader doesn’t tease you like Lorenzo or challenge you like Draco. He just sees you. His gaze always lingers a second too long, quiet and reverent, like you’re something rare and fragile that the world doesn’t deserve.

Blaise with a deer!reader sometimes watches you in Animagus form from afar, his expression unreadable. But one day you shifted back, blinking at him through the trees, and he murmured, “Beautiful either way.” You were too stunned to reply. He didn’t need you to.

Blaise with a deer!reader speaks more with small gestures-offering his hand when you’re struggling with your balance, brushing a leaf from your hair without a word, always placing himself on the side of you that faces open spaces, as if shielding you from the world.

Blaise with a deer!reader has his own quiet, mysterious presence. You never pry. You just sit together in stillness, understanding each other in ways that go beyond words. He finds comfort in your softness; you find safety in his silence.

Blaise with a deer!reader doesn’t confess with a speech. He just reaches for your hand one evening under a sky full of stars, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like a promise. “You calm me,” he says quietly. And that’s all either of you need to know.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Home Is Where You Are

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader (Mom!Paige x Mom!Y/N)

Fandom: WNBA-Dallas Wings

Summary: 14 hour shifts, wnba mom and a cute little 7 year old… sounds like home

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @iwasbored-okay

PAIGE’S POV

The sound of little feet hitting the floor makes me pause the show playing in the background—some rerun of Bluey, I think.

Ashton’s been asleep for about two hours now.

We’d done the whole bedtime routine—bath, stories, warm milk, even extra snuggles in his Star Wars blanket.

I’d kissed his forehead and tucked him in like always.

So hearing the pitter-patter of those socked feet at almost 11 p.m. makes my heart race a little.

I sit up, stretching an arm over the side of the bed just in case he makes it all the way to our room.

Sure enough, he appears at the doorway, hair tousled and his little pajama shirt clinging to him like he’d just been sweating in his sleep. His stuffed frog, Franklin, dangles from one hand.

“Mommy?” he says in that sleepy, trembling voice that makes my chest ache.

“I’m here, baby,” I say instantly, scooting back and pulling the blanket up.

He doesn’t hesitate. He practically leaps into the bed and wiggles his way under the covers beside me.

“Did you have a bad dream?” I whisper, brushing some curls off his forehead. He nods and curls into my side like he’s still unsure if I’m real.

“I… I dreamed you were gone,” he mumbles, clutching Franklin tighter.

“Like… both of you were gone, and the house was empty, and it was raining inside. The TV was on but it was all broken.”

I pull him even closer.

“Oh, bubba,” I sigh, kissing the top of his head. “You know we’d never leave you, right?”

“I had to run down the hall to make sure you were still here,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper now. “When I saw you in bed, I felt better.”

I blink a few times, heart full and breaking all at once. “Well, I’m here. And you’re safe. Mama’s just working a long shift tonight, remember?”

He nods again, but he doesn’t let go of me.

“Wanna watch something with me?” I ask softly. “We can put on Disney Junior.”

“Bluey?” he murmurs.

“You got it.”

I grab the remote from the nightstand and flick it to Disney Junior. The screen lights up the room in a soft glow, and Ashton settles in, cheek resting on my arm as the opening theme plays.

“Mama’s gonna be home when you wake up,” I tell him.

“I know,” he whispers, and I hear the exhaustion finally start to take over his voice. “I just wanted to be with you…”

“I always want to be with you too, bub.”

He falls asleep like that, one small hand tucked against my side and the other wrapped around Franklin.

And even though it’s late and I’m a little sore from practice earlier, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Y/N’S POV

The hospital hallway smells like antiseptic and black coffee, and I can’t tell anymore whether the hum in my ears is from the lights or from being on my feet for fourteen straight hours.

It’s 4:47 a.m.

The overnight shift is brutal.

Worse when it’s back-to-back with another one tomorrow. But someone’s gotta do it.

And truth be told—I miss my family so much it aches.

The only reason I got through tonight was because Paige sent a selfie around 9 p.m. of her and Ashton cuddled on the couch, both wearing their Dallas Wings hoodies, eating popcorn and making faces at the camera.

I live for those pictures.

I live for them.

I glance at my phone again while changing out of my scrubs in the locker room.

Paige B.

“He’s in bed. We watched Bluey and ate too many Oreos. Love you.”

sent 11:13 p.m.

I smile, small and tired, as I slip on my hoodie and head toward the parking garage.

The drive home is blurry.

My body aches, but my mind is running on one track: I need a shower, I need my girl, and I need to kiss my son good morning even if he’s still asleep.

The front door creaks as I push it open, and I’m extra careful with the key.

