#also i’ve been getting barely any sleep but last night i slept TEN HOURS and woke up feeling ACTUALLY RESTED???

[willowfey]

this is the third morning in a row i’ve woken up from NO NIGHTMARES and WITHOUT being nauseous from anxiety after multiple weeks of nothing but that…

feeling hashtag blessed and a little bit less stressed

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

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a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of drug use

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 11

Matt Sturniolo created his own world; only in his own environment did he feel secure, comfortable, and protected. A genuine camaraderie was created at Graceland. We lived as one big family, eating, talking, arguing, joking, playing, and traveling together.

Although I became friends with the guys in Matt’s retinue, he never let me, or anyone else, forget that I was his girl. I was never to get too close or become too familiar with any of the regulars.

One evening, after we came home from a movie, we said good night to everyone and went upstairs. Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later to get something to eat, I found Jerry Schilling, who’d just started working for Matt, making himself a snack. We started talking. A few minutes later, Matt appeared.

“What the hell are you two doing down here?” he shouted at us.

Intimidated, Jerry said, “Well, Matt, we were just talking. I was asking her how she felt, because she didn’t feel well this afternoon.”

“I came down to get something to eat,” I explained.

“y/nn, you don’t need to be roaming around here late at night,” he said, angrily ordering me upstairs.

Behind me, I could hear him lashing out at Jerry. “If you want to keep this job, son, you mind your own business. If there’s anyone who’s going to ask her how she feels, it’ll be me. You better mind your own goddamn business.”

I liked Jerry. He was warm, sincere, and very personable; just a couple of years older than I, he was one of the few people who I could relate to. But from that time on, it was a dodging match every time we’d run into each other. Now Jerry and I laugh about the “good old days” when we reminisce.

Most of the boys who worked for Matt had been around from the beginning and they knew all about him—his sense of humor, his sensitivity, and his temper. He stripped himself bare in front of them, and they accepted him for what he was.

Yet working for Matt was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, and the boys were at his beck and call constantly. They played when he played and slept when he slept. It took a certain kind of personality to put up with his demands, whether they made sense or not.

“Come on, y/nn, let’s go to Los Angeles. I’ll show you where I film movies.,” he said one afternoon when we’d only been up for a few hours. He called downstairs and told Alan to alert everyone that he wanted to leave within the hour.

Alan said, “Okay, Boss. I think Richard and Gene are still sleeping. I’ll give ’em a call and tell ’em to come right over.”

“Their lazy asses are still sleeping?” Matt asked. “I’ve been up for two goddamn hours. They should have been over here by now. Alan, from now on, when I call down for my breakfast, call the boys and tell them I’m up and to be ready for anything, and that may include me not even coming downstairs. I just want them here.”

Demanding? Yes, but Matt could be just as generous. By today’s standards the boys’ salaries were not high—the average paycheck was $250 a week—but if the boys ever felt the pinch by the end of the month, they would go to Matt. They’d ask him if he could help them out with a down payment on a house or the first and last months’ payments on an apartment. Matt always came through for them, lending them the one thousand or five thousand or ten thousand dollars they asked for. He was rarely if ever paid back.

There also was no limit to the expensive gifts he gave them—television consoles for Christmas, bonus checks, Cadillac convertibles, Mercedes-Benzes. If he heard someone was sad or depressed, he loved to surprise them with a gift, usually a brand-new car. When he gave to one, he would usually end up giving to all.

James didn’t have much respect for the guys. He said Matt just gave and gave and gave, and they took and took and took. He’d say, “Son, we have to save.” Matt would answer, “It’s only money, Dad. I just have to go out and make more.”

James resented the regulars acting as if Graceland was their personal club. They’d go into the kitchen at any hour and order anything they wanted. Naturally, everyone ordered something different. The cooks worked night and day keeping them happy. James felt, “To hell with the boys. Their main concern should be Matt.”

What was really outrageous was that the regulars were ordering sirloin steaks or prime ribs while Matt usually ate hamburgers or peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

I wasn’t too popular around Graceland when I started reorganizing the kitchen. I set down a policy of having one menu per meal, and anyone who didn’t like what was on it could go to a local restaurant. This new edict resulted in much grumbling from the guys, but the cooks were relieved, and James sanctioned my decision, announcing, “It’s about time someone organized the meals. It was beginning to look like we were feeding half of Boston.”

Matt was the boss, the provider, and the power. Both the boys and I had to protect him from people who annoyed or irritated him and were no longer in his favor. Before coming down for the evening, he’d have me call downstairs to check who was there. I’d run down the guests, aware that certain names would strike him wrong.

“Shit,” he’d say, his mood destroyed. “What’s he want? Bring me some more bad news?” He’d stay up in his room rather than spend an evening with someone he didn’t like. There was one particular regular who had incurred his disfavor, and Matt told everyone he didn’t want him around. “Don’t let him through those goddamn gates!” Matt ordered. “All I have to do is look at his face and I get depressed.” Matt barred him from Graceland for a number of years, saying, “If he changes his morbid attitude, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His perceptions were correct, as these “friends” eventually betrayed him.

Matt and James kept some of their relatives at a distance because, as Matt explained to me, they’d shunned him when he was growing up, ridiculing him as a sissy, a mama’s boy. Mary Lou stood up for Matt and told his tormentors to go their own way. Angrily, she had said, “Don’t bother us with these accusations.”

Then fame and fortune hit, and suddenly all the kinfolk came around, begging for jobs or crying that they needed help. Sometimes Matt got upset, charging, “The only time they visit is with their hand out. It’d be nice if they’d come around just to see how I was doing. But hell no, it’s always, ‘Ah, Matt, I could use a little extra cash. Could you help me out?’ Hell, I’ll bet when I’m dead and gone, they’ll still be taking advantage.” But Matt ended up slipping each of them a hundred dollars or more every time they came around. If it had been up to James, he would have gotten rid of every one of them. But Matt kept saying, “No, Dad, they don’t have any place to go. They couldn’t work anywhere. Keep them here.”

From the beginning of his success, Matt put many family members on salary, and all had titles. James was his business manager; Patsy, his personal secretary; uncles Vester Sturniolo and Johnny and Travis Smith, and cousin Harold Lloyd, gate guards; cousins Billy, Bobby, and Gene, personal aides; and then there was Tracy Smith, who seemed to go from brother to brother for support. Matt took care of everyone.

I remember one night at Graceland when Matt came back to the kitchen and saw Tracy pacing the floor. “Hey, Tracy,” he said, “How ya doing, man?” Tracy, his hands in his pockets, could hardly look Matt in the eye. “I don’t know, Matt,” he sighed. “What do ya mean, you don’t know? Everyone knows how they’re doin’, man.”

Tracy, shifting back and forth, mumbled, “I got my nerves in the dirt, Matt.” Matt staggered back, laughing. “Nerves in the dirt! Hell, I never heard it expressed like that before. You need some money, Tracy?”

Again, Tracy just shifted back and forth, as Matt called Nate over and told him to give Tracy a bill. A big smile covered Tracy’s lined face as he happily took his hundred dollars and walked out the door.

Matt knew that having his nerves in the dirt was Tracy’s way of saying he was down and out—and worried sick about it. He never forgot that phrase. “Poor ol’ Matt,” he’d say. “I’ll never forget the look on his face that night, poor ol’ guy.”

That was Matt—always caring, always sensitive to everyone’s needs, even while presenting a macho image to his fans and friends.

Anything I could think of doing for him, I did. I made sure Graceland was always warm and inviting, with the lights turned low, as he preferred them, the temperature in his bedroom set to his exact desire (freezing), and the kitchen filled with the aroma of his favorite meals.

Every night before dinner was served, I came downstairs first, checked with the maids to see that his food was just the way he liked it—his mashed potatoes creamily whipped, plenty of cornbread, and his meat burnt to perfection. I always had candles on the dining room table to create a romantic atmosphere despite the fact that we always ate with several of the regulars.

I loved babying Matt. He had a little-boy quality that could bring out the mother instinct in any woman, a beguiling way of seeming utterly dependent. It was this aspect of his charm that made me want to hold him, shower him with affection, protect him, fight for him, and yes, even die for him. I went to extremes in taking care of him, from cutting his steak at dinner to making sure his water glass was always filled. I enjoyed pampering and spoiling him and found myself jealous of others vying for his attention and approval.

But I didn’t always receive his approval. If something went wrong with his dinner, Matt blew up. “Why isn’t this steak done? Why didn’t you make sure the maids cooked it right? If you’d have done your job, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Obviously something else was wrong, and I didn’t recognize it at the time. Because of the continuous pressures and problems in Matt’s life, all magnified by taking prescribed drugs, little things would set him off. I took responsibility for everything in his life and always took it all too personally.

I wanted to be with Matt as much as I could, but while going to the movies or the fairgrounds every night might have been a wonderful way for him to relax, it posed an enormous problem for me. Often I wouldn’t get home until 5 or 6 a.m., and I’d have to be at school two hours later. Sometimes I never went to sleep. When I did, I could barely make it out of bed. I would lie there trying to drum up the strength to face the day, Matt making it even harder by suggesting that I sleep in and cut classes. It would have been so easy to go along with his suggestion, but hanging over me was the agreement I’d made with my parents. They trusted me and even though I was letting them down, I still had to keep up the facade.

Day after day I drove to school, attended classes till noon, then returned to Graceland to slip back into bed and cuddle next to Matt, who was still sound asleep. When he awoke at 3 or 4 p.m., I might never have left his side for all he knew. I was there to give him his usual order of orange juice, a Spanish omelet, home-fried potatoes, a mere two pounds of bacon, and—first and foremost—his black coffee.

Everyone who knew Matt was aware that it took him at least two to three hours to wake up fully. Asking him to make a decision, even a simple one such as what movie he wanted to see that night, was ill-advised. He was just too groggy and irritable from the sleeping pills, which were causing him to sleep as many as fourteen hours a day. It seemed only natural for him to take some Dexedrine to wake up.

I was always concerned about his intake of sleeping pills. His horror of insomnia, compounded with a family history of compulsive worrying, caused him to down three or four Placidyls, Seconals, Quaaludes, or Tuinals almost every night—and often it was a combination of all four. When I expressed my concern, he just picked up the medical dictionary, always near at hand on his night table.

“In here is the explanation for every type of pill on the market, their ingredients, side effects, cures, everything about them,” he assured me. “There isn’t anything I can’t find out.”

It was true. He was always reading up on pills, always checking to see what was on the market, and which ones had received FDA approval. He referred to them by their medical names and knew all their ingredients. Like everyone else around him, I was impressed with his knowledge and certain that he was an expert. One would think he had a degree in pharmacology. He always assured me that he didn’t need pills, that he could never become dependent on them. This difference in opinion resulted in many serious confrontations; I always compromised my integrity and ended up taking his viewpoint.

I began taking sleeping pills and diet pills too. Two Placidyls for him and one for me. A Dexedrine for him and one for me. Eventually Matt’s consumption of pills seemed as normal to me as watching him eat a pound of bacon with his Spanish omelet. I routinely took “helpers” in order to get to sleep after wild rides at the fairgrounds or early-morning jam sessions. And I routinely took more “helpers” when I woke up in order to maintain the fast pace and, more importantly, to study for my final exams.

During the last month before finals, I started popping more dexies than before. They seemed to give me the energy I needed to get through classes and homework. Every free moment was devoted to cramming a whole semester’s work into a few weeks. But my concentration was scattered; the strain of life at Graceland had finally caught up with me.

I had already been warned by Sister Adrian that in order for me to graduate, I had to pass all my subjects. During a talk in her office, I wanted desperately to confide in her and explained how hard it was to maintain my grade level with the late hours I kept: But how could I tell that to a nun?

I had no real goals after graduation, but I did sometimes dream of becoming a dancer or possibly enrolling in an art academy. Now I realize that I was deeply influenced by Matt’s casual attitude toward continued schooling. He figured I didn’t need it and I agreed. Just being with him most of the time would provide an education—not to mention experience—that no school could give me. He wanted me to be his totally, free to go to him in an instant if he needed me.

That sounded great to me. I’d never planned on a future without Matt. Therefore, while my classmates were deciding which colleges to apply to, I was deciding which gun to wear with what sequined dress. I was tempted to say to Sister Adrian, “Oh, by the way, Sister, does gunmetal gray go with royal blue sequins?” With that attitude it was no surprise that I was still woefully unprepared for my most hated subject, algebra, the week before finals.

On the day of the test, I sat in the crowded classroom, hyper from downing a dexy, trying to work out the problems. Despite my effort, I knew there was no way I was going to pass. I started to panic. I had to graduate. I had an obligation to Matt and to my parents, who I knew would yank me out of Graceland the minute I failed this test. I glanced at the girl next to me—and at her completed test paper. It’s my last resort, I thought. I’m going for it. I was not willing to face the consequences of being sent home for failing this test.

Her name was Janet and she was a straight A student. I tapped her on the shoulder and flashed my brightest smile, whispering, “Are you a Matt fan?” Taken aback by my question, Janet nodded yes. “How would you like to come to one of his parties?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I’d love to.”

“Well, I know a way that it can be arranged.”

I eyed her test paper and explained. Janet instantly grasped my dilemma and, without a word, slid her paper to the edge of her desk. Now I had a full view of her answers. I spent the rest of the hour furiously copying them down and I not only passed, but I got an A on that test.

I hadn’t expected Matt to make much of my graduation. His attitude was, “A diploma’s not that important; life’s experiences are.” But to my surprise, he really looked forward to it and arranged to have a big party for our friends after the ceremony. There he presented a beautiful red Corvair, my first car.

On the big night he was like a proud parent. Nervous about what he should wear to the ceremony, he finally settled on a dark blue suit, and I put on my navy blue gown. I couldn’t possibly keep the cap on over that mass of teased hair.

Matt had a limo waiting for us out front. But there was one problem: I did not want him to come to the actual ceremony. It would attract a lot of attention, and all eyes would be focused on him instead of the graduating seniors.

Finally I worked up enough courage to ask him to wait outside, and explained why. Smiling his funny little grin, the one that came to his lips when he was hurt or upset, he agreed without hesitation. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. “I won’t come in. I’ll just be outside in the car waiting for you. That way I’ll kinda be there.”

And that was what he did. I accepted my diploma with mixed emotions. I would have loved for him to have been watching, but only I knew what a physical, emotional, and mental strain it had been to get that piece of paper. To me, it represented freedom, freedom to stay out until dawn if I wanted and sleep all day if I wanted. It represented freedom from my school uniform and from the teasing the entourage subjected me to every time they caught me in it trying to sneak past them at Graceland. I was a big girl playing in the big leagues.

As soon as I could get away, I ran outside. In front of the church, Matt and the boys were standing by the long black limo, looking like the Chicago Mafia in their dark glasses and suits, each concealing a.38. Around them a group of nuns were clamoring for Matt’s autograph.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - so cute🎀

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 6. high

Previous | Next

[warnings: SMUT (it's female receiving oral), weed]

"i think of you in colors that don't exist." — Watching Sal shift repeatedly in his seat and squirm uncomfortably the entire way home is almost comical. You watch him shorten the distance between his thighs and then spread them over and over again as he drives, smiling to yourself.

"Doing okay over there?" You ask, a giggly lilt to your voice as you sit still in your spot.

The feeling between your legs is still buzzing and the engine rumbling your seat beneath you is a bit.. overstimulating.. but you're decent.

"Hmm," he hums in response, squinting your way. "Stop baiting at me," he teases.

When you pull into the parking lot at Addison's Apartments, the both of you remain seated for a silent moment, after Sal pulls the keys from the ignition. The high from moments ago has dulled down, and you're left to soak in what exactly had happened.

Except you don't. You don't even think about what had happened—you barely meet Sal's eyes, nervously grin and reach for the passenger door handle. "Alright, see you tomorrow, let me know what your dad says, text me, goodnight!"

Before the blue-haired boy even has a chance, you've opened the car door, hopped out, and gently shut it behind you. You weren't looking for him to catch up to you, either—so you ran like mad into the apartment complex and took the stairwell instead of waiting for the junky elevator.

When you'd gotten home, you were light on your feet and tiptoed through the living room towards your bedroom. You'd took note of Sal's earlier tactic (taking his shoes off before he entered the apartment) and mirrored it.

When you'd finally gotten to your room, you collapsed onto your bed, comforter beneath your back, and stared up at the ceiling.

Your mind was blank. You couldn't even mentally conjure the words to describe what had just happened.

As you ran the earlier events through your subconscious, you remembered the feeling of his teeth and mouth on the flesh of your neck—and how he'd sucked on it until it hurt. You jumped from your bed, ran (lightly) to your bathroom, turned the light on, and peered into the mirror.

You pushed your hair from your neck—which was stuck to your skin from sweat—and gasped in horror at what you saw.

Sure, they weren't fully formed and hadn't reached their full potential, but those were hickeys. Blood red, slightly purple, forming hickeys. And, from what you remember.. you'd attacked his neck worse than he had to you.

The boy was practically translucently pale. You burned with shame at yourself because of the purgatory you'd subjected him to. He'd have to hide them for a week.

You closed your mouth after hanging your jaw open for 30 minutes and breathed out slowly. Despite the nightmare they'd be to hide.. it was almost nice to see on you. Something of him was left behind. At least you had something to remind you that what had played out tonight occurred and hadn't been a dream, or something.

You pressed your fingers on the marks and winced. They were sore.

After a shower—a cold, icy shower—you retreated into bed. You were so exhausted, you didn't dream.

What felt like moments later—you knew better to say it was, though, because there was early morning light shining through your blinds—you were jostled awake by a cold hand on your shoulder. You groaned, turning to the person and squinting.

"Mom?" You slurred tiredly, taking in Michelle's dim silhouette looming over you. You almost couldn't tell who she was at first before you'd rationalized that the only person who'd be shaking you awake in this ungodly hour would be your mother. Also, you could tell by the work uniform she wore. "Wha'?"

And although you were half-awake, your mind was rational enough to remind you to pull the covers up and conceal the bruises on your neck, which you knew had probably worsened.

"The school called," her words are like a bite. You expected this, but hearing her confrontation is sort of scary. "Not only did you receive detention yesterday, but you skipped it. You're lucky you weren't suspended—I had to lie and blame family emergency for your disappearance."

You didn't say anything, staring up at her and into her eyes.

"I can't believe you. You'll still be attending detention—they've rescheduled it for today. If you pull a stunt like this again, you'll pay the price, got it?"

You couldn't remember the last time she'd scolded you. It's not like you did much to warrant it. You never had someone before recently to play hooky with—or to cheat answers off of in class. You never had friends before.

"Okay," you reply, breaking away from her eyes and looking anywhere else. Eventually, her dark gaze rips from your face and she leaves the room.

You watch your bedroom door that she'd closed behind her—listen to the muffled shuffling and jangling of keys in the living room, and when she finally shuts the front door, you breathe out a sigh of relief and roll over onto your back.

And you smile. Because it's funny. Because she has no idea what you did with a boy last night.

You reach beneath the covers and fish for your flip phone (which you'd started sleeping on, a habit spawned from paranoia) and open it. You know it's early, but you slept before receiving any texts, so maybe...

There's nothing. He hadn't messaged you.

Eventually, you roll back over and give yourself another hour or two of sleep. It's too early to start getting ready.

When you woke up again, you got ready—threw on a black halter top, along with an a-lined, purpley-blue plaid skirt. Slid your feet into over-the-knee black socks and rolled them up your legs and to just below your thighs. Topped it off with a chunky black shoe.

After that, you spent a moderate amount of time on your hair and a little on your face.

You made it a point to wear flavored lip gloss. For no particular reason.

The hickeys were still a bit visible, so you topped off your outfit with an oversized denim jacket. You didn't think that much about it. Whether or not that was a mistake would be decided later. There wasn't much you could do—you didn't own all of the makeup necessary to cover them.

You meet with Sal in the lobby first. You approach him before he's noticed that you're even there—standing with his eyes on his feet, kicking the ground and toeing at nothing.

"Hi," you breathed, unsure of yourself.

His head raises. When he meets your eyes, the light fixture over you flickers. "I can see them," Sal says, stepping closer to you and inclining his head to examine your jawline and below.

The actual is a bit abrupt—you're momentarily started. That is until you've processed what he'd said.

"Yeah," you agree, shrugging. He looks back up at your eyes, his gaze widening. "I can't do anything about it."

He laces a hand through his hair and genuinely looks panicked. That's when you decide to examine him—and his neck.

"Holy shit, Sal," you breathe, a laugh of pure disbelief slipping off of your tongue. "You look like someone choked you."

Sal groans. "Yeah, pretty sure you used teeth."

"What're you going to do about that?" You choose to disregard his prior statement.

"I have an easy way out. I'll claim Travis did it yesterday. Super suspicious because I wasn't bruised this way at the time.. but-"

You meet his eyes with a deadpanned expression. Internally, though—it's almost humorous.. the fact that neither of you are even questioning what you'd done together. But you knew that would bite you in the ass. You'd only done what you'd done once—maybe it shouldn't happen again.

"I don't know, Sal." You press your lips together, smooth the gloss around. You taste artificial cherry flavoring on your tongue. "They look like hickeys."

"No one is going to believe I've been given hickeys, Y/N."

"They'll believe it whenever they see we've got a matching set!" You exclaim, meeting his gaze warily. You struggle a bit. Before, it felt so easy to make eye contact with him—but now you could barely lock eyes without looking away.

"Matching set?"

You jerk, breaking your staring contest with the floor and sliding your eyes upward. Larry was a few feet away, speedily approaching as his long legs closed the distance. Quickly, you split your hair in the back—separating it into two sections and placing one on either side of your face.

You watched Sal mess with his in the corner of your eye.

Nervousness made your heart drop what felt like ten stories when Sal spoke in reply. "Hey, Larry," he says. "Is Ashley driving again?"

"Uh, yeah," He replied, running lanky fingers through his lengthy brown hair. "'Was thinking we could all do something after school."

You hold your breath.

"Oh," Sal takes a moment to swallow thickly. "Y/N and I are doing detention—so we can't."

Larry's dark brows draw downward, casting a shadow over his deep eyes. He glances over at you, examines your face, and then locks eyes with Sal like he had been moments before. "Again? Didn't you guys do that yesterday?"

You decide to give your response this time. "Must've been a misunderstanding. We did go to it yesterday—we just, um.. have to do it again. Today."

Before he can further question the situation, you all hear the beeping of a car horn outside of the complex. It sounds familiar—it's Ashley's car. You all step outside.

Looking at the pale silver Ford Fiesta leaves you with mixed feelings. It's nice to look at—but now it just reminds you of the fact Larry tried to get into an altercation with Sal inside of it.

This time, Todd is in the back seat by himself. It's almost comical. You raise an eyebrow and look towards Ashley in the driver's seat. She rolls her window down and acknowledges you with striking green eyes.

"Shotgun?"

You almost feel bad for leaving Sal in the backseat, knowing he's probably on edge with those marks on his neck. But you can't help yourself as you run around to the other side of the vehicle and climb into the passenger seat beside Ashley.

"It smells great in here, Ash. I forgot to tell you that last time," you smile as you breathe in the familiar strawberry scent.

"Thank you!" She grins. "Yeah, I really like these car fresheners."

The guys get into the back seat—Sal's in the middle, having climbed in first, to Todd's left, and Larry entering last.

Once the doors are shut and all hands and feet are inside of the car, Ashley shifts gears and gets going. She looks to you, then throws a look over her shoulder toward Sal. "How was detention, troublemakers?"

Your eyebrows furrow, about of stupidity washing over you. Even having discussed this with Larry and Sal only moments ago, you've completely forgotten that they thought you'd attended detention.

"Huh-"

"It was great," Sal cuts in. "We sat for hours and did nothing. A lot of fun."

You come to realization quickly, and look up to meet Sal's eyes in the rearview mirror. He's shaking his head in lighthearted disappointment—a glint of amusement in his blue gaze.

"Yeah," your laugh trails off. "Sal couldn't sit still. It was funny."

You smirk deviously. That was an obvious reference to last night, on the way back to the apartments.

He meets your eyes once again in the mirror in front of you. "Don't bait at me," he warns, but you hear his grin. That's what he'd said when you'd laughed at him last night.

You smirked, shifting in your seat. You smelled cigarette smoke and guessed Larry was smoking again. It doesn't smell regular, though—smells a bit grassy.

"You're fogging up the car, Larry! It'll be your fault if we crash!" Ashley confirms your suspicions as she yells over the sound of rushing wind. He's rolled down the window—it fails to eliminate the smell but clears your line of sight.

"Sorry," he grins around a cigarette. It was nice to see him in a better mood.

"Have any of you decided on the plans for after school?" Todd speaks up for the first time day, absentmindedly fiddling with his flip phone. It's not any of your business, but you wonder who he's texting. Every time you see him, he's playing with his phone.

Larry laughs, pulling the cigarette away from his lips. "No. Thought Sal or Y/N would have some ideas, but they can't even go. They've got detention again."

Ashley looks toward you, awaiting your confirmation.

"We always had detention again. It was a miscommunication.." you trailed off, telling a lie. They didn't know that, though.

You watch Sal fiddle with his rings in the rearview mirror. "It's my fault, really."

You're not sure exactly what he means. He could be talking about the reason you'd even been given detention (attempting to share quiz answers) or maybe he was talking about the fact you'd even ditched detention—because he'd proposed it.

You disliked how easy he was to blame himself. You'd agreed to it.

And it wasn't something you found yourself regretting—not only had you received the pleasure of grinding Sal into oblivion in the driver's seat, but you'd came while you were at it.

Something you did regret, though... was doing that while you were so unsure of yourself—and what exactly it was that he wanted from you.

Not only that, but what did you want from him?

What was this?

"No, not really," you replied, after momentarily zoning out. "I agreed to it—to you... um- giving me those answers, Sal."

You hear his rings clack, keeping your eyes on the road, and on the broken white lines in the middle of the asphalt that pass beneath the car. You assume he's pressed his hands together harshly. "Yeah, well, it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't proposed it."

This conversation wasn't really about test answers, was it?

You hear the crackle of a cigarette. No one else seems to assume anything about the conversation—just two people who refuse to blame the other person.

"The only thing I care about is the fact that you have to deal with the repercussions, Sal. I wouldn't care if it was just me having to do detention."

That shuts him up. He doesn't say anything after that.

"It's okay." You say, one last time.

After that (thank god) Ashley reaches towards the radio and turns to a channel. Heavy metal plays through the speakers—not too loud, though—and although it's a bit unsettling considering your mood, the distraction is welcome.

As soon as you've stepped out of the car in the school's parking lot, you regret the fact you hadn't worn a heavier jacket. The denim jacket is oversized, yes—but it's lightweight and breathable and you can feel the autumn wind fluttering against your skin.

Goosebumps rise on your arms. You involuntarily shiver.

You, Todd, Larry, Sal, and Ashley begin the walk inside of the school. You still smell smoke, and a glance to your left confirms that Larry is still smoking that cigarette.

"A teacher will see," you warn lightly.

"Eh, it'll be alright." He looks at you inquisitively and raises it toward you. When you meet his eyes, they're bloodshot. Your lips part in surprise.

"Are you... high?" Your gaze flickers to the cigarette again. Turns out, it's a joint. Larry is smoking weed. Figures.

He doesn't answer the question. It's not like he has to. Instead, he raises it toward you again, quirking an eyebrow questioningly.

You swallow the thick saliva that had begun to pool in your mouth and look toward the rest of the gang as they continue on.

"Why are you looking over there?" Larry calls you back from your reverie. You look up to meet his blown pupils again. "You don't need anyone's permission. If you want to smoke it, smoke it."

You bit your lip, raising a hand. Your digits twitched as you reached to pluck it from him. As you took the blunt away from his grip, and your fingers brushed, his eyebrows twitched upward.

Nervously, you inhale like you'd done with the cigarette. You don't feel it enter your lungs until you've ripped it away from your lips. You don't want this to go like the first time you'd ever smoked, so you hold it in. Those few moments feel like forever—but eventually, you cough, and allow yourself that relief.

You don't feel high, per se. You've only just smoked it, but it was a big draw, and you're already feeling the effects of lightheadedness.

Your head spins as you absentmindedly drag from it again. You don't realize how long you've been inhaling until lanky fingers have grabbed the blunt from you and pulled it away.

You blink slowly, looking up to Larry in confusion.

"Holy shit," his red eyes widen, before laughing comically. You find yourself giggling as well, experiencing a high that wasn't from weed—but from the rush of trying something forbidden and new.

"You're going to be so fucking high," he laughs again, passing a hand through his hair and looking down to the blunt. "It's... gone."

You can't even remember how long you'd been smoking that shit. How long had you been walking? How far back had Ashley parked?

Conveniently, as he examines the used-up joint, you pass by a green trash bin. He opens the lid and throws the useless blunt inside of it.

A few moments pass as you step onto the concrete leading up to the school. You vaguely feel Larry's large hand gripping your shoulder to steady you. Even though you felt a bit woozy, you remember to keep your hair in place, covering the hickeys Sal had left on your skin.

When you've stepped into the halls, the amount of people walking all around and bumping into you feels a bit overstimulating.

You hoist your bag tighter over your shoulder and follow after your friends. You feel Larry's arm bump into yours every so often, reminding you of his presence.

When you reach your locker, you put your books away, arranging them accordingly, etc. Once you've shut the locker door, hard enough for the cage to rattle—you sort of.. just- stand there. It feels like your consciousness is somewhere completely different, and yet all of this noise feels like too much.

Your heart is beating way too fast and it hurt to stand up straight.

It didn't feel bad—but you'd certainly rather snort salt and pepper than have to function an entire school day like this. You felt way too floaty, like everything was swaying—you honestly couldn't deter up from down.

You don't know where the rest of the gang is, and you're too high to care. You wander down the hall, and continue like that, even when the bell rings and everyone steadily begins to file off and into their respective classes.

Desperate to be alone, and sitting down somewhere, you find a door. It looks like the door handle is growing dust, and there are no signs or labeling on the wood. So you turn the handle and try your luck.

Of course, it's locked. Why else would a school keep an unused room unlocked?

You dig into the denim compartments of your large denim jacket, blinking away the blear in your eyes as you search between the seams at the pit of your pockets. Eventually, you find a stray bobby-pin. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you stick it into the keyhole and wiggle and force it accordingly.

There were multiple reasons you knew how to do this. Your mother used to accidentally lock you out of your previous flats. It wasn't a hobby you'd picked up—it was something you were required to learn. At least, so you wouldn't have to sleep in the hallway at night.

The door eventually gives. When you've entered, you find yourself in a storage room. It makes sense. All of the junk was stored here.

Still high as shit, and becoming a bit nauseous, you close the door behind you. That shuts out any light, and you feel a chill roll over your skin. You couldn't see shit.

You make haste as you reach into your pocket again and rip your flip phone out. You pop it open, and soon enough, your eyebrows raise in surprise. The messages are a bit unclear, but they're visible once you focus.

Sal :) Missed Call (2)

Sal :) where r you?

Sal :) i'm looking for you. class is about to start

Sal :) larry's gone too. you're with him?

Before you type out a reply, you use the phone's light to search the room for a light source of some kind. Eventually, you find a shaded lamp. You feel around for a cord, and once you've found it, you pull a bit. Thankfully, it's already plugged in.. somewhere.

You return your fingers to the lamp itself and turn it on. Soft yellow light fills the dusty room, and you sigh in relief.

You try to disregard the floating dust particles, and sink to the ground, pressing your back against a wide, wooden desk. As you adjust on the floor, the cold tile momentarily presses against your bare thighs. You breathe in sharply, allowing yourself a moment before going to reply to Sal.

You are you in class?

Sal :) No

Sal :) where are you?

You i'm not with Larry. m alone. DK where he is

Sal :) sure he's skipped to smoke. where are you

You allowed yourself to look around the dimly lit room before replying. You swore you felt the dust sticking to your skin, and the skirt hugging your lower half felt too tight.

You shakily breathed in, and then breathed out. You repeated this process, shaky fingers gripping the phone tightly.

You bobby-pinned my way into some storage room i'm sitting on the floor so high rn lol

Sal :) i know where that is. coming rn . it's at the end of a hall, right?

Sal :) what did you smoke?

You blinked slowly, wiggling your thighs back and forth.

You you're correct.

You smoked weed

Before you could comprehend what was even happening, the door directly in front of you had opened. You blinked as white light constricted your pupils before they returned to their expanded state as the silhouette closed the door. While he did that, you reached up to the desk, slid a drawer open, and placed your phone inside of it.

You could've just put it in your pocket. You didn't know why you didn't.

He sunk to the floor in front of you, sitting criss-cross applesauce. His shoes were a breath from yours as you hugged your bare knees tightly. Your lazy eyes followed his movements as he clasped his hands around his ankles. He seemed to be watching your eyes—because when you looked up to make eye contact, he'd already been looking.

"Can barely tell what your eye color is," Sal says nervously. "Your pupils are blown."

"Is' just the dark," you chide softly. "I'm fine. My heart's just beating really fast."

"How much did you smoke?" He asks, his blue eyes—ever vibrant, even in this dingy lighting—searching your face. "Larry gave it to you, right? Jesus.."

You genuinely think about it. It seems you think about it too hard because the room began to rotate.

Maybe that wasn't just the high. You'd fallen onto your side. Luckily, you'd been sitting already—so it was a gentle collide with the cold tile. It felt nice against your cheek. You closed your eyes and watched the floating colors and shapes that look like nerves flash across the backs of your eyelids.

You fully press your side against the floor snuggling into it like it's the softest blanket you've ever slept with.

"Hot," you breathe. "Get this jacket off."

Soon enough, you feel purposeful hands sliding the denim off of your arms. It takes effort to get it off of the arm beneath you, but Sal manages. He balls the jacket up and slides it beneath your head. When your cheek meets the cool denim, you feel at total peace.

"Better," you open your eyes. He's watching your face. You can tell he's concerned, but there's something in his gaze—a look that tells you that he knows he's got this handled. He was confident in himself to take care of you.

He's probably experienced this before.

You roll onto your back, holding your eyes open to look up at the ceiling. Your eyelashes ghost your eyebrows as your imagination forms clouds in the shapes of the floating things you see.

Your skirt rides up your thighs a bit. You don't pay attention to it until you feel Sal's ring-clad fingers gently fixing it for you. You look at his face and smile.

"We need to do it again," you mumble. You don't feel the sickness of the high anymore—only complete clarity.

"Do what?" He asks, curiosity lilting his words.

"What we did in the car."

After those words roll off of your tongue, all that meets you is the intaking of breath. It's so quiet in this storage room that you can hear him licking his lips. You hear shuffling, the clacking of rings, and your breath—and for a moment, you believe he won't say anything back to you.

"I," he starts, swallowing hard. "You.. when do you.."

"How about now?"

You grin, meeting his eyes. He blinks a few times.

"Y/N, I-" he cuts himself off with a breathy laugh. You don't know if he feels nervous—or he just genuinely cannot believe this is happening. You wouldn't blame him, because you can't process it, either.

It's the weed boosting your confidence like this.

Then and again, you'd been confident with him during your first sexual encounter. Maybe the high just amplified that.

"As much as I'd like to," he starts, voice tight, "I don't know how well walking around the rest of the day having... uh— would go. I know it'll happen. We've got detention to sit in, too."

You pouted sadly but accepted it. He didn't want to, and that was fine.

"But, I, um.." his eyes flickered across your face. "I could go down on you."

The words surprised you so much you jerked upward and into an upright position. Your shock had also made you a dumbass, it seemed, as well—because you smacked your head straight into the wooden drawer you'd left open, which you'd put your phone in not even a few minutes ago.

"Ow," you winced, hand reaching up to rub the sore spot.

"Holy shit," Sal says, now closer to you. He closed the drawer (something you should have done way earlier) and blinked down at you. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you breathed, meeting his gaze. "You'd.."

His eyes shifted to the left momentarily. "Yeah. If you don't want me to, that's fine. Your decision. I mean, I have no experience, besides things I've heard before."

You felt a bit giggly all of sudden. Your forehead was pulsing but it was fine. "I can always teach you. I mean, I've never had someone go down on me but I know what feels good."

Sal's demeanor seems a bit nervous as he glances around the storage room. "You want this to happen in here?"

You let out an abrupt laugh, holding your upper body weight on your elbows and arms. "Yes."

He chuckles along with you. "Alright."

Once again, you thank whatever intuition it is you have for swaying you into choosing to wear a skirt again today. You feel Sal's eyes burning holes into your skin as you grip the hem of your skirt and pull the material of your skirt higher on your thighs until it's bunched up at your hips.

His eyes—which, moments ago, were so blue and clear—had now grown a bit darker and looked as though a shadow had been cast over their pretty sheen.

"Did you lock the door when you came in?" You breathed, the ache between your thighs painful as he stares you down.

"I don't think it locks from the inside. We'll have to make it quick."

You're heart's never beat this fast before. And it keeps crashing against your ribs when he slides his fingers up your legs. He pulls your knees away from each other, and shifts so he's a bit farther between your legs.

You watch him slide every silver ring off of his digits, collecting them in a palm and sliding them onto the wooden surface of the desk beside him.

Your blood pumps in your ears so loud you feel like your brain is going to explode. That is, until you feel the pressure of the pads of his fingers right between your thighs, over the fabric that separated his fingertips from the burning heat there. Every other sense diminishes as your entire body focuses on what you'd just felt.

You instinctively gasped, never having been touched so intimately before.

You can tell he's shocked, barely having to glance at his face. You know he's nervous, but you don't believe he has reason to be.

"You're.."

"Wet?" You finish the sentence for him shyly, feeling completely dirty about insinuating something like that out loud. "The fabric is thin, but.."

"I haven't even done anything," he murmurs.

"Yes, you have," you reply, giggling quietly through your chest. "You're torturing me. Get on with it."

His hands shake as he reaches his hands behind his head and unclasps the buckles that hold the prosthetic onto his face. Before you can even take him in, he's turned the lamp above you off.

It's completely dark in the room.

"Can I.."

You know what he means when his hands brush the sides of your thighs. "Yes," you reply, instantly.

Sal hesitates. "Are you sure?"

You smile to yourself. "I am. Are you?"

"Absolutely," he mumbles, hooking his thumbs around the lace of your underwear and pulling it down your legs. You can't hear your heart anymore, thank god—you can only feel it. It beats unmercifully against your ribs as he daintily finishes sliding the fabric off of your body.

Sal barely moves after that. You guess he's put your panties in his pocket.

Before you know it, he's flattened the tip of his middle finger on the place between your legs. You shakily sigh as he barely dips a finger into the place your dampness had collected. He then slides his digit upward, spreading the wetness up and through your slit.

You know what he's doing—preparing you for what's to come—but you can't help it when his touch ghosts your clit. It takes a lot of self-control not to clamp your thighs around his hand—so you hold yourself back with a whine.

Sal stops when you make the sound, but his touch remains. "There?" He asks lowly—like now you're more at risk at being caught. There's no way, though. When you'd picked the lock, the doorknob seemed like it hadn't been used in forever.

"Yes," you whisper, barely lifting your hips to press into his hand. He uses more fingers this time—passing them through your wetness again. Eventually, he makes it back to that bundle of nerves, and gently circles it. You feel your gut tumble as he presses on it just eight.

"God, please," you sigh, settling on your back and raising a hand to grip at your hair. "Sal, I want-"

"Okay," he murmurs. You hear shuffling, feel him move. You know he's lower when his hair tickles the flesh between your thighs.

His breath fans over the apex of your thighs. You'd expect breath of this proximity to be hot—but it's cold and feels minty. It makes sense. That's how he smells—and whenever you'd kissed him last night, that's how he'd tasted.

What broke you from your musing was the feeling of his warm tongue flat on your sex. You throw your head back, dropping your jaw. You'd been waiting this whole time for that feeling—and now you'd gotten it.

Your skull feels like it's rattling (you had just thrown your head back and into the hard flooring) but you disregard that and focus on everything else.

"F-fuck," you stutter, as he rolls his tongue up and over your clit. You knew his memory was basically photographic—but you didn't realize he'd be able to find that spot every time.

He flicks his tongue over your clit in a way he hadn't been like he was experimenting. And it worked because you'd cried out and reached between your thighs to grip his blue hair.

He pulls away from your sex, exhales cool air onto the junction of your thighs and pants. "Gonna need to be quiet," he reminds you, his voice thick.

"I'm sorry," you swallow, before feeling him duck back down.

You shiver in anticipation as his mouth closes over the slope of your inner thigh, sucking onto your skin. You whine as he nibbles your flesh, barely closing his teeth over it before pulling away and returning to what he'd left.

Your spine arches off of the painfully hard floor as he closes his lips over your cunt again, flattening his tongue again and rolls it upward and back into his mouth.

It's not like he has a technique—he's just reacting to your reactions.

Your eyes are watery and fill with tears as you close them too tightly. Your fingers interlace with his hair, gripping close to his scalp and pulling just a bit. He hums in acknowledgment against your clit, and you feel that coil that had been steadily tightening in your gut began to tighten excruciatingly.

"Close," you breathe. "Please. Gonna cum."

Surely enough, he smiles into you, passes his tongue through your slit one last time before flicking it over your clit, and with purpose. He feels your legs spasm against his shoulders, so he flattens his tongue over the bundle of nerves.

That's when that coil in the deepest pit of your stomach unraveled.

"I'm coming," you whined. The feeling stuttered, you felt like you were teetering off of a cliff before it finally crashed over your body and through you harder than anything you've ever felt before.

He rode you through your orgasm—and it was hard not to clamp your thighs around his head.

"Fuck," your legs twitched as you came down, sighing as he pulled away from your sex. He panted, taking in the air quickly, before reaching up and turning the lamp on.

You met his eyes, pressing your thighs together as they shook.

"Oh my god," you exhaled, allowing yourself to soak in your shock. You watched him lick his lips before passing the back of his hand over them.

Sal seemed a bit lost for words himself. "Was that- um.."

You sat up—hiking your skirt back down with one hand while catching him by the nape of the neck with the other. You captured his mouth with yours, kissing him with fervor and want and appreciation. It took less than a second for him to reciprocate.

You didn't care if you could taste yourself on his tongue—it didn't matter much. It wasn't even bad, thank god.

After passing your tongue over his lip, you pulled away, eyes wide with shock. "I should.."

"I know what you're going to say," he cut you off, reaching into his back pocket with a smile. He hands you his underwear, and you close it in your fist. "And I'm alright. We've spent way too much time in here, anyway."

Your knee accidentally nudges between his thighs. Of course, he's hard. He was a teenage boy and he'd just made a girl come in a dingy old classroom at school during class. You felt bad.

"Another time." It's not a question. You're promising it to him.

"I.. okay." He murmurs, nervous in a way he hadn't been when he'd been eating you out moments before.

You watch him slide his rings back on, buckle his prosthetic back onto his face—and pretend not to notice how he adjusts himself as he stands up. You slide your denim jacket back on, slide your panties up your legs, and move to stand. You nearly fall back down when your legs spasm.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern dripping off of his low voice.

"Fine. A little shaky," you breathe, gripping his arms and rising to your feet. You let go of him a few beats later and move toward the door. You forget your phone, but Sal grabs it for you and slides it into your pocket.

And as the both of you go to leave, you think about how the rest of the day will play out.

[127-mile]

Pairing : demon!Jaehyun x fem!reader.

Genre : demon!au / yandere-ish!au / fluff, angst, mature content.

Warnings : This is not what a normal loving relationship is like, this is a work of fiction. fingering (fem. receiving) unprotected sex (kids, please be smart) coming inside. non sexual choking. mention of deaths. explicit (kind of, it’s pretty soft) and non explicit deaths. blood. alcohol consumption. mention of drugs. manipulation. toxic relationship.

Word count : +10.1k.

Plot : Instead of having a guardian angel, you have a guardian demon. His methods are often more violent, but they are more straight forward. What does he have that the regular guardians don’t ? An obsession. You.

You didn’t think being assigned to a demon was a simple mistake, do you ?

A/N : This is part of the Halloween collab made by the incredible @neo-cult-ure. We had to choose a song, mine is Kill for you by Zolita.

Taglist : @plump-peach​ / @crtznstuff​ / @kriselynne​ / @yourmagnanimousholiness​ / @soothingjae​ / @peachjaem00​ / @chanslaptopp​ / @luvlyjaemin​ / @jeongyoonohs​ / @junghoe​ / @nakayutasama​ / @ddaawwnn7​

"Say my name." the voice in your ear is hoarse, and it echoes in your head. You feel the man's hands along your arms, and his fingers leave a scorching trail in their paths. "Say my name." he repeats one more time, and you make the mistake of opening your eyes. What you see is not human, the eyes are red, deep and empty of any kind of humanity, you see yourself in the void. "Say my name, and I will show you wonders that humans can only dream of." His voice is urgent, and though you are thinking, you can not remember his name.

The weight of the man's body against yours is both agonizing and reassuring, you must be losing your mind, and he is the reason. His voice, his perfume -a mixture of burnt wood, and something irresistible that you are unable to describe- and the power of his gaze from which you can't take your eyes off. "Come on, my sweet love, say my name." a shiver runs down yuor body, and you arch your back off the bed when you feel the man's tongue running down your throat, and god, you cant to feel more. He is more addicting than any drug you have ever tried.

The window is open, you can feel the cool breeze on your bare body and yet, it feels like you are burning from the inside. Drops of sweat pearl at your hairline. You open your mouth, but no words come out, only an embarrassing moan as the man's teeth pierce through the skin of your neck, but you don't have time to think about the pain because his tongue soothes the wound right away.

Once again, you find yourself unable to move, or to think and the man sits up but you refuse to meet his gaze once more, too afraid to lose yourself in his eyes. To lose yourself completely. "Until I met you, I was convinced that angels were the only creatures capable of such beauty, but you proved me wrong. They should be ashamed to show themselves when you exist, my love."

His voice is suddenly painful, and you feel your heart twist. Maybe it was a trick, because you open your eyes without hesitation, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better. But all you see is a smile. A bloody smile. "If you don't say my name, I'm going to have to force you to say it. It would be a shame to see your pretty tongue being ripped out, don't you think ?" his voice is cold now, as cold as the fingers he wraps around your throat. "Say it !"

Fear, you feel nothing but fear. But what are you afraid of ? To have offended him, or to die ? You do not know. Your breathing is getting slower, and your field of vision is darkening until you can see nothing but darkness, and feel nothing but the cold. Everything is cold, so so cold.

You open your eyes, a sudden coughing fit waking you up fully. Your eyes are full of tears running down your sleep-swollen cheeks and your lips taste metallic, you must have bitten them during the night. You put your hands around your neck where you thought you would still feel the pressure of the stranger's fingers, but nothing.

Your lungs are burning, and you sit up to catch your breath. It's long, and rather difficult but you get there. The room is only illuminated by the rays of sunshine passing through the curtains, and all you see are the small particles of dust flying around the room. Then, your gaze falls on something. Or someone, and a cry broken by your aching throat escape your lips.

As fast as it arrived, the shadow vanishes and you shake your head. You have barely woken up from a terrible dream, your mind is only playing tricks on you, nothing more.

"What the fuck..." you mumble, running your fingers through your hair. You feel the drops of sweat running down your spine, and you don't waste a minute getting out of bed. A cold shower will do you the most good, you think, heading to the only bathroom. Under the jet of water, you think about your dream. The man's touch seemed so real that if you focus you can still feel the burn from his fingers.

It's not the first time you had a dream with this man, it's not the first time he's asked you to say his name, but it's the first time he's become threatening, and scary. You sigh, and come out of the water after rising your hair. In the mirror, you notice a mark on your neck, and you walk closer with a frown. "What ?" the mark vaguely resembles a bite. Right where the man bit you. But it can only be a coincidence, right ? Maybe you did this to yourself during the night.

You come out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around your chest. When you enter the room, you have the unpleasant feeling of being watched. Yet when you turn, you see nothing but the mirror hanging from the door. You are going crazy, there is no other explanation. If your mother was there, she would tell you that it was the fault of your excessive consumption of caffeine.

You sit on the edge of the bed, and the drops of water flowing from the tips of your hair mix with the perspiration. Since when your room has become this hot ? The summer is coming to an end, you should not be suffocating.

You forget all about the heat when you feel something on your shoulder, but once again, when you turn around, nothing. Maybe you should have listened to Kun when he adviced you, and Ten, not to use a ouija board in the apartment without reading the instructions first. Maybe you called something malicious, and you are going to get possessed ? At least the thought helps you calm your heart pouding in your chest before breaking into a fit of giggle. Crazy.

The front door swings open, and you stop laughing immediately. You hear the sound of shoes swinging against the drawer and get up from the bed. You do not have time to go to the door because it opens on Ten, he is breathless. "I'm going to die. It's too hot !" he yells, before falling on the bed. Sweat made his blonde hair stick to his forehead, and you resist the temptation to pull them back. "I think the aircon is broken." you mumble while Ten nods.

"I tried to turn it on this morning, but nothing, so I went to the neighbords and they are having trouble with theirs too. I think it's the end Y/n." you roll your eyes, biting your lower lip. "By the way, did you bring someone back last night ?" he asks, sitting up on his elbows.

"What ? Of course not!" one of the rules of the roommates is not to bring anyone home without telling the other so that they can find someone to keep them for the night. "Eh, don't like, I heard you talking with someone." you shake your head, you didin't bring anyone back last night.. well not that you remember. "Maybe I was on the phone ?" the question is not for Ten, but for you. Because now that you think about it, you have no memories of the day before.

You came home from work, yes, but the rest ? You do not know. You went to bed, since you woke up in your sheets and in pajamas, but nothing else. "Are you okay ?" Ten asks in a worried voice, and you nod. "Yeah, I think I'm just tired from work." Ten doesn't look convinced, but there is nothing more he can do. "Yeah, well, you should take is slow. Have some rest."

Finally, Ten gets up from the bad and walks out of the bedroom. You take the opportunity to put on light clothes. You could've just stayed naked, but that is not possible with Ten in the apartment. You do not need to go to work today, and with the heat, you don't plan on going out, so you lie in bed, your eyes on the ceiling. You need some explanation about yesterday, about your dream, and the bite mark on your neck, but for now, you also need some rest.

"You know, if you want to see me, you just have to say my name, it's not that hard." the voice is back, and you feel an unpleasant chill going down your spine. You sit up in bed and notices that is is now dark, you must have slept for several hours. You are alone in the room, and yet, the voice sounded so close, as if the man was lying next to you. "Who is here ?" you ask in a trembling voice.

You do not expect any answer, that's why when a small laugh echoes in the room, you stop moving. "You should know that." the voice responds, and you wonder if you aren't just sleeping and having a vivid dream since they seem to be more and more frequent lately. "I've been following you for a while." the voice resumes calmly, and you blink.

"Haven't you ever had the feeling of being watched, of being followed wherever you go ?" you nod. "It's me. It's always been me. I'm always with you. It's my job after all." his work ? You are lost, and he seems to feel it as he picks up. "Say my name, and you'll understand, everything will me so much easier, I promise."

You frown, but why is he so insistent ? You do not even know his damn name. "Are you there because of the ouija board ?" you ask in a small voice, and the laughter that escapes from the void gives you goosebumps. "The ouija board ? My angel, this is only material, you can't call anything through a simple wooden board, especially not me." you suddenly feel stupid for asking the question, but you had to know.

"Your name.." you whisper. "how am I supposed to know it ?" you feel the mattress dips under an invisible weight and you culd up on yourself. "I've told you my name, so many times, but you don't listen. I'll make you remember it this time." you feel a warm breath on your face, and a pression against your lips. But before you can react, the ghostly touch slides down your neck, and the pain is the same as in her previous dream when he bit you. Except this time, it's not pleasure that you feel, but real pain.

"Open your eyes, and you'll have the answer you're looking for." at these words, a sharp pain makes you open your mouth, wide, as if one had just plunged your arm in boiling water. You try to scream but no sound comes out, the pain is too much, you are already losing all of your senses, you can feel your limbs going numb, and once again, the darkness sunrrounds you.

When you open your eyes, you are in bed, and the room is still illuminated by the sun through the curtains. You look at your alarm clock, and notice that you have barely dozed off ten minutes. You rub your eyes, your eyelids are heavy, you have the impression of waking up from a very long nap. It takes a good minute for you to come back to your senses, and when you turn your head, your gaze stops on a mark on your arm.

Not a mark. A name.

A name is like engraved in your flesh on several centimeters. You hiss when you run your fingers over the wounds, it's perfectly healed and yet so painful. You read the name a few times but do not dare to say it out loud, you are afraid of the consequences. You pull yourself out of bed with difficulty and leave the room. You have no choice, you can't keep it to yourself any longer, you need to talk about it, and Ten will have no choice but to listen to you.

You find him in the leaving room, lying on the floor, fanning himself with an old magazine. "Ten.." your voice must be shaky because Ten immediately straightens up, and he stands up when he sees you holding your arm. His first thought is that you fell out of bed and broke your arm, but when he cotices the lines of your skin, he stops. "What is that ?" you shrug, and when he approches, you whine for him not to touch.

"Jae.." you shake your head vigorously; "Don't say it, please." you are ready to beg for him to remain silent, but he shuts his mouth before you have the chance to do so. He takes your free hand and directs you to the sofa when you sit. He takes a seat on the coffee table opposite and looks at the name over and over again. "It's weird." Ten looks calm, unlike you. You are clearly panicking. You heart is hammering in your chest, and soon, you can feel the tears runinng down your cheeks. You didn't even know you were on the verge of crying until now.

"Hey, don't cry, it's fine." Ten whispers, cupping your face in his hands so his eyes meet yours. He reads nothing but confusion and fear. "What's wrong with me Ten ?" your voice breaks his heart, so low and quavering. "Seems to be your.. your guardian ?" you tilt your head, urgning Ten to continue. "Our guardian angel. They manifest themselves when they feel that we need help. But they are here long before, they are always near us to be sure that they can help us even is we cannot see or feel them. Saying their name is the only way to make them appear, but- but it's never like that."

He's talking about the mark on your arm, you know it. Ten had a visit from his guardian angel when he was barely 15, because he needed it, and he doesn't have any irreversible marks on his skin, and he's not traumatized by the experience, unlike you. "Guardian angels aren't meant to hurt you, it's quite the opposite." the more he talks, the more you feel lost. Why you ? What avec you done in your previous life to receive such treatment ? "Maybe there was a mistake, and you got a demon instead of an angel." Ten is kidding, but that simple thought could answer so many of your questions.

"But- but what if it was true ? What is if it was a demon ?" you ask, and Ten shakes his head. "If it was a possibility, don't you think we would know ?" you don't want to think about the possilibities of why you've never heard of this kind of thing, so you sigh, lowering your head. "Until we know more, don't say the name, and try to clear your mind of all this, okay ?" You nod, it's not like you have any other choice. 

The following days are alike for you, except for the growing sensation of being watched and followed wherever you go. You try somehow not to look at your arm, but it's difficult. It's like a magnet. After the fifth day, you walk through the apartment door with a long sigh, it's been a long day. Ten is absent, he warned you that he would spend the evening with some of his childhood friends. Perfect.

You put your things in the bedroom, and you walk to the living room to settle on the sofa. You turn on the television, not to watch it, but to have some backgroun noises, and you look at your arm. What's the worst that could happen ? You shrug, and take a deep breath. "Jaehyun." you whisper, and when you see that nothing is happening, you speak in a louder voice. "Jaehyun."

The television turns off, and the lights flicker around you. You grab a pillow, as if it would help protect yourself in the event of a sudden attack from the stranger. "Jaehyun." you repeat one last time, and a shape begins to materialize in front of the sofa. The man's face is the last to appear, and yes, that's the face you've seen so much in your dreams. He watches you curiously, his head tilted to the side. He doesn't seem to believe that you can finally see him, that you finally called his name.

"You did it, you said my name." he says in a voice that's more softer that what you were expecting and walk over. If the sofa wasn't glued to the wall, you would've gone over it to escape. But when he sees your reaction, he throws both hands in the hair. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to do anything to you." his voice is meant to be comforting, and you get up from the sofa to observe him, not without letting go of your trusty cushion.

"You said if I said your name, I would understand everything. Explain yourself, because I feel like I'm going crazy." Jaehyun feels the weakness in your voice, and he blames himself for it, but he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't stay away from you any longer. Being near you is a vital need for the demon. "Calm down, I'll tell you everything." he sits down on the armchair, his legs crossed like a child. With a nod of his heads, he bids you to take a seat, and you obey.

"I must warn you immediately that I don't have the answer you are looking for. I don't know why you were assigned to a demon, and not an angel." if you had knows that you wouldn't get the answer to the question you deem the most important, you wouldn't have called his name. But you'll listen to him, and you'll see if you can send him back eventually. "All I know is that I've been following you for a very long time, and that I would never hurt you."

The demon has a soft voice, but that doesn't stop you from not believing those words. "You tried to kill me the other day, in my dream." Jaehyun shakes his head, a thin smile on his face. Speaking of his face, you notice that he is very handsome with pretty dimples making him look almost childish. He looks like an angel. "It's not what you think, you had to wake up, and you had to say my name." He gets up, and walks over to you. "I promise you, that will never happen in real life. You are under my protection, and nothing will ever happen to you. "

He was right, nothing happened to you.

When you say nothing happened to you, nothing happened to you at all. Your life was already not very exciting, so with the arrival of the young demon, it became even worse. The boys who dare to approch you are quickly sent away because of Jaehyun who does not seem to appreciate their presence around you. Even Ten doesn't spend as much time with you as he used to, and it hurts.

"Why are you ignoring me ?" you ask, dropping down on the sofa next to Ten who doesn't take his eyes off his phone. He shrugs, and you frown. "Tell me, what did I do wrong ? I miss you." you whisper, and Ten sighs before putting down his phone. Well, hetting his attention is a success, now the conversation. "It's your little dog. He follows you everywhere, it's impossible to have a moment with you without him showing up and threatening to smash my knees."

You shake your head. "What are you talking about ? Jaehyun has never threatened to smash your knees, he is not threatening anyone, he just want to make sure I'm safe." Ten's laughter is cold, and extremely sarcastic. "Please, this is not protection, this is unhealthy possessiveness." Ten sits cross-legged and watches you. "Jaehyun does everything in his power to keep people away from you, Y/n, including me, yet god knows I wouldn ever hurt you."

At the simple mention of his name, the demon appears in the living room. Ten jolts, and winces at the burning smell that seems to follow Jaehyun everywhere he does, but you are used to it. Jaehyun frown as he walks over to the sofa where he looks at the two of you. Seeing you together created something very unpleasant in his chest. Jealousy, yes, that's it. "What is going on ?" he asks, and you are always surprised to hear how much his tone of voice changes when he is not talking to you. From soft and soothing, his voice becomes cold and as sharp as a knife.

"Nothing, nothing is going on !" Ten growns as he gets up from the sofa. He could confront the demon about his behavior, but he doesn't want to do it in front of you. So he walks around him, looking at him with utter disgust, and he locks himself in his room, slamming the door on the way. "Did I do something wrong ?" Jaehyun asks, sitting down next to you, his head tilted. He looks innocent, but he is not, he's so far from being innocent. Even though you've never seen him hurt anyone, you know he's done it before, and can do it at any moment.

Yes, you learned to appreciate Jaehyun, but that doesn't stop you from knowing deep down that demons are up to no good most of the time.

"Ten told me you threatened to harm him." you say, and Jaehyun tenses up, but only for a second before he regains his composure. "What ? But why would I do something like this ! He doesn't like me, he's just looking for a reason to get rid of me." he mumbles, and you do not answer.

"What are you doing ?" Jaehyun's voice startle you, you didn't expect to see him in the bathroom doorway, watching you. "What are you doing here ? Shouldn't you be taking a bath in hell or something ?" Jaehyun is used to that kind of little mean jokes, especially when you are tired, so he choose to not respond. "Are you going out ? Where are we going ?" he asks with the excitement of a child, and you turn to him, shaking your head.

"I'm going out. You stay here." You explain, but it doesn't suit Jaehyun whose expression turns sour. "No, no, I'm coming with you. I can't leave you alone." you sigh. "The goal of a guardian is to give advice, to be sure that we are making the right decisions, not to follow up wherever we go." you mumble. It is not right that Jaehyun is everywhere with you. He has to protect you, yes, you understand tha part, but it's getting too much, he is invasible and you are suffocating.

"I'm not like other guardians." he growls, and you fold your arms accross your chest, looking at the demon's reflection in the mirror. You are too tired to argue. "I'm not asking for you opinion, Jaehyun you stay here while I go out. I don't need to have you glued to my ass."

You will later learn that you should never have said that.

Jaehyun was absent for the following days.

No matter how much you called his name over and over, he never answered. Even the feeling of being followed and watched stopped, and for a moment, you wondered if you had scared the demon away. And you got used to your new daily life very well. You shouldn't have.

Earlier in the evening, you were persuaded by Ten to joing him at a party organized by several of his co-workers to celebrate his promotion. Normally you would've stayed home to red, but tonight, you wanted to have fun. And it is for this reason that you currently find yourself pressed against the wall of a room of which you don't know the owner, kissing a boy of who you are not sure to have understood the name. Joe ? John ? Johnny ? You do not know, you couldn't hear it with the hubbub of the guests and the music.

You close your eyes when you feel the boy's hands slip under your t-shirt. His fingers are cold, which contrasts with your burning skin. "Coming was a great idea." he whispers close to your ear, his warm breath making you shiver softly. His lips slide down your neck for warm, and wet kisses, and you take the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and remode the button that holds his hean in place. With your foot, you slide it down until it falls loose around his ankles, so yuo can have access to the obvious tent in his briefs.

You stroke his cock through the fabric, and you smile as he tenses, his breath hitching against your throat. Your mouth open with a loud moan when you feel Johnny's teeth dig nto the skin between your neck and shoulder. The pain is extremely pleasant, and you press harder against his dick. "You are so hot." you smile, and play with the waistband of his brieds, snapping it against the skin of his hip. "So I've been told."

Soon, Johnny's lips are back on yours, and you can taste the alcohol he drank earlier, and he you had been drinking more than you had smoked, you would find it nice, but for now, the mix is pretty disgusting. Johnny breaks the kiss to catch his breath, and you looks into his eyes as you slowly pulls down his underwear. You frown when he opens his eyes wide, and before you can move, he is thrown back and slumped against the opposite wall.

"What the fuck!" you whisper when your gaze lands on Jaehyun. His eyes have nothing beautiful anymore, they are dark and frightening, like in your dreams. His breathing his heavy and rapid, he is enraged, you call feel it in the tense atmosphere of the room. "Jaehyun, what have you done !" you say when you finally come out of your torpor. As if he had just noticed your presence, Jaehyun turns to you and.. and he smiles. "I'm protecting you, my love."

"He was not hurting me !" you walk around the demon to join Johnny whose eyes are closed. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, you can see the blood streaming down his forehead. "Hey, hey, can you hear me ?" you asks. You are about to put your hand on him to shake him when Jaehyun grabs your wrist to force you on your feet. "He was going to hurt you, I felt it!" he says.

You try to extricate yourself from his grip, but he's much stronger. He pulls you against his chest, the heat emanating from his skin is strong, and he puts an arm around your waist to make you you do not move. "You can't trust them, Y/n, I'm the only one who'll never hurt you." His lips are close to yours, and like his body, his breath his hot.

Love ? You didn't know that a demon was capable of feeling anything like love. And why you ? What do you have more than other humans ? "Do you remember what I told you in your dream ?" He asks and you tilt your head, trying to remember. "I told you that I would show you wonders that humans can only dream of. And I will, but for that, you have to stay with me. You have to trust me."

You bite the inside of your cheek. Jaehyun is the dream boy. And when he behaves like a random human, you forget everything. But it is not an average boy you have in front of you, no, it's a demon, and yet..

"Is it true ?" you ask, and he frowns. "Do you really love me ?" he nods. "I love you, more than anyone will ever be able to love you." when he feels your fingers on his face, he smiles so fondly that he looks like a real angel. After all, demons are angels too, they just chose to follow a different god, you think.

"What are we going to do ?" you ask, glancing down at Johnny's limp body and Jaehyun sighs, annoyed at being cut off during such an intimate moment he's been waiting for. "I'll take care of it, you should go home." finally, he releases his hold on your waist, and you take a step back. You retrive your jacket that Johnny had thrown on the bed on entering the room, and you turn one last time when you open the door.

Jaehyun is hunched over Johnny's body, and if you weren't so confused by the whole situation and inebriated, you could swear you saw a red glow shine in the demon's eyes. You shake your head, and leave, closing the door behind you. In the hallway, you meet a guest who is about to open the bedroom door. "If I were you, I wouldn't go in there. Someone threw up, it's not pretty." the person, a boy with long blond hair growls and turns around. "Fuck, I saw no one in the fucking bedrooms."

You find Ten in the crowd, glass in hand, so you make you way to your roommate. You put a hand on his shoulder and lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm not feeling well, I'm going home." he nods, before answering. "You want me to come with you ?" you refuse, explaining that it was his evening, he should take advantage of it and have fun. You promise to send him a message when you get home, and with that, you leave the house.

You take a deep breath when you step outside. The air is cold, and rain is starting to fall, just what you needed to cool your burning skin. You look at Ten's car parked in the driveway, and sigh when you realize you'll have to walk.

It is while walking in a dark alley of the city that you begin to regret the sensation of being watched from afar that Jaehyun gives you, because even if you have never admitted it, you feel safe. But now, you can't feel a thing, and you keep looking over your shoulder to make sure you are not being followed. But it must be your lucky day, because you arrive in front of your apartment in one piece, without having had any altercation with a drunk person.

The partment is empty, and silent.

You walk to the bedroom, and get rid of your wet clothes that smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. You pull on a hoodie you find on the back of your office chair, and sit on the edge of your bed. All alone with your thoughts, you force yourself not to think of Johnny, and his inert body. You don't even know if he was still alive when you left, and what will Jaehyun do ? Is he going to call an ambulance ? Pass it off as an alcohol-related accident ?

You start to shake, your eyes filling with tears, you shouldn't have left, you should have helped Johnny. A sob escapes your lips, and it is at this precise moment that you feel a touch on your hands which are placed on your thighs. The contact is warm, and though you are still alone, you know it's Jaehyun. It's always Jaehyun.

"Jaehyun ?" you ask in a small voice, and you expect him to appear, but the touch on your hands disappears. After several unanswered attempts, you give up and slip under the blanket. You fall asleep in a few minutes, lulled by the sounds of the traffic outside.

You open your eyes when you hear movement near you. A form is watching over you next to the bed. "Jaehyun". you whisper, and feel a warm hand on your cheek. "You came back." your voice is full of sleep, and you push yourself on the side to make room for the demon. You have never invited him to bed, so he hesitates for a moment before lying down next to you. You lay your head on Jaehyun's chest. Is it because of the fatigue ? Alcohol ? Or the heat he gives off ? You don't know. You apprently lose the power of knowledge when the demon is around.

You feel the demon tighten, so you put a hand on his stomach. "I thought you weren't coming back, like the last few days." Jaehyun has to bend down to hear your voice, it's so low, and when he understands, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry I didn't come back." you shrug looking up at him. "I missed you, that's all."

The demon chuckles, and runs his thumb over your lower lip. "Pretty mouth tells dirty lies." he whispers, and you shake your head, sitting up. "You do not believe me ?" his lack of response is sufficient for you to understand.

You do something you never thought you would do, you kiss him softly. But the contact is quickly broken by Jaehyun who watches you in the half-light, incredulous. "Why did you do that ?" you sigh, you don't know yourself, but you still open your mouth. "You love me, right ? More than anyone can ever love me ?" when he nods, you kiss him once more, and he responds this time. If at the beginning the kiss was slow and gentle, it become a little more passionate, more feverish.

"Come on, you need to sleep, you've had a hell of a day." Jaehyun whispers against your lips, and you sigh. You lie down appropriately, and Jaehyun pulls you to his chest. It's strange to hear a heart beat in the chest of a demon, but you close your eyes. Yes, you had an exhausting day.

After this evening, the relationship between you and your demon changed considerably. If before you did everything possible to get rid of him, now you no longer seem capable to go a minute without him near you. Whether it's by being there, or just a reassuring presence. And Jaehyun is delighted. That's what he always wanted, to be there for you, and with you as much as he wants. For the first time since he first saw you, he no longer feels that nasty pressure in his chest when he sees you getting close to a boy, or when he can't be with you. He feels light, and free.

This morning, when he wakes up, he feels a weight on his hips. He opens his eyes groaning at the bright light in the room, but when his gaze lands on you, he smiles. He puts his hands on your waist, and you lean in to kiss him. Jaehyun wonders how you always tastes sweet, but he is not complaining, it's enjoyable, and addicting. Everything is addicting when it comes to you.

"What did I do to deserve such a sweet treat ?" he asks after breaking the kiss, and he chuckles softly when you case his lips with a pout. "You have to answer my question first if you want another treat." Jaehyun's hands slide under your sleeping shirt, and you shiver slightly. "Can you still manipulate my dreams ?" the demon remains silent for a while, but his smile is worth a thousand words. "Why, did you dream of something special ?" he asks, and you bite your bottom lip.

You lean down, nestling your face in the crook of his neck. He smells like sleep, and you. "I dreamed that you made me scream your name. That you kept telling me that I was yours, and that you would do everything in you power to stay close to me."

Jaehyun nods every now and then, and his smile growns. It's almost carnivorous the way he smiles. "That's exactly what I would do, if I could manipulate your dreams, of course." he answers, and you sit up. "Oh, so you didn't ?" he shakes his head, and you roll your eyes. You know he is lying, so you intend to make him pay. It is extremely unpleasant and frustrating to wake up from a wet dream. You buck your hips, and the demon groans weakly.

He opens his eyes, and you can see lust growing in that dark and frightening void. "If you haven't manipulated my dream, maybe you should show me if you are able to do that in real life." he smirks, and flip you onto the bed of hover over you. You laugh softly, pressing your hand to your mouth, it's too early to wake up Ten. "That's what we're not going to do." Jaehyun whispers, grabbing your wrist to pull it off your mouth. "I want to hear you. I want to hear every sound you make, my love."

He places a tender kiss on your lips, and he slides his lips down your neck. He repeatedly bites the skin of your collarbone, and then your throat. He loves your throat for some reason. Your hands rest in Jaehyun's hair, and when he looks up to ask permission to remove the t-shirt he's been playing with the hem of, you nod. The piece of tissue ends up on the floor. He kisses your chest, and he slowly moves down to your stomach, never lifting his lips from your hot skin.

He lowers the waistband of your pants, and he kisses your hips, he's soft, so far from what you have been expecting. You squirm with each of his kisses, and you feel so wet, it's embarrassing. "Can I ?" he asks, and you nod vigorously. He laughs at your eagerness, and he pulls down your pants and panties and the same time. They join your shirt on the floor. You suddenly feel very shy, and all you want is to curl up. Jaehyun myst feel the change in your behavior because he looks up.

"Do you want us to stop ?" you shake your head, and urge him to come back up, which he does immediately. When he kisses you, you circle his waist with your legs, your hands already working to remove his pants. He's already half hard, and you lick his lips. You could make this last for hours, but you really need to have him inside of you as soon as possible. Hell foreplay.

"You are so perfect." he whispers, and you slide your hand over his cock. You use the precum that has built up on the tip to stroke it slowly. Jaehyun lets his head fall in the crook of your neck, and his hot breath hits against your shivering skin. You're already sweating, and so is Jaehyun, yet you haven't done anything. You continue the movements of your hand until he is completely hard, following one of the veins with the tip of your index, and it is the turn of the demon's hand to find itself between your thighs. You bite Jaehyun's lips as his fingers spread your folds to collect the slick on the pad of his fingers.

For a moment -much too short- he plays with your clit with the tips of his fingers, and soon one of them is rubbing against your hole. Slowly, far too gently, he eases his first finger inside, and you moan weakly. "Come on, please .." you whisper, you do not know what you're asking for, but your brain is already turning into mush. It's Jaehyun's fault, his warmth, his scent, his hands, everything. He adds a second finger, then moves slowly back and forth, watching for any of your reactions.

When he crooks his fingers, and he reaches that little bundle of nerves that makes you roll your eyes and moan his name, he adds a third finger, and he speeds up, his thumb on your clit. "Stop stop, it's enough." you mumble, and Jaehyun withdraws his fingers. You whine at the feeling of emptiness, but is soon replaced by the head of Jaehyun's cock. He spits into his hand to lubricate his cock before returning to his original position. He puts his hands on either side of your face, caging you. And slowly, very slowly, he eases himself inside.

"You are so tight." you close your eyes, arching your back off the bed when he bottoms out you feel the bones of his hips flush against your ass, and you refrain from not whining to make him move. You spent the past few weeks blatantly ignoring Jaehyun, and now you are acting like you're going to die if he doesn't fuck you within a minute. "Move, please."

Jaehyun pulls out until only the head is still inside, and he snaps his hips. "Oh fuck." he growls. His voice is deep, and sultry, and it makes your head spin. You wrap your arms around his neck, and pulls his face to yours for a long kiss, it's only teeth and tongue but you don't care. The pace of his thrusts is fast, and you grip Jaehyun's hair between your fingers. He moans lowly at the pain, and it's a sound you don't think you can get enough of.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun ..” you mewl when he snaps his hips a little harder. You let your legs drop from around his waist, and you already feel that familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach. You want to reach your climax as much as you want this moment to last forever. You grip his biceps, and when he gives a rather deep thrust, you dig your nails into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Black blood.

Jaehyun curses under his breath, and you close your eyes. You who didn't want to wake Ten up know it was a waste of time, between your moans, Jaehyun's growls and the bed banging against the wall. Poor guy, he might give you a piece of his mind later, but you don't have time to think about it, too busy getting lost in pleasure. His rhythm is erratic, he must be close to his orgasm too.

"Are you going to cum for me, my princess?" he asks, and you nod. Jaehyun bites the skin of your neck, once more, and that's enough to make you black out. You see nothing, and hears nothing more than the beating of your heart and Jaehyun saying over and over that you are his, and only his. "I will never let anyone approach or hurt you. Mine."

When you regain consciousness Jaehyun is still inside you, but his movements are slow, coming down from his high. Your thighs are shaking, and you are sticky with sweat. Jaehyun lies on top of you, being careful not to crush you with his weight, and you run your hands on his back to stroke his burning skin. "It was good, so good." you whisper and he nods.

You remain silent, both far too busy coming back on earth after a mindblowing orgasm.

"I hate you !" the voice comes from the next room, Ten's. And you look at each other before laughing softly. Jaehyun comes out, and you scrunch your nose up at the feeling of emptiness, and at the sticky cum sliding down your thighs. "I'm tired." you mumble in a sleepy voice. You do not know what Jaehyun does next, all you know is that when you open your eyes a little later, Jaehyun is behind you, your legs are tangled, and his breathing is regular. You go back to sleep peacefully after that.

"You fucked a demon."

This is not what you expected when you left your room this morning. Your legs are numb, and your neck is painful from Jaehyun's many bites. Ten is on the couch, his laptop poised precariously in his lap. "I fucked a demon." you repeat, sitting down next to him.

"I didn't think you could fall so low." he says with a sigh, and you turn your gaze to Ten with a frown. You have had one-night stands with various kind of students students, and he never had the nerve to make that kind of comment. It's strange coming from Ten, but after all he's right, he's a demon, not just some stupid college student who sells drugs to pay for his porn's subscriptions.

"Oh, don't be like that Ten." you sigh, and he shrugs, refocusing on his computer. After a minute or two, you nudge him to get his attention. "Have you heard from Johnny?" you ask, suddenly curious about the condition of the poor boy who was unlucky enough to run into Jaehyun.

"Johnny? Why? Did you see him somewhere?" Ten puts his computer on the coffee table, and he turns to you. He's not making fun of you, he's serious when he talks. "What do you mean ?" you ask, trying to control the tremors in your voice. "No one has seen Johnny since the party."

The news hits you like a slap in the face, you thought he would be on his feet with a few missing memories, not that he would be actually missing. You get up from the couch, and without a word for Ten, you head for the bedroom. Jaehyun is still sleeping, so you pick up a pillow and swings it over him.

"Jaehyun, wake up!" it takes him several minutes to open his eyes, frowning. After a night like the one you had just spent, he expected a sweet awakening, and a few kisses, not being hit with a pillow. "What? What's going on?" you cross your arms against your chest. "Johnny. What have you done to Johnny? No one's seen him since..since the party!"

Jaehyun sits up, resting his back against the headboard. He rubs his eyes, and he takes his sweet time waking up before opening his mouth. "I did the right thing." if he thinks you are going to be satisfied with that answer, he is wrong. "The right thing? The right thing was to call an ambulance, not make him disappear! Where is he?" your voice is more urgent but you have to be silent so as not to attract Ten's attention.

"Why are you so interested in that?" he asks in a cold, sharp voice. He gets up from the bed with a smooth and graceful movement, and he walks towards you until you are locked between his body and the wall. "Do you like him? Is that why?" you shake your head, avoiding his threatening gaze. "Don't say such things! I don't like him, I just want to know why you did that!"

A low growl is heard, and if you could, you would try to become one with the wall. You squeak when Jaehyun's fingers rest around your throat. He takes a step forward, and he's so close that you can feel his breath against your lips. "You're mine, Y/n, I did what it took to keep him from coming back. And I would do it again. Again, and again. Until you figure out you don't need nobody. You only need me, do you understand me correctly? "

You grab his wrist as his grip tightens around your throat. You are already starting to feel the burning in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. "Jaehyun .. please I didn't mean to hurt you." your voice is weak, and so trembling that you wonder if he understood a single word of what you just said. "Mine." he growls before loosening his hold on your throat. You slide down the wall, tears streaming freely down your cheeks. You takes a long and difficult breath, it's extremely painful.

When you look up, Jaehyun is gone.

You feel stupid. You feel so silly for thinking that Jaehyun really loved you, and that you too could love him back. But you were wrong. It's not love Jaehyun has for you, it's an awful obsession. He doesn't show you what true love is, he manipulates you every day. And he knows how to do it, since you fell into his arms so easily after he ... after he killed Johnny.

Now that you have taken a step back, you realise that you should have been more vigilant, that you should have stayed with Johnny, and called someone yourself. You don't know what suddenly happened for you to give yourself to Jaehyun. Maybe that would have kept your life from turning into hell.

Jaehyun has made it his personal mission to make your life hell on earth.

He's always there, behind you, watching you rear, making sure no one is approaching you. When someone dares to approach you, you find yourself with blood on your clothes, and a corpse at your feet. Sad to say, but after a while you are no longer surprised. You no longer have nightmares, since nothing can be worse than your life.

Today is no different.

You woke up in Jaehyun's arms, feeling like you chest was crushed in a vise. Feeling his breath against the back of your neck is a sensation that you can't stand anymore. His hands give you chills when you thinks of all the blood they have shed. His smile is no longer angelic. And his laugh? You hear it everywhere you go. You can't do that anymore.

Lucky for you, Ten is the only person he hasn't touched yet. But for how long ? Ten is also the only person who can keep you grounded. Whenever he sees you falling back into your bad habit of letting yourself be bewitched by Jaehyun's sweet words, he is there to slap some sense into you, to remind you that you are better than that. If Ten wasn't there, you do not know where you would be.

When Jaehyun's grip on your waist loosens, you take the opportunity to slip out of bed. You take the clothes you had prepared the day before and leave the room. In the bathroom, you take a shower to get rid of the invisible dirt you feel every time Jaehyun puts his hands on you. You get dressed, and you find Ten in the kitchen. He's drinking a cup of coffee, and when he sees your face, he hands you his cup. You need it more than him.

"Are you sure ?" he asks, and you nod. Yes, you are sure, you have no other choice. "You can count on me." you walk up to Ten and places a kiss on his cheek, then turns on your heels. You put on your shoes, and after taking a long breath, you leave the apartment. You're not working today, otherwise you should have been planning this for another day.

When Jaehyun wakes up, he is surprised to be alone. The place next to him is cold, which means that you were long gone. He stands up, and he leaves the room. He searches the apartment, but all he finds is Ten and the disapproving look on his face. "Where is she ?" he asks and Ten shrugs. "She said she had to see a co-worker." that's enough to put Jaehyun in pure rage. Ten swallows hard as Jaehyun disappears, leaving behind that sickening smell of burning that he cannot get rid of. This is time for him to do something.

Doyoung is already waiting in front of the cafe when you arrive, and he smiles when he sees you. You approache, and you accept the hug he offers you. He's noticed that you haven't been yourself lately, and while he doesn't know the real reason behind this change in behavior, he's ready to help. Poor thing.

"You look tired." he says, and you sigh. You could cry, and fall into Doyoung's arms if you wanted to, but you can't, not now. "I am. Do you mind if we have coffee at my place? Ten is at work." he nods, of course he doesn't mind. You take his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. This feeling is now foreign to you who are used to the constant heat of Jaehyun's body, so feeling Doyoung's cold fingers is like comfort to you. Normality still exists.

The walk to the apartment is short. You make conversation with Doyoung who is completely oblivious to what is happening. You feel it. You feel Jaehyun behind you. You feel the holes he drills in your back with his gaze. You could even hear his heartbeat if you wanted to, heart ready to come out of his chest.

"After you." he says, like a gentleman, when you open the front door of the apartment. The apartment is empty, as you thought. Kind of. You walk towards the living room after letting go of Doyoung's hand, and you instantly miss the contact. You crave normal physical contact from a human being, it's crazy. "You want some coffee ?" he nods.

You walk to the kitchen, your hands resting on the edge of the counter, and you breathe slowly. You are ready to throw up, you are so nervous. Immediately, you find yourself leaning forward on the counter, one hand resting on you head to keep you from moving. "What do you think you're doing?" you've never heard Jaehyun be so threatening, yet he has been in the recent weeks. It's the last straw for him.

"I'm not doing anything Jaehyun, please let me go." the countertop tile is cold against your cheek, but it helps you keep your head in check. "You're really trying to make me angry! You haven't understood yet that you don't need anyone but me. I'm sure it's Ten, I should have gotten rid of him a long time ago. He's the one keeping you away from me." he releases the pressure on your head, and he walks to the living room.

When Doyoung's gaze lands on Jaehyun, he frowns. He certainly didn't expect the boy to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up to him. "She's mine." the rest is a mix of screams and blood splashing on the walls. You watch the scene, and you don't move. You cry, you can't help it, and a sob escapes your lips when Doyoung's gaze meets yours one last time. "I'm sorry." you articulate. You had no other choice.

Jaehyun drops Doyoung's limp body, and he turns to you. He is about to take a step forward when he finds himself blocked by an invisible force field. "What is happening ?" he growls. He tries to move, but he is unable to come out of this small circle protected by something that is drawing a lot of energy from him.

"It's the only solution, Jaehyun." you murmur, voice broken by another sob. You look at the ground, and Jaehyun follows your gaze. He was so angry that he hadn't noticed the absence of the coffee table in the living room, and the white chalk drawing on the dark wood floor. A pentacle was drawn there by Ten when you went out to retrieve your victim. "Why why !" he screams, and you take a step back.

You know he can't reach you, you spent hours researching it, the best way to trap a demon, and yet you can't help but feel your organs tighten with fear. "I can't do this anymore, Jaehyun." Jaehyun punches his fists against the invisible force field, and the more he does so, the redder his eyes turn. If you get close, you're sure you could see the flames of the underworld reflecting.

"I love you, Y/n! I love you more than .." he starts, but you cut him off. "Yes, more than anyone will ever be able to love me. But that's not love, Jaehyun." you can't describe the anger you reads on the demon's face. "I've killed for you baby, who else could say that?" he's using a nickname you liked for a while, but that only reinforces your decision. "Killing for me wasn't the best way to prove me your love."

"I killed an angel for you! I killed an angel to be with you!" you open your eyes wide to his words. "You- you killed my guardian angel." he nods, a proud expression on his demonic face. So everything that happened was not because of a mistake, but because Jaehyun wanted to be with you. Because he needed to be near you. "You are a monster."

This is the obvious. Jaehyun laughs and you feel your blood boiling inside of you. "Ten, you can come, it's okay." The apartment was not really empty, Ten was hiding in his room waiting for the signal. He stops in front of Jaehyun, and he can't help but smile when he sees that the demon can't reach him. "Oh, the poor little demon can't do anything, that's too bad." you roll your eyes, of course Ten was going to tease him.

It is your turn to approach the pentacle on the ground, and Jaehyun. Despite all the anger in his eyes, you can also see how much love he has for you. And you know that no one can ever love you as much as he does, that's right. But you don't mind, you don't need love like that. You need pure love that will never hurt you. If you can ever trust someone after that.

"You know, for a while, I really thought I could love you, Jaehyun." you explain in a tender voice. "But you're nothing but a monster, you don't deserve to be loved. And you don't deserve to love. At least here you won't hurt anyone anymore." you look at the demon whose face break into something you can't explain, an expression you had never seen on him. It looks like..understanding, pain, and mixed with that natural anger. It's the last time you'll ever see this face, and deep down, it hurts, but it's for the better. You leave the living room.

Ten is in front of the door, with the suitcases you packed the day before. You are ready to start a new life, far from here, far from Jaehyun and the blood he shed in this city of doom. You open the door, and you and Ten walk out of the apartment. The last thing you hear before the elevator door closes are Jaehyun's screams. He is begging for release, begging for forgiveness, promises he can never keep.

"It's you and me against the world, once again." Ten says, and he takes you hand. Yes, it's just the two of you now. You, and a trapped demon.

Trapped, but for how long ?

[dameronology]

home {poe dameron x reader}

summary: poe made a promise to always come home, and it’s one he’s determined to keep

warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries 

more hurt/comfort fluff?? i almost sent myself off to sleep writing this bc of the ending and bc i am shattered. anyhoo, enjoy!

- jazz

p.s i skimmed this, but it has not been properly proof read haha oops pls bare with me, i will do it in the morning 

It had only been five days. 

You’d been apart from Poe for far longer than that; sometimes weeks, sometimes months. It was just part of being in the Resistance, and something you both knew you had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. You must have had some pretty foul luck to have met the love of your life during a time in which the galaxy insisted on keeping you apart - but one look at the pilot, and all that faded away. He always made it home to you, no matter what. He’d made that promise to you pretty early in the relationship, and you knew it to be true. You could never doubt Poe. 

The Blue Squadron was due back to base at midday; the mission had been pretty secretive, so the comms lines had been shut most the time. Even after begging Leia to let you man the singular one that connected you to Poe, she’d refused, knowing it would only make things worst. The General only ever spoke from experience, and she had plenty in waiting around for cocky pilots. Whilst Poe was arguably a little less reckless than Han, she knew that you would both act as a distraction to one another’s work. You were equally important to the Resistance, and she couldn’t have you moping about on a commslink for hours a day. The joke was on her for that one, because you still moped, even when you weren’t trying to reach your guy. 

 ‘What time is it?’ You asked Finn. 

‘11.56.’ He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. ‘So the same time as when you asked thirty seconds ago.’ 

‘I’m just anxious.’ You grumbled. ‘I’ve been so lonely the last five days.’

‘You mean the last five days that you’ve spent with me?’

‘Hey, it’s nothing personal!’ You nudged him in the ribs. ‘You miss him too.’

‘I do.’ Finn nodded. ‘We really are just a pair of simps.’

‘Friends who simp together, stay together.’ You grinned. ‘And if me and Poe ever break up, you have first dibs.’

‘Same for you, if Rey and I ever break up-’

‘- that would require you getting together in the first place.’ You reminded him. Finn could only scowl in response. 

‘I’m trying!’ He held his hands up in defense. ‘It’s just complicated.’

‘Nothing’s complicat - they’re here!’ 

You leapt off the crate you’d been sat on, sprinting across the hangar to where a fleet of X-Wings were grouping. Jess came in first, followed by Snap, and then Kare. Poe’s jet was the last to come in, which was unusual for him. He almost always lead the squad - aside from the time he’d managed to blow an engine and had to call you out to tow him back (it’s how you’d met, actually). Bar a few new dents and scratches, his jet looked to be in decent condition, with BB-8 whirring away from where he was perched in the back. You took that to be a good sign, even if he’d been the last to get in. 

A crowd of mechanics reached the fleet before you, tools in hand and ready to repair whatever damage the First Order had thrown at them. You gave Jess a smile and a high five as you passed, but your line of sight was dead set on finding the curly-haired pilot. You had to elbow your way through the crowd, heartbeat picking up as you did. Man, you’d missed him. The last few weeks had been rough for you both and being constantly pulled apart only made it worst. All you wanted to do was to see him, to hug him and-

- You hit Poe with a thud, chests colliding. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly against his chest and burying his head against yours. He smelt faintly of jet fuel and smoke, which was fitting. 

His lips were on yours the minute he’d let you go, hands tightly gripping your cheeks as he kissed you with all his might. Yeah, he’d missed you too.

‘Hey, baby.’ You couldn’t help but smile, eyes finally meeting - it didn’t last long though, not when you saw the state of his face. ‘Oh my god. Your eye! And your lip! And-’

‘- I missed you.’ Poe brushed it aside, pressing another exhausted kiss to your lips.   

‘I missed you too.’ You softly sighed. ‘The fuck happened to your face, though?’

‘Just...First Order stuff.’ He bit his lip, brown eyes falling to the floor. 

You sighed. ‘Shit, Poe.’ 

‘I know. He gently nodded. ‘I’m okay though. I’m here with you. That’s the important thing.’

‘You’re right.’ You agreed. ‘C’mon, I’ll take you to medical-’

He cut you off with a groan. ‘Let’s just go back to my room. Please?’ 

‘But your face.’ You gently ghosted a thumb across his bruised cheek, flinching when he shuddered slightly. ‘I mean...I have a first aid kit. I can always take a crack at it.’

‘That sounds a lot nicer than those nurse droids.’ He smiled. 

‘But you have to promise to get checked over tomorrow, okay?’

‘I promise.’

Poe flung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you headed out the hangar. His own room was actually in the opposite direction, but he practically lived with you in yours. It always felt so much nicer. You’d managed to make it a lot homier, with photos of the two of you and fairy lights strung up. The scent of your perfume always lingered in the air and sleeping in your bed was the closest he could get to you when you were away on missions. In return, he left his jumpers and hoodies laying around for you to have free reign of. It was a weak form of paying rent, but he hadn’t heard any arguments. 

You could tell that Poe was tired from the way he walked. He usually had a swagger in his step, smiling at everyone who passed. Now, he was leaning on you for support, dark eyes staring dead ahead with exhaustion, his brain working at a thousand miles an hour to process what he’d witnessed over the last few days. You’d been on his mind the entire time.

‘Here we go.’ You gently lead him to the bed, helping him shrug off his charred flight suit. He caught your lips in a chaste kiss as you moved it off his shoulders, hands suddenly grabbing yours. 

‘You know I love you, right?’

‘Of course. I love you too.’ You murmured. ‘Is something up?’

Poe pulled you down onto the bed beside him, eyes finally meeting yours. ‘I just...I got captured on the mission. Very briefly, but still. It was scary, and there was a moment when I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it back.’

‘Poe.’ Your breath caught in your throat. ‘Is that why your face is all...’

‘Like this?’ He chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, don’t be.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘It’s not your fault, and like you said earlier, the important thing is that you here now.’

‘I know, but I promised you, didn’t I? That I’d always come home?’

‘And you did.’ You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘Now c’mon, I gotta stitch you up before this scars.’

‘I reckon I’d look hot with a couple battle scars, y’know.’

‘You would, but I’d rather you not bleed out all over my sheets for the sake of vanity.’ You smiled. 

Digging out your first aid kit, you grabbed a few cotton swabs and some bacta spray. You weren’t a nurse, but your medical skills weren’t terrible either. After a few too many injuries and close calls out in the field, you’d learnt the basics. Half of the scars on Poe’s body had been from your handiwork after he’d been injured -- some of them were a little wonky, but he hadn’t died yet, so you figured you’d done a decent job. The ones he’d done for you were much neater but in your defense, he was reckless as fuck and had a ton more experience in dealing with injuries. 

On the bright side, Poe’s torso seemed fine and relatively uninjured. The white shirt he was wearing was only smeared with soot from the blaster fire, and his bare arms were broad and uninjured, save for one scrape on his left bicep. Okay, maybe the broad part wasn’t relevant to the context, but it was definitely relevant on the whole. He did have good arms. You only ever truly felt safe when they were wrapped around you.

‘This might sting a little bit.’ You crouched between his legs, pouring a little bit of bacta spray onto the cotton swab. You gently wiped it across his forehead, doing a double take when he let out a hiss of pain. ‘You okay, baby?’

‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Poe’s eyes met yours, and he gave you a half smile. ‘Better now that you’re here.’

It didn’t take too long to clean up the rest of his cuts and bruises; they were relatively minor given what he’d been through. The last time he’d been caught by the First Order on Jakku, he’d come home ten times worse than this. You’d spent days by his side in the medical room, mostly chiding him for how funny he looked in the bactasuit, but also to offer emotional support. The duality of love. 

You finished up by wrapping a bandage around the cut on his left arm, gently tying it in place with a safety pin. It was enough to keep it clean and safe until tomorrow, when you’d hopefully be able to convince him to see an actual nurse. You knew that for now, he was tired and probably just wanted to rest. His eyes were sunken with tiredness, and his body had become more and more slumped as you’d gone about cleaning him up. Poe never slept well on missions; a mixture of anxiety and your absence always made for a bad night’s sleep. 

‘That should keep you in one piece for now.’ You said, running a hand through his hair. Poe leant into your touch, pressing a kiss to your wrist. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘Mmm.’ He murmured. ‘You’re staying, right?’

'Absolutely.’ You offered him a soft smile. ‘Gotta lose the boots though. These are clean sheets.’

‘Can you do it for me?’ He asked, flopping back against the mattress. 

You rolled your eyes at his...Poe-ness, before leaning down and unzipping his shoes, tossing them in a pile across the room. Yours joined them, followed by your jacket and the crumpled flight suit. That was something else to worry about tomorrow. For now, your main focus was him. 

Poe climbed under the covers, shuffling across to make room for you. He reached out to you as you joined him, naturally wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The tiredness really hit him then, and you could feel his body untense as you pressed a kiss to his jaw. His body was warm against yours, which was a welcome contrast after sleeping alone for the last few nights. 

‘I love you.’ Poe murmured quietly. 

‘I love you too.’ You peered up at him with a smile. 

‘And I’ll always come home to you.’ He gave your shoulders a light squeeze. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I do.’

‘I’ll never break a promise to you.’

‘I know.’ You softly sighed, trying to move closer to him (as though it were even possible).

It was hard for him to fight the exhaustion now that he was laying with you -- after a few moments, his breathing became a little deeper, and his grip on you a little looser. You pressed one last kiss to his cheek, before settling back against his side and letting sleep over take you. 

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 19

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

While at first the days and nights that Mulder is away on a case feel lonely, she soon comes to appreciate the time to herself. She reads more, watches the rom-coms that he despises, has one-sided conversations with Priscilla, and gives her vibrator, long since relegated to the back of her bedside drawer, a second lease on life. When Mulder is home he’s more animated and energetic, their sex exciting and passionate. The things she loves best about him magnified, but also some of the worst. There have been a few nights he’s missed dinner without so much as a phone call, and her worry quickly gave way to irritation when he waltzed in the door raving about secret storage facilities hidden in mountains. They create new routines, new boundaries and expectations, and as time wears on, they adjust. He’ll call if he’s going to miss dinner, and she won’t guilt trip him when unexpected cases ruin their plans.

The day before Thanksgiving, he gets a tip from one of his sources about a UFO crash site in Utah and books himself and Monica tickets for that night. Scully questions whether he’s going to miss Thanksgiving dinner at her mother’s and he grimaces, saying he hopes to be back but as usual, can’t make any promises.

The last she hears from him is around 8:00 am on Thanksgiving day when he asks her to send his regrets to her mom. She tries to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she promises to pack up some leftovers for him to have when he gets home. When he hasn’t called by Friday afternoon, she’s a little bit worried. By Friday night, she’s panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, she goes to the Gunmen’s, using her own special knock that spells out “doc” in Morse code.

“Hey, Sis, are you okay?” Missy greets her with a worried frown, now an honorary fourth member of the trio.

“I haven’t heard from Mulder in over twenty four hours,” she answers, breezing past Missy and into the tech room. “I need you to find him for me.”

The Gunmen work their magic while Missy pours her drink after drink. They track his flight into Salt Lake City and then ping his cell phone just outside Provo around 8:00 pm Thursday night. After that, nothing.

“What do you know about the case he was investigating?” Byers asks, perched behind a computer with Missy’s arms draped over his shoulders, her chin resting on his head.

Scully rubs her hands over her face in frustration. “Nothing, other than an alleged UFO crash site. He didn’t give me any other information.”

“What about his partner, Agent Reyes?” Langly asks, “do you have any way to get ahold of her?”

“I’ve tried her cell a hundred times, it’s off,” Scully replies, feeling tears coming up again.

“Does she have a family, someone else you could contact to see if she’s been in touch?” Byers adds.

“She has a partner, Dahlia,” Scully explains, “but I don’t know her last name to look up her number. I’m sure it’s in Monica’s file as her emergency contact, but the whole Hoover Building is shut down for the holiday. I know that her first name is Dahlia, she works at a flower shop in Alexandria, and they live in Palisades. That’s it.”

“Well we can work with that, why don’t you go home and get some rest?” Frohike offers, resting his hand on her shoulder.

She shakes her head, quiet tears slipping down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers, her voice small and afraid.

“I’ll come with you, Sis,” Missy says, replacing Frohike behind Scully and wrapping her arms around her sister’s shoulders.

After Missy has gathered her things and kissed Byers goodbye, she drives Scully’s car back to her apartment and plies her with more alcohol. They hold hands as they sleep, Scully’s dreams plagued by visions of Mulder detained, hurt, or worst of all, dead. If she’d had any idea that having the X files reopened would put his life at risk, she never would have entertained the idea.

Please come home, she begs God, the universe, Mulder himself if he’s somewhere listening. Please be okay.

The phone shrieks and she sits up abruptly, her head spinning. Early dawn light is just beginning to seep into the room and she feels like she hasn’t slept at all.

“Mulder?!” she blurts out, a thousand prayers on the tip of her tongue.

“No, it’s Langly, sorry. We got a number for Agent Reyes’ partner.”

Missy is now awake, and scrambles to the hallway to get a pen and paper so Scully can write down Dahlia Vidales’ phone number.

“Thank you Langly, bye,” she says and hangs up without waiting for a response. She dials Dahlia’s number with shaky hands, repeating please please please in her head over and over.

“¿Hola?” says a creaky voice, and Scully glances at the clock to see that it’s only 6:00 am.

“Dahlia?” she asks desperately, her head feeling thick and muddy.

“¿Si, Quién es?”

“This is Dana Scully, have you heard from Monica recently?” Her throat feels thick and dry, her ears ringing in protest of what they might hear.

“Oh, Hi Dana. Yes, I spoke to her last night around ten pm.”

She lets out a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief.

“Was Mulder with her?” she questions, her jaw quivering.

“Si, she said their cell phones were confiscated and they had stopped at a diner to get something to eat. She called me from a payphone. Is everything okay, Dana?”

She’s shaking, her body suddenly freezing even under her down comforter. The tension she’s been holding for the last two days erupts in a wave of tremors and she starts sobbing.

“Did she say when they’ll be home?” she forces out around her tears.

“They were hoping to get a flight this morning, so sometime today, should be.”

“Thank you, Dahlia. Sorry to wake you,” she says, and hangs up.

Missy holds her as she shakes uncontrollably, her head aching as her racking sobs jostle her dehydrated brain. Missy runs her a hot bath and after some ibuprofen, two big glasses of water, a set of warm clothes and a hot meal, she feels physically much better.

Mentally, she has shifted from worry, fear, and despair to white hot rage. When he walks in that door, she is going to kill him.

———

“Later, Reyes, sorry to hijack your Thanksgiving,” he says with a regretful smile as Monica slides into a cab. He grabs the next one, chucking his duffel bag into the trunk and slumping into the back seat with an exhausted sigh.

It’s been a long few days. They’d located the crash site and even got a little peek at it from behind a utility shed, but soon after they were loaded up in a paddy wagon and interrogated for six hours in a place that was definitely not a police station. When they were finally released, it was without their cell phones, though the suits were kind enough to let them keep their FBI badges.

He needs a shower and a shave, and a good night's sleep. He hopes Scully has gone grocery shopping, and if he's really lucky, there will still be Thanksgiving leftovers. He’d tried calling her from the terminal but she hadn’t answered. At least he has a full day off tomorrow before getting back to the daily grind on Monday.

The cab drops him off outside Scully’s apartment building and he tosses some money over the seat before retrieving his bag. Once inside, he’s fitting his key into the lock when the door swings open and he finds Melissa on the other side.

“Oh, hey Missy,” he says with a touch of surprise.

“I was just leaving,” she replies with an icy stare, and he wonders if something is up with her and Byers.

“Okay, see ya,” he says as she brushes past him and down the hall.

The apartment is dim, a fire crackling in the fireplace the only source of light.

“Scully?” he calls out as Priscilla trots up to him, rubbing her flank against his leg. He picks her up and scratches under her chin, letting her rub her cheek against his two-day stubble.

“I’m here,” Scully says flatly, and he realizes she’s lying on the couch.

He picks up his bag and walks it to the bedroom, dropping it on the floor and discarding his suit jacket on the bed. Returning to the living room, he leans down to kiss her on the cheek and then stands between the fire and the couch, facing her.

“Did you have plans for dinner?” he asks, “I’m starving.”

She scoffs, but he can’t make out her face in the dim light.

“Make your own fucking dinner,” she spits at him, and he physically recoils. Scully very rarely swears, so when she does, it means something.

“Whoa,” he says with a concerned tone, “What’s going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?” she repeats, moving to sit up. “What’s going on with me? Hmm, let’s see,” she continues, her voice shifting to angry sarcasm. “Perhaps, Mulder, what’s going on with me is that my boyfriend skipped town just in time to miss Thanksgiving dinner with my family and I had to answer questions all night about where he was. Or maybe,” she says as she leans over and snaps on the lamp on the end table, illuminating her face. Her eyes are red and puffy, pronounced bags resting underneath them. “Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t heard from you in over fifty hours, not a single phone call, or email, nothing. Maybe what’s going on with me, Mulder, is that I have barely slept in two days.” She stands, moving towards him, her voice rising in volume and her bottom lip quivering. “Maybe what’s going on with me is that I thought you were fucking dead, and I had to track down Dahlia to learn that not only were you alive and well, but you were also perfectly capable of calling me, but simply chose not to. MAYBE that is what is going on with me, Mulder!”

He stands there shell-shocked as she pushes past him, slamming the bedroom door shut as wails of agony erupt from the other side. Priscilla jumps up on to the coffee table and quirks her head at him with a meow.

“I have no idea,” he says to the cat.

He cautiously opens the bedroom door and finds Scully sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a wad of tissues in her hand and tears streaking her face. She looks up at him with a wounded expression that he’s never seen before, and would never like to again

“I’m sorry, Scully, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he says softly, approaching her.

She gives him an incredulous look.

“How the hell would I not worry if I hear nothing from you for two days, Mulder? What was I supposed to think? And why didn’t you call me?”

“They took my phone, Scully,” he offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“What about the phone in your hotel room, Mulder? Or a pay phone, or a goddamn stranger’s phone. Your cell phone is not the only device available for you to contact me with.”

He’s starting to feel like he’s being lectured by his mother for staying out past curfew.

“Okay, Jesus, I get it. I’ll try to call next time,” he says with an irritated tone.

“You’ll try?” Scully asks him, the anger taking center stage again.

He shrugs. “Shit happens, Scully. You don’t know what it’s like out in the field. Sometimes you don’t have access to a phone, or you’re running down a lead and just can’t waste the time to make a call.”

The shift in her demeanor tells him that was the wrong thing to say.

“Waste the time?” she asks in a tight whisper. “Calling me so I know you’re okay is a waste of your time?”

“God, no, Scully, that’s not what I meant. You’re twisting my words around. Look, I’m exhausted, I’ve barely gotten any sleep, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“YOU’VE barely gotten any sleep?!” she screams, then stands and walks towards him. Even with the ten inches he has on her, she looks larger than life, imposing, and scary. “I have been lying awake crying for two days worried about you!” she shouts up at him. “Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

He’s dumbstruck. He can’t remember the last time she referred to it as her apartment instead of theirs.

“Scully, you can’t be serious, all my stuff is he-”

“I said get OUT!” She cuts him off. She picks up his bag and walks it to the front door, tossing it into the hallway.

He walks slowly towards the door, waiting for her to say she doesn’t mean it, that they should get some sleep and talk about this in the morning. She stands beside the open door, her chest heaving and her jaw set, eyes focused on some far-away point but most certainly not on him. He steps into the hallway, opening his mouth to speak, and she slams the door in his face.

He hears the thunk of the deadbolt, and the sound strikes him as similar to the final nail in a coffin.

[valdomarx]

Inseparably Entwined

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, bound together, 2k, rated M

-

Elizabeth pinches the bridge of her nose. "What did you two do now?"

"We. Uhh. We found another Ancient device."

"And, instead of cataloguing it for a hazmat team to investigate, as per protocol, you decided to play with it?"

“To investigate it,” Rodney corrects. “Like the competent professionals we are.” John punches him in the arm.

Elizabeth's lips purse into a thin line. "And then you accidentally activated it?"

John winces. "And then we accidentally activated it."

"Of course you did. And its effects are…?"

"Non lethal," Rodney says, a bit too quickly. 

Elizabeth mumbles something that might be don't bet on it under her breath. "Non lethal, but…?"

John shifts his weight and stares at a point behind her head. "McKay and I have to stay within ten feet of each other at all times or we both pass out."

For a moment there is stunned silence. Then the sound of Elizabeth's bark of laughter fills the office and spills out into the gate room.

-

Carson waves a hand. “You’re both going to be fine. It looks like the bond is only temporary.”

Rodney fidgets. “How temporary?”

“I couldn’t say. A few days, maybe a few weeks?”

“Weeks?” John chokes out. “Listen, doc, we need you to fix this -”

Carson cuts him off. “I’m sorry, son, but I’ve got more important things on my plate right now.” He looks pointedly around the infirmary which is admittedly full of marines being treated for combat injuries, Athosians coming in for checkups, and troops of medical staff organizing vaccinations for off-world groups.

John deflates. “So we’re stuck with each other?”

Carson pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Rodney looks up at that. “Hey!”

-

“Absolutely not.” John recoils in horror. “We are not sleeping in your room.”

“But all my stuff is in there.”

“Your room is disgusting. If you think I’m sleeping on the floor among half-finished bags of cheetos and bits of drones, you are sorely mistaken. It’s a wonder you haven’t attracted the Lantean equivalent of rats.”

“I’ll have you know the bags of cheetos are almost entirely finished.”

“Rodney -”

“Alright! We’ll sleep in your oh-so-tidy quarters. Military spick and span, no snacks or useful bits of machinery in sight.” Rodney rounds on him, waving a finger in his face. “But if I get an inspired idea in the middle of the night and can’t find a circuit board to test it on, know that it’s your stubbornness that is robbing humanity of another of my great concepts.”

John hides a smile. “I’ll have to find a way to live with myself.”

-

When the doors to John’s quarters slide open, Rodney’s jaw drops.

“Hey! How come you have a bigger bed than me?”

John shoots him a smug look. “I upgraded after the last attack. Benefits of command.” It was one of the very few benefits of command he was willing to take advantage of.

“Oh, that’s how it is, hmm? We’re living in a military dictatorship here, with all the best perks and boons given to the highest ranking officers? Never mind that it’s the scientists who do all the actual work, who discover new technology and solve the problems, oh no, let’s give out the biggest and comfiest beds to the military guys, as if that’s fair -”

“McKay!” he interrupts. Rodney looks like he’s having fun, gearing up for a good rant, but John honestly can’t take it right now. “Go to sleep, I’m begging you.”

Rodney huffs, clearly saving that rant away for another time. “Fine.”

-

John is woken up for the third time that night by Rodney fidgeting on the floor and sighing dramatically. 

“What is it, McKay?” His voice is testy. He doesn’t love having his sleep interrupted.

“I can’t get comfortable. A sleeping bag on the floor is bad for my back.”

John stares at the ceiling and counts to ten. He looks at the ample space next to him and calculates his best odds of getting some sleep tonight. “Come here and share the bed with me then.”

Rodney eyes his mattress dubiously. “I’ll have you know I require a very firm mattress, for spinal support, not that I’d expect you to understand -”

“For god’s sake, get in the bed. It has to be better than the floor.”

A moment’s pause. “Yeah, alright.”

It’s been a long time since John slept next to someone. His rare hookups have mostly involved sneaking out in the middle of the night, and even when he was married they slept in separate beds most of the time. 

Sleeping next to Rodney is, surprisingly, not awful though. Sure, he steals all the covers and moves around all the time and, of course, he snores, but John finds that he strangely doesn’t mind. 

-

John has seen Rodney under fire, seen him at his best, seen him happy and sad and angry and bored. But he’s never seen him first thing in the morning before.

“Whazzat?” Rodney’s eyes barely open. His expression is one of overriding confusion. “Whzz going on?”

John stifles a smile at his resident genius. He’s been up for an hour already, showered, done his laundry, and cleaned his space. He’s also decided to play nice and share his secret.

“Here,” he says, and hands a mug of freshly brewed coffee to Rodney. “Just don’t tell anyone I snuck coffee and a kettle into my personal effects, or the scientists will raid us in the middle of the night.”

“Coffee!” Rodney is still radiating confusion, but he hones in on the cup of coffee like a laser. A blissful smile passes over his face. “You brought me coffee.”

“I did.”

“You’re wonderful.” Rodney takes the coffee and cradles it like something precious and rare.

-

After a day and a half doing paperwork in the lab because they can't go off-world, John has reached the end of his rope. 

"I'm going to the gym," he snaps. "You can either come with me or we'll both end up in the infirmary when I try to go there alone."

Rodney glares and is clearly about to start arguing when Zelenka elbows him. He sighs dramatically but agrees that they can take an hour away. 

While they're both in the gym and John needs a sparring partner, he figures he might as well teach Rodney some self defense. The idea of Rodney needing to defend himself makes something unpleasant twist in his gut, but he pushes that away and argues they should make the most of this time and do something productive. To his surprise, Rodney agrees, and they run through some basic drills and defensive maneuvers. 

Rodney is bad at this, frankly. He's all elbows and poor coordination, but he's trying. 

John is feeling magnanimous, and he knows the value of a bit of positive reinforcement. So when Rodney steps forward and attempts a clumsy hip throw, he leans in and lets himself be thrown. 

Rodney looks astonished that actually worked, before delightedly pouncing on John and pinning him to the floor.

"Got you," he says, face pink and grinning wickedly. 

John's heart picks up, somehow distracted by Rodney's heavy weight on him and the sharp brightness of his smile. He swallows thickly. 

"I guess you do."

-

“Geez, Sheppard, how long does it take to have a shower?” Rodney’s voice carries through the bathroom door. “I want to run some simulations on the city’s power systems with Zelenka.”

John’s cheeks flush and he tries to tune Rodney out. “Just give me a minute, will you?”

“What are you doing in there anyway, jerking off?”

John goes very, very still.

“Oh my god, you are!”

“Shut up, McKay.”

“No, no, don’t let me stop you. You go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m not judging. It’s perfectly natural. And hey, maybe it’ll help you chill the fuck out for once.”

John scowls, gives up, and shoves his dick back in his pants. “I will kill you in your sleep.”

-

John is used to having to drag McKay around after him on missions, so in some ways their new situation isn’t entirely unfamiliar. 

Tac vests are useful for that; full of hand holds he can grab when he needs McKay to get down under cover or to stop him from wandering off to look at some shiny piece of technology. When Rodney is in uniform, he can grab the collar of his shirt, though Rodney complains that it creases the fabric horribly.

So John finds a compromise. When he has stuff to do and Rodney is dawdling, he grabs his hand and steers him in the right direction. After a while it becomes second nature - whenever there’s danger or something important is happening, he takes Rodney’s hand and they set off to deal with it together.

If any of the marines find it funny to see their commander holding hands with the head of science during a crisis, none of them dares to mention it.

-

John is carefully, carefully tending to his hair. Just the right amount of product, to spike it just the right amount to look effortless. He tweaks and ruffles, tugs and shapes. This is an art form which requires judicious maintenance. 

“Oh, for the love of -” Rodney grabs the tub of hair wax out of his hands. “We’ll be here all day. Let me.”

He steps forward and slides his hands into John’s hair, ruffling it vigorously. His fingers are firm on John’s scalp and he tugs just on the right side of too hard.

Rodney steps back and surveys his work. “That’ll do.”

John glances in the mirror and sees a chaotic, wild mess. He looks like he’s run a marathon, with his pink cheeks and mussed hair, or like he’s rolled out of bed after a night of passion.

“Rodney! I can’t go out like this.”

“Oh, shut up. You look smoking hot, like you always do.”

That’s… What? What does that mean? Why the hell would Rodney say that?

“Come on,” Rodney is saying, already on his way out the door. John has to run after him, cheeks still flushed.

-

They find a rhythm.

John gets up first and puts the coffee on while he showers. He’s given up on trying to tidy Rodney’s side of the room, so he lets the piles of circuit boards and screwdrivers sprout up where they will. Once Rodney is up they get breakfast at the mess, then he spends the morning doing paperwork and writing reports in the science lab while Rodney works. They meet Teyla and Ronon for lunch, then he spends the afternoon drilling the marines while Rodney taps away at a laptop. Evenings, they bicker over which movies to watch in their quarters and throw popcorn at each other.

Elizabeth even agrees to let them travel to the mainland, and then to go on low-stakes reconnaissance missions. 

It’s… comfortable, he realizes. It works.

That thought makes something twist in his chest, and he doesn’t know why.

-

“Morning, sunshine.” John pours Rodney a cup of coffee.

“Mmm.” Rodney is still sleep-rumpled, but he struggles upright and smiles softly. “Morning.”

As he hands over the coffee, Rodney catches his wrist and holds him there. He looks down at the mug, then back up at John. John notices in an abstract way that his eyes are very, very blue.

“Thanks,” Rodney says, and pecks him on the lips.

Right. Okay. That’s a thing. That’s a thing they’re doing now.

John is still processing as Rodney gets up and heads for the shower. “I’ve got a meeting with Miko this morning,” he says over his shoulder, normal as ever, “so we might have to push our gym session back by half an hour -”

He keeps chattering away while John sits on the bed and has a minor crisis. Did they… do they… but that would mean…

By the time Rodney is out of the shower, John has made a decision. 

He doesn’t allow himself to overthink it, he just takes Rodney’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply. Rodney’s arms tighten around his waist and his tongue slips into his mouth and oh. Oh yes. That’s good.

John’s a little breathless, a little dizzy. “Are we really doing this?” he asks.

Rodney’s face scrunches up in amusement. “I think we’ve been doing this for weeks.”

Yeah. Okay. That’s a fair point.

The tense feeling that’s been winding around his chest uncoils, and in its place is nothing but blooming warmth.

“I guess we have.”

-

EPILOGUE

“Carson.” Elizabeth looks up from where she’s frowning at a tablet and gives him a polite nod. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Any time,” Carson says, and means it. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to get an update on the situation with John and Rodney. We really do need them to get back on full duty soon.”

“Ahh.” He’s been carefully avoiding that topic. He takes a breath. “To be honest with you, the bond between them wore off days ago. They could go their separate ways now and be none the worse for it.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows fly upward toward her hairline. “And you haven’t told them yet?”

“See, at first they were in the infirmary every day asking for an update. But they haven’t been in for over a week and -”

“And?”

“They seem…” he pauses, contemplating his choice of words, “... happy.”

Elizabeth’s mouth twitches into a quickly suppressed smile. “That may be, but you have a professional responsibility.”

“Aye, you’re right. I’ll go and tell them the effects of the device have run their course.”

“Well…” Elizabeth looks thoughtful. “You have a professional responsibility to give them accurate medical information when they ask for it.”

Carson sees where she’s going with this. “And until then?”

Elizabeth shrugs and gives him a sly look. “They do seem happy.”

[merakiaes]

The One For Me - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @nuvoleincielo​

Prompts: #16, #30 and #63 from the fluff-list. 

Warnings/notes: This is my first time writing for Hotch and Criminal Minds in general so please be patient while I get used to these new characters, might be slight OOC😭 It’s also the first piece I’ve written in a few months now and I’m a bit rusty, so please let me know what you think. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Send in more requests for Hotch, Reid and Morgan and let me know if you want to be added to the Criminal Minds taglist! I hope you like it💕

Wordcount: 4118

Summary: Hotch has doubts about letting your relationship go further and you reassure him that he’s what you want. 

After being raised in one of New York’s worst, most crime ridden and low poverty neighborhoods by a family who was constantly targeted by the law enforcement, the last thing you’d expect was that you would become an active worker of said law enforcement.

Your mother died ten minutes after giving birth to you and your father had never been a part of the equation, most likely having ran the second he found out your mother had gotten pregnant. With no other immediate family, you ended up in the system, where you were stuck for the first seven years of your life.

You jumped back and forth between families of all kinds but for reasons unknown, no one wanted to keep you. It wasn’t until a couple adopted you two days before your eight birthday that you finally felt like you belonged.

They had many children of their own as well as more foster children, all between the ages of ten and twenty-five at the time of your adoption. On top of that, the children had children of their own and aunts, uncles, cousins and friends stayed with you more often than not as they struggled to hold on to homes of their own.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live, a dozen people staying under the same roof of a two bedroom house, but you had dinner on the table every evening and the love for family was strong, so despite the conditions you lived in and the struggles you were forced to face on a daily basis, you guessed you couldn’t complain; you’d had it better than most.

The people who lived in those parts were always getting pinned for various kinds of crimes, just so the police could get it out of their hands and go on about their lives.

The male members of your family and the company they kept were some of the biggest targets even though they rarely did anything wrong, but despite the injustices they faced every day, they remained respectful when staring in the face of a cop.

You, on the other hand, despised them. You were an outspoken little girl, too feisty for your own good and on more occasions than one, you’d ended up pissing off some rich kid in school for which your dad and uncles were forced to pay the price.

You’d always hated the injustice the less fortunate suffered every day, but it wasn’t until you witnessed your first murder at fifteen that your interest of making the world a better place really piqued.

The victim had been one of the boys living in your neighborhood. He was two years older than you and he always gave it his all to make something out of himself. He walked with you and your younger brothers and cousins to school every day to make sure you got there safely, studied hard, kept out of trouble and always remained respectful.

The only reason he died was because his skin was the wrong color in the eyes of the law and because he was born into a less fortunate neighborhood, and it was then your eyes truly opened to the police brutality and misuse of power plaguing your country.

You joined the police force when you were nineteen years old and you stayed there, on top of your game and determined to do it better than the bad ones, until you were twenty-one. 

At that point, most of your family had passed away either out of old age, or simply from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your determination to help people was stronger than ever.

But even you, the tough little firecracker as your uncles had always called you, could only tolerate so much.

After two years on the force, you got tired of being undermined by your male co-workers and set out to step up your game, taking up studies of criminology and psychology among several other subjects.

You studied your ass off and was just barely able to get by with the money you had saved up over the years, and at twenty-four, you finally had your degrees and clearance to begin working in higher places.

Starting off in New York, you stayed there for six months before you were transferred to Quantico, Virginia, where you were recruited by the one and only Jason Gideon who had heard word of your talent in the field.

You had worked with the team for little over a year now and Jason, who had always acted as a kind of mentor and father figure for you, was gone, having left only a letter for you and Spencer each.

Taking his place was Aaron Hotchner, a fellow agent to which you hadn’t paid much personal attention before the departure of Gideon. But things changed when he left, a lot of things.

Hotch was fresh out of his divorce, moodier than ever and in a really bad mental state. He stayed in his office until the late hours of the night, sometimes even the early hours of the next morning, barely slept and often forgot to eat if he wasn’t reminded by his team members.

Everyone urged him to take some time off, to go home and get some sleep and to take care of himself, and although he always told them that he would, he never followed through.

Up until then, you still hadn’t spoken much with him except for when you were working on a case. You were just an agent and he was just your boss, there was nothing else to it. But you couldn’t just sit by and watch as he neglected himself, so you followed your team-mates’ example and approached him.

He dismissed you at first, like he had done everyone else who had tried to offer him their support. But as time passed by, in some miraculous way, you made him laugh, and as you continued your attempts on offering him your ear to listen, he opened up to you, and you grew to become more than just colleagues.

Your first and only date had been on your initiative. You invited him to dinner at your house during your weekend off, to which he agreed.

You cooked together and although it started off as kind of awkward – more from his side than yours – you ended up kissing later that night after having had a bit too much to drink, and fell asleep together on your couch while you were flicking through your childhood photo albums.

The next morning, he was gone. You had always been an extremely light sleeper so you found it strange that he had managed to slip off without alerting you and also having managed to wrap you up in a blanket before he left.

He didn’t leave without a word though. A note was neatly placed on the coffee table in front of you, on which he explained that he needed to pick up Jack and that he didn’t want to wake you, finishing it off with a thank you for the night before.

That was the first and last time you spent time together, just the two of you, but it wasn’t like it was intentional.

You wanted to do it again, to continue exploring the budding romance between the two of you and to see where you could take it, and although you knew nothing of his feelings, he wanted the same thing.

But work got very stressful; stressful to the point where you could never find a moment to talk to each other if it wasn’t in the presence of the entire team. But the spark between you wasn’t gone.

It was still there in the way he would let his hand hover above the small of your back when you were walking side by side and step in front of you if you were ever in danger, and in the way you would always take a second to ask how he and Jack was doing, if they were eating enough and getting enough sleep, whenever you were heading somewhere; no matter if the team was with you.

It was there in the way he would always encourage you to go on the less dangerous tasks while he took the ones that were more life-threatening and in the way he would always smile, the slightest of smiles, whenever you were exchanging jokes or sarcastic remarks with Morgan, or messing around with poor, clueless Reid.

It was there, but it was unspoken. At least until now.

The case you had been working on for the past two days was that of Gilbert Stratton; a serial killer who had targeted young women, killed them, drained them of their blood, and then proceeded to hang the bodies up by their feet in trees all around the city.

You had caught him just in time to save the last kidnapped girl and you had originally been the one assigned to question him, but Hotch had stepped in last minute after the man had made a crude comment about how ‘girls like you always tasted the best’.

You had attempted to tell him that you could take it, but before you had even been given a chance to state your case, he had shut the door in your face and you had been whisked off by JJ.

You were the one out of the entire team who was the most interested in the psychology of a serial killer so you really wanted to be the one to interview Stratton, but you knew that Hotch had taken over for the sake of your safety and not because he underestimated you, so you couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad.

While he did his job, you settled at your desk with a sigh, getting to work on the heft stack of paperwork that had been building up throughout the week. 

The first ten minutes you kept close track of the clock next to you, wondering why it was taking so long, but the more time that passed, the more focused you became.

Soon enough, you only had a few reports left and you had completely lost track of time, when there was a sudden bang behind you, sounding an awful lot like a door slamming shut.

And your suspicions were proven correct, when you looked up to see Hotch march straight the bullpen.

The corners of your lips tugged up at the sight of him, but the arising smile quickly fell again when he walked right past you, without even an acknowledging glance, heading into his office and shutting himself inside without as much of a word to anyone.

Left behind with dumbstruck looks on their faces were the team, glances of bewilderment being exchanged.

“What happened?” Reid asked the question you were all thinking after a moment of silence, just as Emily walked in from the interrogation room.

Rather than answering Reid’s question, she looked right at you, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I think you better go talk to him.” She said simply, and as confusion and anxiety bubbled up inside of you, you slowly drawled.

“Okaaay…”

They all watched you as you stood up from your seat, brushing down your shirt and turning off the lamp at your desk before heading for the stairs.

You could feel their eyes following your every move and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous of what you were about to walk into.

Everyone had gotten negatively affected by a case or unsub at some point during their career, most more than once. They were all very good at getting into your head, no matter how little you wanted to admit it. But you had never seen Hotch react this strongly to anything before. The only time you had really seen him snap was during one single case, right after Haley had filed for a divorce.

Still, you kept walking until you reached his closed office door, stopping only then to peek inside the blinded windows to see him sitting at his desk, hands rubbing over his face.

You knocked on the glass gently and in any other case he would have looked up and meet your gaze, but when his head kept hanging this time, you let yourself in, only when closing the door behind you cutting off the curious eyes of the others.

Once you were inside, you wasted no time in approaching Hotch where he sat by his desk, analyzing his every move which led you to only one question.

What the hell had Stratton said to him to make him this distraught?

He didn’t even look up as you reached him, keeping his eyes closed as you came to a stop beside his desk.

Treading carefully, you reached out and gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” You asked softly, the sound of your words instantly bringing a long, heavy sigh out of his nose.

“Why are you doing this?” He wasted no time in replying, causing a crease to form between your eyebrows.

“What?” You asked back, confusion lacing your voice.

Finally, he brought his hands down from his face and slowly spun around in his chair, forcing you to drop your hand from his shoulder and to take a step back.

He stared up at you, face wiped free of emotion as always. But the eyes said it all.

“Why are you so adamant on being with me? Why do you try so hard?” He questioned you, taking you by surprise.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes grew slightly wider, and you took a moment to regain your composure after the, to say the least, unexpected question.  

“What kind of question is that?” You asked once you finally regained your senses. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you want to be with someone? Try?”

One of your eyebrows sank again, leaving only one raised in question.

Hotch’s face softened slightly and for a moment, he averted his eyes, letting out another, smaller sigh from his nose before looking back up to meet your eyes once again.

“What I mean is, why do you want to be with me?” He asked again, clarifying and slightly shaking his head in what seemed to be disbelief. “The second you walked into this office, both Morgan and Reid had their eyes on you, and they still do. They’re closer to your age, they’re energetic, humorous, full of life, while I’m ten years your senior, and can’t offer you what they can. So why do you want to be with me, when you can have them, or anyone you want?”

“What is it that they can give me that you can’t?” You didn’t waste a second in firing back.

You had no idea what had brought this on, but it was clear that it was bothering him and quite frankly, you found it ridiculous even though you didn’t like making it a habit to judge other people for what they were feeling.

“They can make you smile-“ He started explaining, and you instantly cut him off.

“You make me smile, all the time.” You shook your head, but your affirmation only seemed to fuel his frustrations even more as he was up on his feet within the next second.

“But I’m not- I’m not fun.” He stated, staring you down. “My clock is ticking. I’m ill-tempered, irritable, too serious for my own good. I’m barely capable of taking care of myself at this point much less my son. I’m miserable and I’m a bully, who only cares about this job. Why would you want to be with someone like that?”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we had something good going.” Your face fell slightly, and you carefully reached your hands out to grab a hold of the front of his suit, taking a small step closer.

“Is this because of Stratton? Is he the one putting these doubts into your head?” You asked, keeping your eyes on your hands for a short moment before looking up to meet his heavy gaze staring down at you.

And once your eyes met his, he knew there was no point in lying; you were a profiler after all, and a good one at that.

“He did.” He confessed calmly, his lips pursing into a straight line.

“Aaron…” You began, the softness of your voice matching the one in your eyes.

“But everything he said is true.” He quietly interrupted you. “I’m not fun to be around, I push people away. That’s what I do, what I’ve always done.” His eyebrows rose and he stood still.

You knew about the doubts he had about himself. You know he felt inadequate as a friend, as a colleague, as a father, and more than anything as a partner after the way Haley had left him. You were aware of all of it, and yet the sound of those self-doubts being voiced aloud saddened you nonetheless.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you took another step closer, flattening your palms out on his chest and your eyes never leaving his.

“Those people didn’t deserve you in the first place. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they started building a relationship with you, whether it be a romantical or purely platonic one. They knew how passionate you are about your job, how much you value it. Them leaving… That’s on them, not you.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I’m not about to give up on you, on us, just because you happen to be a few years older than me. Derek, he wants to have fun, to be young. He may be attracted to me but he doesn’t want anything serious. Spencer isn’t ready for a relationship either, for obvious reasons, and either way, they’re not the ones I want.”

He watched you intensely as you spoke, lips still tight and strained. “What is it that you want?” He asked you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Something serious and stable, someone who’s ready to settle down, and for me, the best chance to get that is through you.” You smiled, breaking your eyes away from his to follow your hand as you moved it up to his face. “Regardless of what other people say, you’re an amazing person. You’re passionate, driven, kind, loyal, gentle, and so much more. Despite what you may think, you do have a sense of humor and you’re the only one who can make me smile until my cheeks hurt. If that’s not a good man, a good person, then I don’t know what is. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

By the time you finished, the remaining doubt was wiped free from his face, a small, gentle smile instead having taken its place.

It was a funny thing, Hotch only ever spared the tiniest of smiles, and yet it was them that brought you the biggest and most intense amount of happiness. It was so rare to see his ever-stoic features reflect joy that you couldn’t help but light up like a kid on Christmas every time it occurred.

And true to what you’d always been told growing up, your smile was just so contagious that he couldn’t help but to smile wider at the sight.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and visibly relaxed where he stood.

Your heart swelled in your chest when you took note of the way he was slowly but surely shuffling closer to you, picking up a significant amount of speed when you then felt his hand brush against the side of your hip.

But he didn’t dare touch you, hesitation still lingering in the air. So you did what your heart told you and grabbed a hold of his hand, and pushed it down into the curve of your waist.

From then on, he moved on his own, raising his other hand to mimic the same position at your other side, and you let your hand drop from his, instead raising them to busy with his crimson red tie.

“I know you’re struggling, with yourself, with Jack, and that you’re still processing the divorce. And if it’s time you want, then I’ll wait.” You spoke quietly, feeling your skin flush hot under his touch as his thumbs began to move over the thin fabric of your shirt. “But if you want to keep going and see where this can go, then I’ll be here every step of the way to support and help you in any way I can. You just need to let me in.”

More shyly then before, you dared loo back up at him through your lashes, hands stilling on his chest.

His smile was gone and his eyes creased together in concentration, but his eyes were soft and his head slowly nodded. “You’re right.” He said, and you allowed yourself to smile again.

“Aren’t I always?” You lightheartedly teased, tilting your head to the side.

In return, a smile spread across his face, his head shaking. “Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, no take-backs. What’s said is said.” You kept joking, your smile only widening.

He kept smiling down at you for a few seconds longer, but then his face fell again, just like that, out of nowhere, completely sudden. The gaze he held on your face grew absent as he got lost in his thoughts, and before you could question him about the sudden change of mood, the words spilled from his lips as if there was no tomorrow.

“I think I love you.”

Your mind instantly broke into a flurry of thoughts, countless emotions battling in your body. Nervosity and excitement ended up coming out on top, the mixture of the two creating an uncomfortable, sickly feeling in your stomach.

Your face fell in disbelief and your eyes searched his as he came back to reality.

“You do?”

Your voice came out so quiet and small, you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic, but luckily, you didn’t get much time to beat yourself up over the anticlimactic reacting as he continued.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way, but I needed to say it. Every day, this job puts all of our lives in danger. I couldn’t bear it if one of us died before I got the time to let you know how I feel.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself growing weak at the knees as he absentmindedly rubbed your waist with his thumbs.

“Just a minute ago, you were trying to end… whatever this is, and now your proclaiming your love for me?” You asked. 

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to ease the anxiety you were currently feeling, but you realized quickly that said anxiety made it sound like the exact opposite of a lighthearted, teasing joke.

Luckily, the man standing in front of you was a profiler and knew that you meant no harm, understanding how shock could render your ability to react appropriately.

“I was never trying to end what we have. I just wanted to be sure that you were sure. That I won’t be holding you back.” He explained, and you finally managed to pull yourself out of the state of shock.

“Being with you motivates me. And I love you, too.” You confessed, the smile once again returning to your face as you moved your hands from his chest to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled right back. “Can I kiss you?” He quietly added, and your face instantly lit up in a mischievous expression.

“In the office?” You gasped dramatically, bringing your arms down, taking a step back and lightly slapping his chest. “Aren’t you feeling frisky today?”

A large smile stretched across his lips, his chest shaking as he chuckled. “Come here.” He said simply, and before you got the chance to argue, not that you would’ve if given the opportunity, he sat back down in his chair and pulled you down with him. 

The chair spun in the process, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your small laughs of glee quickly became muted as he placed his lips on yours, replaced by low hums of contentment. 

You clung to him as if your life depended on it, basking in the feeling of his lips moving against yours and his arms tightening around your waist, and as your entire body burned with passion, you realized that he really was the one for you.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @zizzlekwum​ @cozytruecrimeaddict​ @lovelynervouskingdom​

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[sassycassie-s-writing]

Under the Moon

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: I’ve been in a mood recently.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I actually put forth a decent effort this time to make it as gender-neutral as possible. It’s probably not perfect but I tried.

^^^^^

A twinge in the muscles of my back jarred me from my sleep.

$#!+ did I forget again? I thought. Another spasm arched me off my mat. I fumbled through my bag for my phone. No service. Of course not. With shaking fingers, somehow I managed to unlock it. Moon Tracker was waiting for me on my home page. It launched and actually loaded, despite the lack of service.

Tonight’s Moon: Full read the screen.

I swore aloud. MJ didn’t wake.

Scrambling out of the tent, I stumbled through the dark to the tent next to ours. “Peter!” I hissed, knocking a knuckle against the tent pole. “Pete!”

I heard a groan. “What?” Peter complained.

“I need your help. I need you to come with me. Now.”

The tent he shared with Ned zipped open. Ned was curled up in a corner and clearly Peter had been sprawled out. Peter slipped out, barely managing to get into his sneakers, and zipped the tent shut behind him. “What’s goin’ on?” He yawned.

I recoiled as pain wracked through me. “We need to get away from camp—and I need you to web me to a tree,” I replied.

“What?”

“Now!”

My tone scared him into movement. He grabbed my hand and we ran from the campsite. I stumbled more than anything. My control over my own body was slipping. I moaned in pain. Peter looked back at me.

“What’s happening to your eyes?”

“No time to explain. Keep moving,” I panted.

We blindly wove through the woods until we were over a mile away. I found a sturdy tree and backed against it.

“Web me here,” I said. “Just cover me.”

“Why?”

I looked up. The moon was starting to peek above the hills, casting its light through the woods. “Just do it!” I cried out—stifling the sound as much as I could—and slammed into the tree. “Now!”

Peter’s webshooters activated and he spewed webs at me. I gave him a small smile.

Then I thrashed in pain—

And everything went black.

—

Peter stared as his friend’s body began to change. Claws broke through fingers. Fangs replaced teeth. A snout elongated from the face. Thick, brown-and-black hair sprouted. Pajamas started to disappear under the hair.

Until, instead of a human, Peter was staring at a wolf.

An enormous wolf. Easily twice the size of a regular wolf—and he’d found out that wolves were twice as big as he’d thought not too long ago—and covered in grey fur. The beast’s paws were wide and ended in long dark claws sharp enough to tear flesh like cotton candy. Thankfully they were positioned too awkwardly to reach the webs holding it.

“Gah! What the he—” He cut himself off as the wolf snarled at him, writhing against the webs. He applied another layer just to be safe. “Since—since—since when could you do—” The moonlight shone brighter, catching his attention. He peered up.

The moon was a massive disc—full and shining silver-white down against the tree trunk.

The wolf in front of him seemed transfixed by it, staring up with a melancholy whine softly escaping its throat. It tried again to escape the webs, but only half-heartedly.

Peter whooshed out a breath as realization struck him like a blow from the Hulk. “You’re a werewolf,” he whispered.

The wolf whimpered and then growled. Peter stepped back.

“I’m not sleeping tonight, am I?” He asked.

The wolf didn’t reply.

Which was probably a good thing, because if it did he probably would have screamed loud enough to wake up their friends over a mile away—and every big nasty in the forest. And he doubted his werewolf friend would protect him.

The wolf’s amber eyes were watching him suspiciously. But Peter just sat down and yawned again. “You and I have known each other for like ten years now. You’re in on my secret. Why didn’t you ever tell me yours?” He stared at the wolf, who was still seething at being trapped, but not fighting against the webs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Again, the wolf made no reply. Just turned those amber eyes up to the moon. Peter looked up at it too. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. Especially on nights like tonight. When there aren’t any clouds.”

The wolf whined like a puppy—and Peter had to remind himself to not tear off the webs to cuddle into that thick, soft-looking fur. That werewolves probably didn’t have any human memories when they were in their wolf form. He leaned back on his hands. “You’re probably not gonna remember this, so I may as well tell you: I’ve actually had a crush on you since like seventh grade. I know we’ve been friends for longer than that but…” He shrugged. The wolf kept staring at the moon. “I don’t know. Something changed that year. I saw you in the gym with the ballroom dance club, teaching some poor dude how to waltz when I stayed late for robotics, and it was like this… like a lightbulb went off in my head. You know? Suddenly it was like I was really seeing you for the first time. Like I caught a glimpse of the best pieces of your soul.

“And I’ve never been the same since. Never looked at you the same way. I notice the grace you use when you move. Even if you’re clumsy sometimes. But I see your compassion too. Your care. Like once I started looking, I couldn’t stop.”

The wolf didn’t even react to him at all.

Peter sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on you tonight. I promise. You won’t be able to get out or hurt anything. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

—

I came to under the pale orange light of dawn. The last dregs of dissolving web fluid clung to my pajamas. I felt drained. Like I always did the morning after a full moon.

“Hey, you’re up!” Peter said happily. I turned. He was sitting on the forest floor a few feet away, using a Bunsen burner camping “stove” to heat a small pot of water. Two paper cups were sitting near him, plastic spoons poking out of the top. I slumped against the tree trunk. “I’m making some cocoa. Want some?”

I watched him pour the water in the cups, adding packets of cocoa mix and stirring carefully. I didn’t have the energy to actually reply.

He handed me one of the cups. “This should warm you up. It’s a little chilly.”

“Did you get any sleep?” I croaked.

“I did, actually. See, the thing is, my webs dissolve in two hours. On average, it takes fourteen minutes for a person to fall asleep, and a single sleep cycle is ninety minutes—hour and a half. So I used my webshooters to set timers. An almost-two-hour one to know when to replace the webs around you, and another to wake me up roughly an hour and forty-four minutes after I set it. So I slept between replacing your webs and I actually feel alright. Probably better than you anyway.”

I grunted agreement at that. I felt like I’d been trampled by a herd of elephants.

I tried a sip of the cocoa. Not too hot, but enough to warm my core. I sighed, content with the taste and warmth.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Peter asked quietly. I met his eyes. He had the expression of a sad puppy on his face.

I huffed a little, stirring my cocoa. “My secret isn’t like yours, Peter,” I said. “You keep your secret to keep the people you care about safe. I do too, but mine—mine is different. You’re keeping the people you love safe from villains who want to hurt you by hurting them. I’m keeping the people I care about safe from me. Because I’m… we’re classified as monsters, Peter. Werewolves, vampires—we’re referred to as monsters the same way humans are mammals. I never told you because what I can do… it’s worse than what you can do. You’re a superhero. I’m a lycanthrope. Yours is a mutation of your DNA. Mine is literally a curse. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you looking at me like I’m…”

“A monster?” Peter finished gently.

I almost growled at the word. “Yeah,” I admitted begrudgingly, taking a sip of my cocoa. “You have no idea how hard it is for someone like me to make or keep friends. I’ve spent most of my life super lonely. Then I met you and Ned and MJ and I felt like… like finally I could have some friends. I was turned into a werewolf when I was four-years-old, Peter. Thirteen years, I’ve suffered with this alone. My parents know but they don’t talk about it. They pretend like my curse doesn’t exist. Then I make friends for the first time in my life and still know, deep down, that I’ll never belong with them. Not really. Even when you told me about you, I knew I still wasn’t like you. I never would be. So I hoped I could just be friends as long as I could with you guys and… find a way to live with it when you all eventually left me.”

I downed the rest of my cup and stood. My joints ached.

“We should go back to camp before Ned and MJ wonder where we’ve gone,” I said.

Not waiting for Peter, I headed back the way we’d come, following my own scent through the trees, several hours old now, but doubly punctuated by Peter’s as he’d gone back to get the burner and the cocoa.

He caught up to me, jogging a little. “For the record, even though you scared the pants off of me last night when I saw you turn, I don’t think you’re a monster,” he said.

I managed a small smile. “Thanks,” I replied.

“And, also, I’m not going to leave you. You’re still my friend and I’m not scared. I can lift… like, a hundred times more than my body weight. I think I can handle you as a wolf. You’re not gonna hurt me and I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s… that’s a relief to hear,” I admitted. We kept hiking back. “Do I remember you saying you’ve had a crush on me since we were in seventh grade? Or did I dream that up?”

Peter swore under his breath. A normal person wouldn’t have heard it, but I did. Wolf’s hearing. “Uh… I think you dreamt that up,” he said.

Liar. But if he wasn’t ready to tell me human-face-to-human-face, I’d give him time. He’d taken my secret better than I could have asked for or anticipated. I could let him admit his feelings whenever he was ready. I owed him that much.

When we got back to camp, MJ was sitting on a tree stump, munching on some dry cereal. “Where have you two been all night?” she asked.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Irreconcilable

Warnings: nonconsent sex, violence.

This is dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You and Steve come to a breaking point but he’s not ready to let you go.

Note: My current kink is Steve Rogers being a bad motherfucker with a hint of insanity. Like he really coming in hot here. Oh and he got a touch of breeding kink. Enjoy <3

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You had come a long way since you were a naive SHIELD agent mooning over the one and only Steve Rogers. You were no longer an agent, you had married Steve Rogers, and now you were divorcing Steve Rogers. Five years went by in a flash and yet it felt like an eternity. It was like you were starting over again.

New job, new house, new you. Just you. Alone.

It was a breath of fresh air. You had spent so long in denial that acceptance felt like freedom. In the two years of wedded misery you spent with Steve, you had convinced yourself it was bliss. Something about that ring had changed him and he had expected you to change too.

Well you did, just not how he wanted. 

It was subtle at first. He was still sweet and your honeymoon was immaculate. When you got home, back in the thick of things, he started to grow irritable. At home, on missions, in bed. First, it started with a breakfast you failed to cook. Then he didn’t think you should be working so much as he was eager to start a family. The revelation that you were in no such hurry, further agitated him. And when it came to intimacy…

When you were just dating, he was doting, gentle, diligent. He worshipped you and made you feel beautiful. Then he turned relentless. Foreplay dwindled to a slap on the ass and a growled order. On nights you denied him, for a headache or some report you had to read, he slept on the couch. And when you didn’t reject him, it was as if he was intent upon hurting you. Punishing you for daring to defy him.

And when you tried to talk it out, there was nothing to talk about. He grew silent and restless. He didn’t have the patience to stay and delve into whatever had turned him so cruel. He had work to do or at least, something better. 

And he attended a single counseling session before he stormed out and declared it nonsense. In his day, couples made it work, through thick and thin. Well, in his day, husbands also got away with slapping around their wives and children. You liked to think that the new century had improved upon the formula.

Then his missions grew longer and he started going out with the boys a little too often. Sam and Bucky liked to have a beer now and then but you’d never known them to keep fratboy hours. You couldn’t disprove Steve’s plans but you also couldn’t be certain of them. You guessed he was cheating but you didn’t need the excuse to get out. You were already done.

So you went to Stark and Fury and discussed your departure. They agreed not to tell Steve while you figured things out. Then you went to a lawyer and drew up the papers. You didn’t want anything, just out. And, you suspected, Steve didn’t want you anymore either. 

You waited until you got a position as head of security at a government office downtown. Well-paying and respectable. Fury’s referral had gone a long way. A desk job was a dream after years of fieldwork. It was all going to be different and you were finally ready for the change.

Steve was due home from his latest mission at four. It was already seven and the boxes had already been packed up and taken to your new condo. You would let him keep the furniture. Still, the house looked empty… well, it had for a while now.

You paced across the front room for another hour and at last you heard his car. A month ago, you’d be ready to tear into him. Ready to rant and rave until your head hurt. Not anymore. You had no energy left for this relationship.

He came in quietly. He stopped short as he entered the living room. He looked around and sighed. His hands went to his hips. The Captain stance. His eyes turned deadly as he looked at you. You quit your pacing and crossed to the coffee table. You took the large envelope and went to him. You held it out.

“Everything is yours,” You said as he stared at the envelope. “Clean break. I don’t want anything. Just out.”

“What?” He brushed past the envelope and walked the perimeter of the room. “You can’t be serious.”

“Steve, you know this isn’t working.” You followed him. “We’re both miserable.”

“No, you’re miserable,” He turned on you. “I’ve only been trying to help you and you just sit there and sulk. And now you’re-- you’re trying to divorce me.”

“I am divorcing you,” You pushed the envelope to his chest. “This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

“You made a vow--”

“Jesus, Steve, this isn’t 1366,” You huffed. “I can’t live like this anymore. I won’t.”

He was silent as his jaw ticked. He backed away and crossed his arms.

“You know I still love you right,” He said quietly.

“And? Love can’t fix whatever this is,” You insisted. “Steve, come on, this doesn’t have to be difficult. You sign and it’s done. Take it to a lawyer, you’ll see it’s a good break. You get the house, the furniture, everything. We leave with what we came with; you get more than that.”

He spun back. He had the grace to look hurt.

“Think about this, please,” He pleaded, “You don’t want to do this.”

“Steve, you won’t talk to me, you won’t listen to me, what is there left to think about?” You asked. “It’s done. We’re done. You think I haven’t been thinking about this for months?”

He nodded and his jaw squared. His brows drew together and he tilted his head as he stared at the envelope in your hand.

“Fine,” He conceded. “I’ll take it to my lawyer…”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” You tried to near him and he turned his back on you again. You set it on the coffee table instead. “It’s just here, okay?”

“If you were sorry, you would try,” He growled. “Oh, and let me tell you, this will not be easy.” He peered over his shoulder, “I’ll make sure of that.”

The anger in his voice startled you. You swallowed and backed away from the table. You took your purse and your jacket in the deathly lull that followed. Steve didn’t move as he stared at the artificial fireplace.

“Goodbye, Steve,” You said as you hovered in the doorway.

“Get out,” He sneered. “Trust me, this isn’t goodbye.”

💍

Your last day at Stark Tower was the same day you served Steve the papers. You had planned it so delicately but you knew now he would not go along with it. Not peacefully. You spent your weekend unpacking and on Monday began your new position in the city. 

You were only a block away from the Tower but you avoided the area. Tony and Fury promised not to tell Steve where you were working. You suspected that wouldn’t go well for them but you trusted them. They’d faced much worse than a bitter Steve Rogers.

Coming home to your new place was no different than before. What was different was that you could breath. There was no oppressive shadow hovering over you. You opened a bottle of wine and turned on the series that Steve always complained was too vapid. He couldn’t say anything now. He could sit and watch his dry war documentaries as he preened over any mention of himself. He sure was up his own ass.

You fell asleep on the couch. You woke and repeated the same day. It all became routine and you slipped easily into the single life. Single and unwilling to mingle. 

Woven into your newly found serenity, was a thread of insecurity. Steve’s promise echoed in your head as you closed your eyes at night. “This will not be easy”. You found yourself staring at your phone as you waited for the call from your lawyer. It didn’t come for a whole month. Steve wanted a deposition. It was to be scheduled for the next week.

You set your phone down and sighed. Of course. You knew it. He wanted to be messy and surely he knew the extra lawyer fees wouldn’t make this any easier. You couldn’t fathom, however, what else he could want from you. Your settlement had swayed heavily in his favour. Well, you could guess he wanted the final word. A final victory.

Captain America never failed.

You’d have to book the day off and only a month into the job. You were sure they’d understand. Your superiors were few and your team was competent. It only annoyed you how even now, Steve could get in the way of your work.

Well, better to get it done and over with. Maybe when it was all signed and sealed, you could leave New York. It would be terribly difficult to find another job and the city had grown dull. These were his streets, his people. You would just be the woman who walked out on the first Avenger.

💍

You sat in the stiff plastic chair and stared through the clear glass wall of the deposition room. The court reporter was within, readying for the meeting. Your lawyer, Donald Calliers, was beside you and tried to calm you down with assurances that it was nothing more than a formality. There was no reason for this to go beyond a single day and he didn’t suspect much would change in the settlement.

Steve arrived ten minutes before the meeting was to begin. You peeked at him, hoping he wouldn’t catch you. He had grown out his beard and his hair was getting long. He looked very much unlike the man you’d married, albeit he was well-kempt and put together for the occasion. He was accompanied by three lawyers. That made your stomach drop.

“Three lawyers?” You whispered to Donald. “Is that bad?”

“It’s a show. Trust me. I run depositions in my sleep. No one needs that amount of representation at these things. Quality over quantity.” He said under his breath.

“I hope your right,” You replied. “I don’t think I can afford three of you.”

“Good thing there’s only one of me,” He kidded. “One of a kind.”

You forced a small laugh and tried not to fidget. You had barely been able to keep still before Steve showed up, and now you felt as if your entire body was shaking. You could feel his eyes on you and hear his own low whispers to his lawyers.

The door opened and saved you from sinking into doubt. Steve and his team stood and waited for you to enter first. You sat on the far side of the table and they took the seats across from you. The court reporter took the chair at the head of the table and cleared his throat. He swore each of you in and signalled the beginning of the deposition. Steve’s lawyers allowed no delay.

“Mrs. Rogers,” The tall blonde woman with the square jaw, Ms. Lauer, began.  “We’ll start with your monthly expenses.”

Donald shuffled through his folder and slid over the copies of your statements. The lawyers read over them and nodded as they made notes.

“And on average, thinking of only you, how often do you travel throughout the year for pleasure?” Another lawyer asked. This one a bald man called Mr. Harin.

“Once, maybe. I tend to work more than I vacation,” You answered.

“And how often do you dine out?” The third asked; Mr. Pollard.

“Couple times a month, maybe,” You avoided Steve’s gaze as it never wavered. He seemed not to even hear the questions or your answers.

“And your debt? You have any credit card debt? And outstanding loans owing?”

“I have a card I am currently paying off but it’s only a couple hundred owing,” You replied evenly. This was ridiculous. Was he really going to try to fleece you? He still made more than you did.

“And you cited irreconcilable differences on your papers,” Harin said. “We would ask what exactly these differences are?”

You looked at Steve and the angles of his face hardened.

“It’s not much of a marriage when you never see each other and when you do, you don’t talk,” You said. “And when you do communicate, it is nothing short of hostile.”

“Oh, and would you classify this hostility as abuse?” Pollard asked.

“No, not really,” You answered. “Just unhealthy and unbearable.”

“So you would file on the grounds of irretrievable breakdown but as our client would state, any such breakdown has not been evident for the required period.” Harin intoned. “In fact, he say you’ve surprised him with such a claim and you would cite no other valid grounds for the divorce.”

“Our marriage has been little more than a shell for the last year,” You said. “As I’ve been informed, it is only six months required to make a claim.”

“But you never made such a claim to your husband, thus how could he recognize and try to reconcile these differences?” Lauer prodded.

“I did. I have a statement from a counselour that confirms that were seeking help nine months ago,” You insisted. 

“We have seen that but you did not attend further after that instance.” Harin argued.

“And… he wouldn’t go,” You accused. “He wouldn’t try any sort of reconciliation.”

“And do you have proof of his refusal?” Lauer asked.

You looked to Donald who shifted in his chair. “It is not required to have proof of this claim,” He said. “She did recognize that the relationship was declining and she made a visible effort to amend that.”

“Once in two years,” Harin countered. “And she would not claim abuse or inhumane cruelty and we’ve heard no mention of adultery.”

“It does not invalidate her claims of irreconcilable differences. You might refer to their schedules and the amount of time they spent apart.” Donald retorted.

“Occupational absence does not account for personal neglect,” Pollard said.

“So…” You looked along the line of lawyers.

“This settlement you’ve offered is completely invalid. There are no grounds for it.” Lauer stated.

“But...but…”

“We cannot allow our client to sign these papers knowing them to be of such questionable validity thus we ask that you withdraw the claim.” Pollard declared. “We have faith that your lawyer is competent enough to agree with us.”

Donald frowned and turned to you. You spun your chair around as he leaned over and whispered quietly. “They’re right.”

“But they can’t disprove my claims,” You hissed.

“Sure but that’s not their job. If we went before a judge, we’d be overruled easily.” He explained. “You’ll have to sign a separation first and wait a year. If it was uncontested, sure, I’d have you out by the end of the week but he’s putting up a fight.”

“A year?” You shook your head.

“Separated. You just have to live apart for a year. No contact required but you have to maintain residency in the state.” 

“Really?”

“We can probably get it signed today, I’m sure,” Donald assured. “It’s the best we can hope for.”

“Fine. If it’s a means to and end.”

You turned back and Donald reached for his briefcase and shuffled around.

“My client proposes that instead of the settlement, that an order of separation might be more appropriate for the circumstance.” Donald said. “Would your client agree?”

Steve looked to Harin and gave a single nod. He wasn’t happy.

“Alright, we’ll have it drawn up and faxed over to your offices to be signed by the end of the week.” Donald said. “Is that agreeable?”

“It is,” Lauer accepted. “In the meantime, we would ask that your client prepares a full statement of her expenses over the next year and we would also require a report of her personal activities within the last year of her marriage.”

“Personal activities?” You said.

“Our client has his own accounted for. We only wish to cover our bases.”

You shrugged and Donald agreed to it. You couldn’t look at Steve. You knew what he was implying. He thought you were unfaithful or was at least petty enough to raise the accusation.

“Are we done here?” You whispered.

💍

Another month and even more wine. Your days had grown endless. When you were at work, you could forget about your legal connection to the asshole who chose to make your nights a living hell. Ever since your failed deposition, he had broken his silence.

It started with a text. Sweet, even. ‘I miss you, we should think this through.’ That was until the separation was finalized. Then they turned nasty; ‘you won’t get away that easily’; ‘we’ll see if you last a year’. Then you changed your number and deleted his. 

That was when it all caught up to you. Your marriage had failed, you’d had to flip your entire life because of him, and now you were all alone in a condo that was way too big for just you. And you couldn’t leave the state until this was all over.

You were awoken one night by the chiming of your phone. You could still the acrid wine on your tongue as you reached for it. A video call? You answered in your sleepy haze and were stunned by the image that met you. The loud slapping that rose from the speakers and the low purr of some unknown woman. Her wavy auburn hair spilled over her shoulders as her round ass clapped against a pelvis. You recognized the hand that gripped her hip.

“This should be you,” Steve said from behind the camera. “Fuck, I wish it was.”

You hung up and fumbled with the phone. It fell onto the floor as you sat up. You turned on the lamp and pressed your palms to the side of your head. What the fuck was that? You let out a grunt of frustration as you heard the phone ringing again. You picked it up and declined the call. You couldn’t block the private number.

You silenced your phone and shoved it in your dresser. You went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. You felt sick to your stomach. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not after that. So you went to the couch and turned on Netflix. It would be a long day at work.

💍

You slept for about an hour before your alarm blared from the other room. You stumbled off the couch to slap the clock and retrieved your phone from the drawer. You gather your clothes for the day and made your coffee. You sat with the steaming mug and unlocked your phone. He’d sent a video. It played automatically. It showed him coming down the woman’s thigh. You deleted it and grumbled at your coffee. 

What the fuck was wrong with him?

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and forced yourself to get dressed. If he called again, you wouldn’t answer. You’d have to change your number; again.

The office was quiet. Thankfully. You had another coffee as you went over logistics and kept an eye on the screen mounted in the corner that showed you every camera in the building. You liked having the view. An alert went up for the bank down the street and you keyed in the response measures. It was a faulty trip.

You looked back to the cameras and your chair almost rolled out from under you. It couldn’t be. You got up and walked to the screen. Steve was just down the hall by the receptionist's desk. Several of your employees were gathered around him. You could hear their voices through your door.

“Fuck,” You swore and thought of locking your office. 

You slipped out into the hall and sneaked down to the bathroom instead. You listened against the door as fragments floated through the air. ‘THE Captain America?’ ‘So honoured to meet you’...

You waited twenty minutes before it all died down. The silence that followed was eerie and you slowly cracked open the door to peer down at your office. You didn’t see anyone. You let out a long breath and stepped out. You tiptoed along and peered down towards the receptionist. All had gone back to their work but chattered here and there about their visitor.

You opened your office door and he was there. He sat in your chair as he swung the seat back and forth. He smirked at you. You blinked and let the door fall closed behind you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Just wanted to see the new gig,” He said. “Must be boring pent up in here all day.”

“Not at all,” You crossed your arms. “Steve, leave.”

“Come on, don’t you miss it?” He ignored you. “You remember how it used to be in the field? You remember when I fucked you on the jet? Or maybe at that little party where we were supposed to be posing as arms dealers. Tight space but we made it work.”

“What is wrong with you?” You marched over to your desk and leaned on it as you glared at him. “You need to go. Now. This is my job.”

“Wouldn’t mind having a go here,” He put his foot up on your desk and crossed his other leg over. “Bend you over. You think you could keep quiet?”

“Steve.” You hissed. “I mean it, go. I work in security. Don’t make me call them.”

“I’m sure they’re all too eager to escort me out,” He taunted. “You really think they would? After I signed their mugs and ridiculous posters.”

“I’ll call the police then,” You said.

“False reports can get you a hefty fine, even some time,” He leaned back in your chair. “Unless you truly think they’ll listen to you?”

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

“Because you still think you’re going to get away,” He said. “And I assure you that last night was just a taste of what I have planned for you.”

“Steve…”

“Steve,” He mimicked breathily, “’Oh, Steve, harder, harder’… I miss that.”

“Well, I don’t,” You sneered. “Last night was disgusting. You are disgusting.” You stared at him. “What happened to you?”

“What happened to us?” He pulled his feet from the desk and sat up. “You said you would be with me forever. You are my wife.”

“Not for much longer, Steve,” You said. “Stop making this worse for yourself.”

“Oh, I’m having a hell of a time,” He stood slowly. “And let me tell you this, that girl, meant nothing. A toy to me. You… oh, I’ll make sure you have something to remember me by.” He rounded the desk. “I’ll make sure you’re never rid of me.”

You reached around blindly as you turned to him and grabbed your stapler. You hit the release as he got closer and held it up shakily.

“Don’t come near me,” You said. “Go.”

“Or what?” He took another step.

“Steve,” You warned.

“Oh, I just want a little fun. How about--”

He tried to grab you and you lunged at him. You hit the stapler as it met his chest and he barely flinched. You pulled it back and held it by the bottom and swung it again. This time, you smacked him in the shoulder and his jaw ticked.

“You’re getting rusty,” He laughed as he knocked the stapler from your hands. 

“Steve,” You backed away and he stopped suddenly.

He looked you up and down and pulled out his phone. He lifted a brow and tucked it away.

“Damn, looks like I’m already running late,” He sighed. “Tony’s not gonna be too pleased but… I’ll let him know you say hi.” He headed for the door as you watched him in terror. “Oh, and… I did mean it. Til death do us part.”

💍

You didn’t see Steve again. A whole week passed and the only hint of his existence were the texts you didn’t read. Ten and a half months to go. You could do it. He was just playing with you. Trying to change your mind. He would admit defeat as soon as the final paper was signed. He had to.

You got home and uncorked your Friday night wine. You’d been abstaining for a while as you didn’t want to make it a habit but you were so on edge, you needed to just chill. You poured a healthy glass and pulled a throw over your shoulders as you sank into the couch. You really didn’t mind living alone.

You almost finished the bottle and laid back on the sofa. You were cozy in the heat of the wine and the fuzzy blanket. You dozed off as soon as the theme of the next episode stopped playing. You floated in a haze and your eyes opened only as a shadow passed on the other side.

You sat up dizzily and glanced around. You gripped your spinning head as you stood and clumsily walked around your front room. It was likely just the television. You shook your head and told yourself it was nothing. You were drunk and falling asleep in front of a screen often left you restless.

You fell back down onto the couch and leaned into it. You skipped the episode back, suddenly awake. Slowly, the alcohol dragged you down and you began to slump against the cushions. Your head began to loll and you felt a warmth brush over your cheek.

“A place like this must get lonely,” Steve’s voice startled you as his breath tickled your skin.

You tried to jump up and caught you below your arms and pulled you back over the couch. You wrestled with him as your vision wobbled. You flailed and kicked as his arm slipped up and he wrapped it around your neck. He squeezed until a weight settled in your limbs and he slowly lowered you to the floor.

“It’s okay, honey,” He slithered as the void welcomed you. “You won’t be lonely anymore.”

💍

You awoke slowly. Your head was heavy from excess. You knew the place but it wasn’t your condo. You laid in the bed you once shared with Steve. You groaned as you stretched your arm across the mattress. It was just you. You sat up and found Steve watching you.

He stood from the chair near the window and you quickly rolled to the other edge of the bed. He jumped across and caught you before you could take another step. He pulled you back and turned so that you were pinned beneath him. You screamed and he covered your mouth.

“I’ve done a lot since you left. A lot of time to think,” He said. “Soundproofing, renovations, redecorating.”

You mumbled into his palm and he rolled his hips against you. 

“All for you.” He snarled. “I’ve waited too long.”

You tried to peel his hand away from your lips and he only clung tighter.

“I got the nursery done though. It’s nice. I think you’ll like it,” He continued. “The only thing I haven’t done is thought of names.”

You finally pried his hand down to your chin and gasped. “Steve, please…”

“I think this might just be the reconciliation we need,” He said. “Don’t you?”

“No,” You begged. “No, Steve, get off--”

“I don’t think you were meant to be a wife. You were meant to be a mommy,” He nuzzled your head. 

“Steve, stop. Get off of me right now. Or--”

“Or what? Doesn’t look good when the soon-to-be ex-wife breaks into her spouse’s house.” He growled. “Something like that, that could lose you your job and it definitely wouldn’t look could in a deposition.”

“Steve,” You sobbed. “You’re hurting me.”

“You hurt me!” He snapped. “You understand?! You hurt me and you’re not going to take my life from me.” 

He pushed himself off you roughly and grabbed the back of your neck as he pulled you up after him. He turned you to him and gripped your head between his large hands.

“You’ll find someone else. Someone who can give you that life, Steve,” You begged. “It’s just not me.”

“It is you.” He sneered. “Only you.”

“Please, don’t--”

“Shut up,” He shouted. “I’m done talking with you. You never listened to me. Ever.” He shoved you away. “So you’re going to listen now.”

You glanced at the door and he caught your chin and turned you back to him.

“You think you can get out of this room? Think you can get past me?” He challenged.

You stared at him and your heart sank. Fight as you might, you could never beat the Captain. He was always one step ahead; in the field and off.

“Answer me,” He rescinded his hand and slapped you across the cheek. “Now.”

You were stunned by the force of the strike. You stumbled back and tears rose in your eyes.

“St-Steve…” You stammered but his eyes were distant. “No, I can’t.” You admitted weakly. “You know I can’t.”

“Finally talking some sense,” He smirked. “Now, we’ll start easy.”

Your lips parted but you didn’t know what else to say. You hung your head. A silent surrender.

“I didn’t hear you,” He mocked. You looked up at him confused. “That’s a ‘yes, husband’.”

You blinked at him. Your lip trembled as you forced the words out and he shuddered in delight.

“Now, you can undress me first.” He said.

You uttered another ‘yes, husband’ and crossed to him. You lifted his tee and he bent to help you sweep it over his head. His eyes never left you. You shakily undid his jeans and you gulped back a sob. It felt like the first time again, except you were shaking from excitement. This was fear.

When at last you bared him of his briefs, he was hard. He stroked himself without shame and rubbed the tip against your shirt. 

“Your turn,” He said.

You stripped a piece at a time. It was mechanical, instinctual. You didn’t think as you dropped your clothes on the floor. You stood before him entirely vulnerable. Naked. You had loved this man once, but you weren’t sure he had ever loved you. Only wanted what he could get out of you. Be it his pleasure, some reassurance of his insecurities, or the life he’d romanticized for so long.

“Turn around,” He commanded and you obeyed with a ‘yes, husband’. He hummed at that. He pushed on your shoulders until you bent. “Grab your ankles… and stay like that.”

He went to the closet and returned. He held straps you’d never seen before. Your sex had never been bland but he’d never gone beyond the usual. Never wanted toys or lube; just you. He secured your wrists to your ankles. He lifted your chin and looked into your eyes.

“I’m gonna fuck you like never before. For all those times I slept on that goddamn couch,” He pushed his mouth against yours. “I’m done holding back.”

He stood and rounded you. He slapped your ass and you almost fell. He steadied you and pushed your feet apart as far as they could go. You were entirely imbalanced, barely able to keep yourself up. His hands slipped down your thighs and back up and he gripped your hips.

He pressed against you and wiggled his hips as his cock rubbed against your ass. 

“It didn’t have to be like this,” He growled. “You made it this way.”

You shook your head and stayed silent. He was too far gone. Whatever you said would only anger him further.

He reached between you and pushed his cock down to your cunt. He eased into you an inch at a time. Your walls resisted him as you were unprepared for the intrusion. As he got further in, it hurt more and more. You whined and he cursed as he slapped your ass so hard it stung.

“Come on, honey,” He bucked his hips and filled you entirely. You cried out at the pain. “I know you can take it.”

He thrust against and you shook. He rocked his hips until your body reacted. Each delve inside grew easier as your arousal leaked from your core. He kept you moving steadily along his cock as his groans swirled around you. His pelvis clapped against your ass.

“Yeah, yeah, this is what I wanted,” He breathed. “This is what I imagined. Only you…”

He moved you against him as his grunts grew deeper and deeper. Your legs trembled and he held your waist tighter as he slammed you back against him. His thrusts turned slower but sharper. He inched your foot forward with his and then the other. He walked you over to the bed until your faced was pressed to the mattress.

He rutted into you harder. You yelped into the bed and seemed riled from the sound.

“Louder! Louder!” He demanded, speeding up until you cried out again and again. “Oh fuck, honey, I missed us so much.” He kneaded your ass hungrily. “Maybe if you had let me fuck you like this before, you never would’ve made such a stupid mistake.”

He sank into you completely and stopped. He pulled out of you but only to flip you onto the bed. You landed on your back awkwardly and bent your legs as they remained bound to your wrist. He climbed up swiftly and was upon you in a moment. He entered you easily and snaked his arms around your thighs as he caught his rhythm.

You bit your lip as you felt your core swelling. He reached down and pressed his thumb against your clit. You squeaked in surprise and his hips moved faster. You mewled as he swirled around your bud and gritted your teeth against the rise.

“Cum for me,” He said. “I know you can, honey.”

You grunted as you couldn’t help but climax. Your walls pulsed around his cock and you quivered violently. Your muscles ached terribly from how you were tangled beneath him and he sped up once more. He curled your back as he raised himself on his knees and lifted your ass off the bed. You felt as if you fold in on yourself.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re going to look so good…” His hand crawled up and spread over your stomach. “With my baby inside of you.”

You closed your eyes and turned your head away.

“Here it comes, honey,” He rasped. “I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna fill you up.”

He exclaimed and you felt his release as it seeped into you. His hips moved spasmodically against you as he slowly lowered your ass and leaned back on his heels as he stilled. He let out a deep snarl and squeezed your thigh.

“Mmmm, I can’t wait…”” He hummed and rubbed your stomach. “I can’t wait to see you grow.”

[gumnut-logic]

It started off as a mild annoyance.

Scott had fallen asleep at his father’s desk. Too much paperwork, most of which he was learning on the fly. Board members doubting his ability to take over from his father and juggle International Rescue. Virgil would kick his ass if he found out. John probably already knew.

Both elder brothers were doing their best to help. Virgil was taking on as much International Rescue as was humanly possible. John was juggling Tracy Industries almost as much as Scott while handling day-to-day IR.

His father’s shoes were massive to fill.

And he left a gaping hole in Scott’s heart.

Waking up with an imprint of his own knuckles on the side of his face and a massive crick in his neck wasn’t the best. Staring at the glow of the twelve reports still awaiting review did nothing to improve his mood.

Briefly wondering how he had managed to sleep what appeared to be at least an hour with no disturbance, he remembered that Virgil was still on the other side of the planet, John was likely busy with that same situation and the two youngest were in bed. Grandma had returned to Kansas to finalise some of Dad’s personal matters.

Scott groaned and let his head fall onto his arms again.

He was so tired.

Something tickled his neck.

Absently, he swiped at it and ended up hitting himself in the head.

A few things between his ears rattled loose.

The tickle climbed down his spine and found his ribcage.

Scott’s eyes widened and he jumped out of the chair, sending it spinning across the floor.

What the-?

It was under his shirt.

There followed a most undignified, full-bodied dance across the comms room as he attempted to get whatever it was out of his shirt.

It didn’t hurt, but it tickled like crazy. He was caught between screaming and uncontrolled giggling.

In the end, he resorted to ripping his shirt off and flinging it across the room.

The tickling stopped.

And was replaced with goose pimples as the pre-dawn breeze wafted across his skin. Scott found himself bare chested and breathing heavily.

He wasn’t afraid of bugs, but that was…strange. He eyed his shirt as if it was going to jump up and bite him.

Of course, that was the moment Gordon wandered through on his way to his morning training. The fish stood at the top of the stairs for a full ten seconds staring at his topless eldest brother standing in the middle of the room, lit only by the blue light of holo-projector on the desk.

“Interesting look there, Scott.”

Scott spared him a glare before grabbing the shirt off the floor. “Lights.”

The comms room lit up. Scott drew some satisfaction as Gordon cringed from the sudden brightness. Fortunately, the little fish scuttled off to his pool and left Scott alone without another annoying word.

There was no bug in or on his shirt. After examining it, he had no choice but to throw it back on, or continue to invite comments from the waking peanut gallery.

The sudden appearance of John on the central projector and the distant roar of the return of Thunderbird Two flicked all thoughts of bugs from his mind as the new day started even before the sun made an appearance.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was exhausted but he didn’t have time to sleep. He did give himself a few moments to sit in the kitchen, worship his bucket of coffee and stare out at Mateo as the sun rose over it. It was only blinding if he focussed on it and he didn’t have the energy to do that.

Two needed repair and she needed it now.

His last rescue had involved a volcano and she had far too many particulates in her filters. They would all need replacing before he felt comfortable taking her out again.

After that he needed to see to Alan and help him set up for the morning’s classes. He quite enjoyed helping his littlest brother, but he enjoyed it much more when he hadn’t been up all night.

But first coffee.

So warm. So inviting.

He closed his eyes as sipped the blessed liquid that was going to give him the energy to get through the rest of the day.

He nearly dropped the mug as something tickled him under his upraised arm.

He saved the mug, but didn’t manage to stifle the high-pitched squawk.

The coffee was deposited carefully, but Virgil was out of his seat and grabbing at his clothing in an energetic frenzy.

There may have been one or two more high pitched squeaks as red flannel was rubbed and scrubbed at frantically.

Out of desperation, Virgil tore off both his shirt and his grey undershirt and threw them on the floor. He resisted the urge to stamp on them.

It was his favourite shirt.

“Virg?”

He looked up to find Gordon, fresh from the pool, standing in the doorway staring at him.

“You okay?”

If Virgil flushed red, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. “Bug in my shirt.”

“Really.”

“Really.” Frowning his grabbed his shirt from off the floor, eyeing it suspiciously. Screw it, he sat down shirtless in front of his coffee and resumed staring out the window.

Gordon walked past him to the stairs, frowning and shooting him the oddest looks.

Virgil ignored him.

-o-o-o-

Scott made it through to lunch and finally dug up the answers the factory manager in Oklahoma had been begging him for. He had also managed to answer the lawyers, read and sign a pile of holographic documents and have a long-delayed meeting with the Japanese CEO. At least John had been able to help with translation. To be honest, it had just been a relief to have a brother to talk to.

Surrounded by family.

Too damned busy.

The last task for the morning was a parent-teacher conversation with Gordon’s curriculum manager. Scott had suspicions that there was a little too much Olympic training happening versus school work. It was a fine balance that had to be maintained. Gordon was a good student, if a little out of the ordinary…but then what Tracy wasn’t? At least two were diagnosed geniuses, and the other three focussed on their goals to the point of blindness, himself included.

His short Air Force career flickered through his mind and he shunted it away.

He was where he needed to be. Fate saw to that.

Scott stepped into the sunken lounge and briefly wondered if he was going to be allowed to leave this room today at any point.

A resigned sigh and he his comms. “Gordon, time for the meeting.”

“FAB. Be there in two.”

Gordon was true to his word and appeared almost immediately, loud shirt and shorts as eye blasting as usual.

Scott reached out dropped a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. At sixteen, already Gordon’s accomplishments required a cabinet to hold all the trophies. With the loss of their father, Gordon had stumbled with the rest of them, but he was regaining his feet fast. He had to. This was his chance. The 2056 Olympics waited for no excuses.

This time it started on his wrist.

The faintest of tickles.

It was a tickle, not an itch. It played with nerve endings just like someone had their finger gently brushing across the surface of his skin.

It travelled up his arm as he snatched his hand away from his brother.

It was in his shirt again.

There were words as he once again found himself grabbing at his shirt.

“Scott, what?”

He was vaguely aware of the concerned expression on his brother’s face, but he was too busy trying not to giggle or scream.

His shirt ended up on the floor again.

Gordon stared at him a full five seconds, his face caught between incredulity, worry and hysterical laughter. Being Gordon, the laughter won out.

Scott ignored him and poked his shirt with his foot.

Of course, that was the moment John flickered in to advise that the curriculum manager was ready for the meeting. Scott had to admit that somewhere in the back of his wasted brain, there was something quite funny about the expression on the space monitor’s face.

Gordon, of course, had tears running down his face and was useless.

Scott had a lot of experience keeping his composure. He needed it all at the moment. “John, could you please ask Ms Smithson to hold for a moment, I need to grab a shirt.”

John bit his lip, obviously holding something back. But, ever the professional, he didn’t say anything but, “FAB,” before blinking out.

Scott picked up his shirt with two fingers and made a beeline for his bedroom.

At least he got a moment outside of the comms room.

-o-o-o-

A new shirt found, Scott made it through the interview. Turned out Gordon had been really working hard and with a small adjustment to his curriculum, he should be able to manage both his training and his graduation with only a small delay. Scott was satisfied that it would be the best for the athlete at this time.

The grin on Gordon’s face made it extra worthwhile.

Scott turned back to the desk after the meeting, but the list of messages awaiting his attention just hurt to look at.

Screw it. He deserved food, another room and maybe even some brotherly conversation. A quick check on Virgil’s location placed him, as expected, in the hangars. The engineer had not been happy that his ‘bird had suffered during last night’s rescue. Virgil was as bad as he was. His brother hadn’t slept, International Rescue his highest priority.

Scott sighed. How could they be expected to go ahead like this?

Lunch. Food. He struggled to focus his mind. Had he had breakfast? He couldn’t remember.

An elevator ride and he walked out into the cool underground caverns that housed the great green behemoth that was the love of his brother’s life.

It wasn’t hard to locate that brother. The profanity was extreme for Virgil and it had Scott quickening his step around the great plane. He found him harnessed and hanging in front of Two’s starboard intake. The swearing was moving into European languages, never a good sign.

Scott shouted up at the dangling engineer. “Virgil?!”

“What?!” A spanner fell and hit the concrete two metres in front of Scott. Despite himself, he jumped.

Virgil stared down at him owlishly for a whole handful of seconds. “Sorry.” It was muttered, honest, but grudging.

“Can you come down?”

“Why?”

“It’s lunch time.”

“I’m not hungry. I’ve got to get this done. I’ve got to replace part of the filter housing.”

“Well, I am hungry and you haven’t slept. Come down.”

“I’m fine! This can’t wait!”

“Damnit, Virgil, get down here now!”

The glare that hit him from above was dark and fuelled from the bottom of a desperate coffee pot. Scott had no doubt of that.

But one more muttered expletive and his brother rappelled down to the concrete floor. Dressed in flannel with his maintenance harness secured over ratty jeans, Virgil was covered in dust and grime.

Didn’t dull his fury though.

The fact he was so angry, so out of character for the generally calm and quiet engineer was more than enough proof that his brother needed rest.

“What do you want, Scott. I have to fix my ‘bird otherwise she can’t fly and we can’t answer the next call.”

“I’m having some serious doubts we can answer the next call anyway. Look at yourself, Virgil. You’re exhausted.”

“Kettle, pot, Scott.”

“Exactly! Eat lunch with me.”

Those dark brows wrinkled even further, brown eyes making that subtle switch between engineer and concerned brother.

Scott supposed he should have expected this. Maybe he was asking for it, hiding from a decision he knew he was going have to make.

Offering himself up as a sacrifice in order for Virgil to make the decision for him.

He was so goddamned tired.

This time the tickle started on his calf, just above his right sock.

He wriggled, frowning, shifting his feet.

It climbed up his leg and he let out a squawk somewhere between a giggle and a profane word that would have had Grandma washing his mouth out with soap.

“Scott?”

It was running around and around his thigh. Scott cracked and grabbed at his leg, spinning on the spot as Virgil reached for him.

Whatever it was, it was fast. Up and down his leg as if anticipated his attempts to grab it through his jeans.

“Scott, what is…oh, shit!”

The eldest Tracy spun to find Virgil hanging upside down in his harness grabbing at his shirt.

The tickle in Scott’s leg took the opportunity to breach his waist band and play with his navel.

Buttons flew across the hangar as Scott tore the shirt from his body.

There was nothing on his belly.

Virgil squawked and writhed, still upside down.

The tickle appeared back in Scott’s pants, this time behind his left knee. He didn’t hesitate, shedding his shoes, he shucked his pants and tossed them aside.

Finally, finally the ticklish feeling stopped. But Scott was left in his black short briefs and socks.

And damn it was cold in the hangars.

Virgil was still writhing upside down, unable to shed clothing due to his harness. “Goddamnit, Scott, help.” There was the sound of ripping flannel as heavy lifting muscles resorted to force.

Scott grabbed at his brother’s harness and wrapping an arm around those broad shoulders, released the safety line. Virgil weight was considerable, but Scott stabilised him enough for the engineer to get his feet beneath him. A fumble with the harness buckles and the support fell to the concrete with a clink of its metal links.

Torn flannel followed.

Two layers of shirt stripped, Virgil suddenly took a deep breath and dropped his hands to his knees, letting his head drop. “It’s stopped.”

Both brothers heaved in air for a moment.

“What the hell was that?” Virgil looked up at Scott.

“I have no idea. Third time this morning.”

“Second.” Virgil’s voice was all breath.

“Happened before?”

Virgil nodded. “Over coffee.” A frown. “Gordon came in afterwards. This isn’t a new prank is it?”

Scott stared at his brother for a moment. “Gordon was there both times this morning.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped. “I’m going to kill him.”

“He’s not here now.” Scott looked around before hesitantly poking his shirt enough to activate his comms. “Thunderbird Five, could you give me a location on Gordon?”

“Scott? You okay?”

“I will be once I find Gordon.”

“He’s on the pool deck, apparently studying. The meeting went well?”

Scott frowned. “Yes, a few small changes will make room for his training. Gordon was very happy with the plan.” Could explain the studying.

“That’s great news.”

“Yes, it is.” He wondered how happy John would be if he could see him standing in his underwear next to a shirtless Virgil.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

Perhaps his brother didn’t need to see. “I’ll let you know after I’ve spoken to Gordon.”

“Okay. Remember fratricide is not an option.”

“Don’t spoil it for me.”

-o-o-o-

A clean pair of pants and two shirts later they found Gordon exactly where John said he would be. The sixteen-year-old was camped out on a pool lounger with a portable holoprojector, his tablet and even a print book open beside him.

“Gordon?” The strawberry blond head remained focussed on the tablet.

“Gordon!”

Scott jumped. Hell, Virgil could yell when he needed to.

Gordon looked up calmly. “Virg? Something wrong?” Scott watched his little brother take in their state of undress. Neither of them had shoes on or had done up their shirts, just in case. “What are you guys doing?”

“What do you think?” He stepped down onto the pool deck, gesturing to his open shirt. “This is on you, and you know it.”

A blink. “Know what?”

Beside Scott, Virgil lost it. God, a tired Virgil was a cranky Virgil. “What did you put in our clothes?”

“Er, nothing?” Gordon appeared to realise he was tackling the family bear in a fury, a rare, but never good thing. He put down his tablet and stood up, backing away a little. “Now, Virg, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Another step back. “Uh, no. I really have no idea what you are talking about.” Pleading eyes darted to Scott.

If Scott wasn’t so tired, he might have found the whole reversal of roles between himself and Virgil somewhat ironic. As things were, he reached out and gently wrapped his hand around Virgil’s arm.

His hand only made it part way around one bulging bicep. When the hell had that happened? He tugged gently. “Virg…”

That resulted in a pair of furious brown targeting him. “What?! He could have caused a serious accident. What if it happened while I was up in the intakes? Whatever the hell he did, it was dangerous.”

Okay, so Virgil had a point.

Gordon held up his hands. “Honest, guys, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“So, you know nothing about an…irritant in our clothing?” Scott stared him down.

“Uh, no?”

He held his little brother’s expression a moment longer. It would likely have been even longer, but Gordon suddenly frowned.

And grabbed at his pants. “What the hell?”

Both Scott and Virgil stared as Gordon started dancing around the pool deck tearing at his clothes. His squawk turned into a giggle as he squirmed. “Omigod, stop!” The giggle became a laugh and Scott found himself holding back from joining in. Beside him Virgil snorted before running in to help their struggling little brother.

He needn’t have bothered. Gordon gave out an exaggerated laugh before throwing himself in the pool.

The sudden silence was almost shocking.

“Gordon!” Virgil stood on the side of the pool staring down at his brother under the water. Two strides and Scott was beside him as Gordon resurfaced, hair in his face, gasping and shirtless.

“Oh my god, that was hilarious!” He coughed out another laugh and threw his shirt onto the deck. “I want to know how you did that.” Gordon grinned up at them.

“We didn’t do it.” Virgil’s voice was sharp.

“Wha-? You’re kidding?”

Scott shook his head as Gordon levered himself out of the pool.

“Then who? And how?” The swimmer shook the water out of his hair and coated his brothers in the process. At Virgil’s snarl, Gordon’s grin was unrepentant.

Well, when he looked at it that way, there were only two possible choices and this was not a Brains concept in the slightest.

It was Gordon who said it first. “Alan? Where are you? That was so cool! You gotta show me how you did it!”

Scott didn’t expect an answer. He expected to have to hunt his little brother down like he had Gordon, oh, so many times. So, he was surprised when Alan slunk out of the kitchen with some kind of remote in his hands.

“Alan?” Virgil’s voice spoke of the shock Scott was attempting to process in his head. Alan was a good student. Precocious and bright, but far from the prankster his brother was.

Gordon bounced over to his little brother. “That was so cool! How did you do it?”

“Nanobots.”

“Nanobots.” The word fell from Virgil’s mouth. “You used medical technology for a prank?”

Scott reached out and grabbed Virgil’s arm again. “Alan, explain yourself.”

The boy’s shoulders dropped. “Failed experiment for school.”

Scott blinked. “What?” None of this was making sense.

And suddenly he was shot with a pair of anguished eyes. “I only wanted to make you laugh!”

Scott stared.

The bicep under his hand wilted.

“Allie?” Gordon’s voice was curious, but soft.

Those blue eyes shifted to the fish. “They don’t smile anymore, much less laugh. So, I thought a little medical intervention might help.” And those hurting eyes flickered to Virgil.

The sound that issued from the engineer was heartbreaking.

While Scott’s brain was uncharacteristically caught in freefall, Gordon presented a parachute. “You made ticklebots?!” His amber eyes were wide with amazement.

As always, Gordon’s joy was infectious and Alan relaxed just a little, a small smile curving his lips. “Yeah, kinda.”

Gordon bounded over and grabbed his brother in a massive hug. “I am so proud!”

Scott let go of Virgil and took several of the steps between himself and his little eleven-year-old brother.

Gordon continued to gush, asking a range of technical questions with such enthusiasm that the small corner of Scott’s mind that was still functioning alerted him that this could be a bad thing for his future sanity.

But right now, he was fixated by those blue eyes, so reflective of his own that were staring up at him.

“Alan?”

Gordon stopped his babbling, but took up a defensive position beside his little brother. Something inside Scott bent and broke just a little.

But his focus was on Alan.

Those blue eyes looked down, breaking contact. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you laugh.”

“So, you tried to tickle us?”

Defiance shot those eyes back up. “Well, I wasn’t going to drug you, was I? Nothing else was working! You and Virgil are just so sad and busy and John is never here anymore and…and…no one laughs anymore!” A frown. Those eyes flickered past Scott and crumpled. “And you’re crying again.”

Scott turned and found Virgil struggling with his emotions, a tear running down his face. Aw, shit.

Alan turned away and took a retreating step, but a blur of red flannel and the youngest was swept up in desperate hug. “I’m sorry, Allie.”

A muffled “’s’not your fault.” But Alan was clinging to his brother like a life raft.

Scott blinked several times. The thought that his genius little brother had to resort to technology out of desperation to see a smile hurt somewhere deep down where he had buried his own tears.

An amber gaze saved him from drowning. Gordon stood on the other side of Virgil and Alan, his shoulders straightening. “So, Allie, can I borrow your bots?”

With that single sentence, the moment snapped with a chorused “No!” from the both eldest. Virgil tumbled backwards in his haste to stand up.

Gordon feigned innocence. “Why not? I have my own experiment to perform. You know, for mental health reasons.”

“No, Gordon.” Scott’s tone was full commander, but the fish just grinned up at him. Hell, he was caught wondering if Gordon would ever obey him.

“Gordon.” Virgil’s voice had that deep grumble of warning.

The fish shrugged and relented. “Eh, your loss. It was going to be brilliant.”

“Sure.” Scott’s tone dripped sarcasm.

“But!” Gordon grinned. “Allie wins the trophy for the concept and invention!” He wrapped an arm around his little brother’s shoulders. “I am so proud.”

Alan smiled up at the fish with appreciation.

Scott held out his hand and those shoulders dropped, the smile disappearing.

“Alan.”

More the reluctant and pouting tween he was, his little brother handed over the remote. Scott glanced at it before handing it off immediately to Virgil. The engineer would be able to make more sense of it than he ever would.

Scott held out an arm and blue eyes stared up at him for just a split second before dashing into the hug the eldest was desperate to give him. Both arms wrapped around Alan and he buried his face in blond hair. “I’m sorry, Allie.”

“’S not your fault.”

“Doesn’t matter. I will try to do better.”

“’S not your fault.”

A glance in Virgil’s direction only to find the big man fighting back tears again. Even Gordon’s expression was a little broken…until he realised Scott was looking at him, then the goofiest of grins split his face and he crossed his eyes.

The laugh that fell from Scott’s lips was almost strangled by a sob.

The devilry that suddenly appeared on that face overrode every other thought with mild fear.

Gordon didn’t disappoint. Sliding up behind a teary Virgil, he darted in and tickled their bear of a brother.

Virgil squawked and wriggle danced out of reach.

Scott couldn’t help it.

He laughed again.

“C’mere, Virgie, I wanna ticklebot you!” Gordon exaggerated tickling fingers at his brother before jumping into what became a hilarious chase around the pool.

Scott couldn’t help but grin even more.

Alan outright laughed.

And something lifted just a little from Scott’s chest.

“Thank you, Allie.”

Surprised blue shot up at him.

“You’re right. We need to laugh more.”

Virgil ended up in the pool.

Gordon jumped in after him.

And Scott hugged his littlest brother so much closer.

-o-o-o-

The afternoon relaxed into together time. Phones rang but were ignored. John was dragged down from orbit. The barbecue was lugged out, food found and cooked for dinner and a comfortable feeling that had been absent since their father had been lost, found its way onto the Island.

Gordon cherished it.

Virgil continued to be a touch emotional during the entire time, grabbing random brothers and attempting to smother them with his arms. Scott was quieter, but even Gordon noticed he was far from Alan at any point that entire afternoon and evening. John was quietly puzzled about the whole thing until he suddenly grabbed at his shirt and jumped and jiggled about.

“Oh, so that’s how it works.” Virgil was staring down at the remote control in his hand, poking at it.

John let out a squawk and fell onto the couch writhing.

His shirt was thrown off moments later.

“Hey, Alan, how do you turn them off?”

Therein followed some discussion on Alan and Virgil’s part, followed by Scott and his two cents when he felt it appropriate.

John started yelling at them after a very short period of time, still writhing on the sofa.

Gordon thought it was absolutely hilarious and had trouble keeping his feet while laughing.

All in all, it was a fantastic afternoon and evening.

Scott fell asleep on the couch with his arm wrapped around a snoozing Alan five minutes into the movie Gordon had chosen. Virgil lasted another five minutes before caving into a faceplant on one of the cushions. His snores made it difficult to hear the movie, but the remaining three brothers cared not a whit. By the time John joined them in the land of the exhausted, the movie was little more than soundscape.

But Gordon wouldn’t have it any other way.

This was something that they had been missing for so long. Gordon sat there fake watching the movie and honestly holding back a few tears at the thought. Alan was right. They needed more laughter. His big brothers, John included, were shouldering so much now their father was no longer with them, and yes, his thoughts stumbled on that acknowledgement. God, he missed his dad. But they all had to do their part.

If there was something Gordon wanted to do, it was bring back the laughter. If it took itching powder and dye, if it took silly hats and fake tattoos, if it took everything he had, he would see his brothers happy.

They all had to do their part.

And he would make this his.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[cloudycrystalkpop]

SMOKY | Hell Below

Blind! Prince! Mingi x [unstated skin deformity] fem! reader

Words: 2k+

Warnings: self harm, possessiveness, demonic interaction

au: crown royal au | moodboard

series masterlist: SMOKY

~

Seonghwa paced back and forth in front of your door. He was placed on guard duty this evening and it was slowly torturing him.

Normally he would never complain, more than happy to forgo his own rest to know that his princess slept safe and sound. However, he was very aware that at the moment, his princess was not sleeping at all.

He gritted his teeth as he heard your voice moan out a name in pleasure. The name of your husband. A name that wasnt his.

Seonghwa squared his shoulders. He had made you a promise, one a very very long time ago.

When he was the man having you sing such pretty praises. When he wrote his name in calligraphy with his tongue between your thighs.

A promise he painted into your skin, one very late night. Kissing every patch that made you shy. Every inch that your family frowned upon. Every piece you had ever wanted to burn off.

"I will protect you, until the day my heart stops beating, And surely even after."

he is more than just a knight. No, after holding you, bare as the day you were born, shaking in his arms. After the words of hate and disgust at the case your very soul lived in, at watching you take blades to try and peel the unwanted flesh away, he would never ever let you hurt yourself again.

He would never abandon you, even if you took his heart right out of his chest, it was always yours anyway.

Seonghwa held his head in his hands. He was always yours anyway.

"They sure are loud huh?" Seonghwa jumped and reached for the sword on his belt at the voice.

"Sorry, bad night?" Hongjoong asked, standing before the heartbroken man.

"Yeah just, stuck in my own head." Seonghwa admitted. The other man nodded, scanning him with curious eyes.

"You and your princess sure are, close." he stated. The words curled on his tongue, watching Seonghwa flitched as the sound of a high pitched groan came from the lover's room.

"We... Used to be." he replied.

"I see. Makes sense why youre not so fond of that Duke." he quirked an eyebrow, a sly grin pulling at his features. "Hey, you wanna know a secret~" the man purred.

"Not tonight Hongjoong. Im not in the mood for your teasing." Seonghwa frownd.

"Hmm~ if you say so." his smile pulled into a playful childlike one, before Hongjoong skipped off down the hall, leaving Seonghwa alone with his thoughts once more.

~

Hongjoong purred to himself as he glanced over his shoulder as the knight stood at the lovers door. Lust is a very powerful tool in his bag of tricks, one that, it looks like, will do him very, very well.

~

you spent your days now often with Yeosang, his experience and wisdom helping you greatly in easing your nerves. he told you many stories, explained much about the kingdom you had never dared to venture around in.

whenever you did leave your family's estate, it was always with Seonghwa as your loyal guard. a long veil to hide you away from the world, or heaven forbid you simply, existing taint your family name.

you remembered the day The King died. he was an old man, had been sick for years. while not beloved by his people, he was well respected, and yet. when he passed, no one knew anything about him. there was no mourning, for there was no loss.

The Queen had fully stepped into power then, ten years younger than her husband she was more than capable of leading. and so it had been since your early teens. The Queen was now however, ready to pass her power, rather than see it out live her too, just like her husband.

and that, was where the crown prince and princess had come in. the pair lost at sea in a tragic shipwreck, the kingdom scrambling to find a new replacement. you and Mingi were nobles, sure. second rate royals even, your father once a prince, a second born. Mingi was next in line to become a Duke, chosen over Yeosang for your hand in marriage for, such a trivial reason. or so you thought.

“my family comes from the Valley, My Lady. Lord Mingi’s comes from the Sea.” Yeosang explained, an, almost forlorn look in his eye. “when yourself and your husband were married, it showed a joining of the land and the sea. loosening trade deals with other lands, its... business I'm afraid.”

“that’s all marriage is good for after all anyway. its just business.” you gazed off out the window, watching the roses sway in the morning breeze. the garden was beautiful, flowers in full bloom.

“I’m sorry you feel so my lady. but, you must admit how darling and romantic an idea it is.” Yeosang followed your gaze.

“to be married?” you wondered.

“the prince of the sea, wed to the princess of the forest. and a man who cannot see, tied to a woman never allowed to be seen.” he hummed softly.

“sounds like a horrible tragedy of a play to me.” you shook your head, eyes falling to your lap. “I should have a word with the playwright.”

“would you have preferred a different ending?” Yeosang wondered, dropping his head down to force you to look him in the eye. you chuckled, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile.

“I haven't decided.” you answered. “...are the flowers in the valley in bloom this time of year?” you asked.

“oh yes. the wild flowers were always my favorite as a boy. my sisters and I used to go out and make crowns out of them.” his voice was soft, eyes far away. caught in a memory from boyhood.

“...will you take me there some time, Yeosang?” his gaze focused back on you once more.

“if you wish to see it My Lady.” he grinned. “I will braid you a crown so lovely the royal jewels will be jealous.”

“promise me?” your voice betrayed you. a crack of pain hidden away there.

such a very different ending you could have had. one where you could spend your life safe, hidden away from the judgment and piercing eyes your mother always frightened you of. flowers in your hair, children at your feet, a husband who could provide for your every need. free to play in the forest of your childhood. there was no judgment from the trees, nor would you find it in the open fields.

“you have my word... My Lady.”

but your life was no fairy tale. you were to be queen of a kingdom you barely knew. sure, you had a husband, a man to wear the title of “king”, but both you and