The house is quiet, dark, but I hear the faint sound of a TV still running somewhere—cartoon voices, soft and steady.

The hallway to our room feels longer in the silence.

And then I see it: the glow of the TV playing Bluey, Paige curled up under the blanket, and Ashton snuggled tight against her, his little hand still gripping Franklin.

God, they’re beautiful.

Paige is facing him but I can tell she’s not in a deep sleep.

It’s that kind of half-rest she always falls into when she’s waiting for me.

I backtrack to the bathroom, turning the water on low and hot, tiptoeing through the routine to avoid waking anyone.

The shower hits my skin and I wince.

But not from the hotness of the water.

It’s been a long day.

A brutal one.

I just want to scrub the hospital off of me and crawl into bed between the two loves of my life.

I’m just washing my arms when I hear the door creak open.

“Ma?” Paige’s voice is soft, raspy, still half-asleep.

I turn and smile as she steps in, blinking through the steam.

She doesn’t say anything else.

Just steps in behind me, arms sliding around my waist as her cheek presses to my shoulder.

“You should be asleep,” I murmur.

“I don’t fully sleep when you’re not home,” she says, and I feel her lips kiss the top of my spine. “How was your shift?”

“Exhausting,” I admit, leaning into her touch.

“Let me help,” she whispers.

She takes the loofah from me gently and begins washing my back, slow and tender, like I’m made of glass.

Her fingers trail behind each motion, pressing soft, familiar circles into my shoulders, down my spine.

Her lips kiss just below my neck.

“I missed you,” I breathe.

“I missed you more,” she counters.

The water runs warm between us, and it feels like the whole world fades for a minute.

There’s no hospital.

No overtime.

No sore muscles.

Just her.

Her touch.

Her love.

After a few more minutes, we rinse off, dry each other in soft, tired silence, and slip back into bed.

Ashton hasn’t moved an inch.

He’s in the exact same spot—except now, his hand is outstretched slightly, like he was waiting for someone else to return.

I slip into the bed and press a kiss to his forehead.

Paige pulls the blanket over us and slides in behind me, her arm wrapping around both me and Ashton.

Her chin rests lightly against my shoulder.

“TV okay?” she mumbles, eyes already starting to flutter closed again.

“Perfect,” I whisper.

The screen glows in the dim room, playing a soft, familiar theme song.

And even though I’m bone tired, my heart is so full it could burst.

Later That Morning. After I had only a few hours of sleep and the sun is peaking through the curtains more.

I’m now half-awake when I feel little fingers tapping my arm.

“Mama?” Ashton’s voice is tiny.

I blink open my eyes. “Hey, bub…”

“You’re home!” he beams, climbing over Paige to smush himself into my arms.

I pull him close, pressing my nose into his curls. “I’m home.”

“I had a bad dream,” he mumbles again. “But Mommy let me sleep with her. She said you’d be back.”

“She was right.”

I glance over and see Paige still half-asleep, smiling into the pillow.

“Wanna watch Bluey again?” I ask him.

“Only if you stay with us this time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I hold him tight, Paige’s hand finding mine under the blanket.

Disney Junior keeps playing.

And just like that—we’re whole again.

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                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[werecreature-addicted]

Have you ever written about an amnesiac werewolf? Like the reader finds a poor lost soul in the forest and takes them in, unknowingly dooming herself to becoming a breeding pet when the moon strikes and his instincts take over? He doesn't know what's come over him. He really doesn't. :'(

TW: car accidents. dubcon. do i know anything about hospitals? no. shhh. enjoy the werewolf porn.

You've grown quite attached to John Doe. He came in three days ago, he'd been "found" naked wandering a forest road at night and gotten cleaned out by a driver in a pickup truck. The driver said he thought he hit a dog or a deer that had wandered onto the road and was horrified to see a man there instead lying bloody on the asphalt.

Despite how bad John Doe looked when he was wheeled into your clinic, he'd been recovering quite nicely. He was even conscious now although he didn't seem to remember anything from before the accident. That coupled with the fact that he was found naked in the woods, it was proving difficult to contact any friends or family who might be able to give a concrete identity.

You weren't too worried though. It was a small community, and you were sure someone who knew him would turn up eventually. As for you, this was a slow time of year for a humble trauma center doctor, you were able to spend lots of time with your favorite amnesiac. It was a little miraculous really how well he was recovering everything but his memory. If you didn't know any better you'd say it was supernatural.

You found yourself spending more and more time with your John Doe, he was sweet and funny, Not to mention he was very attractive, even bloody and bruised. Although the budding warmth you felt for him was tainted slightly both by the fact that he was your patient and the nagging worry in the back of your head that this wasn't the real him. This could all be a false personality that he would lose once he got his memories back.

You'd already started toying with a daydream where once recovered John Doe would still come by to visit you. You shake your head and try to dispel those fantasies from your mind. You mentally chided yourself, you weren't a teenager with a crush you should be handling yourself more professionally than this. Still, your heart raced when he smiled at you.

In the end, it wasn't a friend or family member who revealed who John Doe really was, but it was the summer rain. You were just about to leave for the night when you started getting phone calls. A bad storm was coming in and soon it wouldn't be safe to drive on the largely dirt roads in this town, no one would be coming up to fill in the night shift. You could make it home safe if you left now. But that would mean abandoning your patient and you couldn't do that. So instead you just sighed and hunkered down preparing to wait out the storm inside the hospital.

John Doe was more than happy to have your company- he liked you better than any of the overnight team anyway, and over the past day he'd begun to feel strange. Not in pain just energized in a usual way. there was a tingling sensation just below his skin, he felt hungry but not for food. He couldn't really put a name to the strange pressure in his body, he only knew that it was growing and it made him want to keep you close.

You were in the break room when it happened. You were trying to figure something out for dinner which was hard with only vending machine options available when lightning strikes and the lights die. you hesitate, waiting for backup generators but only the red EXIT lights stay on, casting an eerie red glow to the room. You were just starting to pull open cabinets looking for a flashlight when you heard a loud crash and what sounded like an animal growl. Your heart stops and before you can think you're running toward the sound relying on muscle memory to navigate the darkened halls.

You freeze seeing the hulking form of a wolf over the tipped-over bed of John Doe. How the hell did a wolf get in here? And alone. Even panicked you know something isn't right. Wolves don't come this close to humans, they don't attack humans and they never ever do it alone. Then the wolf looks at you and stands on its hind legs and you realize it's not a wolf but a monster.

Your hands tremble, you should run- call the sheriff- search the lost and found for a gun and shoot the damn thing. But you can't bring yourself to run. The creature in front of you is awe-inspiring despite your fear, you're curious. Then the monster moves and the interest vanishes. Again your body moves before your brain can think you turn and run. You don't look behind as you run but you can hear the beast howl and the solid thud thud thud as it chases after you.

It's a small emergency room, you know there's nowhere to hide unless the werewolf can read and respect "staff only" signs. You feel a large clawed hand wrap around your waist your legs are still kicking trying to run as you're lifted in the air by the monster.

"You took such good care of me...now let me take care of you, sweet mate," the werewolf growls in your ear, turning you to face him, forcing you to look at his hulking monstrous form. You struggle futilely in his grasp he's strong and you can see his muscles bulge under his dark black fur. Lightning strikes again illuminating his sharp white teeth and his bright hungry eyes.

It takes you a moment to catch up to the fact that 1. The werewolf had spoken and 2. That he had promised to "take care of you". Before you can catch your breath let alone ask what that meant he's shoving you down onto the cold linoleum floor, shredding your pants with one clawed hand and the other he presses down hard on your back in between your shoulder blades keeping you pinned to the floor. You can feel his warm breath on your exposed skin as he huffs your scent. you can't see him but you know he's drooling. The attention makes you tremble, and then he pushes his thick rough tongue against your body and you moan. His tongue is thick and wet against your trembling cunt. He can't keep his hands to himself, his clawed hand wraps around your breast squeezing as he pulls you back against his hungry lapping mouth.

You can't keep your moans to yourself. The little cries of pleasure slip from your mouth only making the beast more aggressive as he eats you out. Eventually, you give up trying to even hold back the sounds or pretend that you aren't enjoying the ravishment.

It doesn't take much longer for you to cum, he doesn't pull away when you reach your peak. He pushes his tongue deep inside of you savoring the flavor of your cum and the fact that he had successfully pulled an orgasm from you just like he'd promised. His tail wags as he cleans you up, then you start getting wet again and he's not cleaning you up as much as he is eating you out again. His cock hangs heavy between his legs too big and thick for his erection to lift so it just throbs with need and drips thick beads of precum onto the clean floor.

He can't quite decide what he needs more, to jerk himself off or to keep both his hands on you. Eventually, his own ache can't be ignored and he starts to jerk himself off. it doesn't take long for him to cum the sweet flood of your cum just drives him insane. his knot swells pitifully as his semen splatters against your legs and ass dripping down to your pussy. two of his clawed fingers scoop up some of his spilled seed and push it inside of you.

"Next time I cum tonight it's going to be inside of you." It sounds like a threat, you can't wait.

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist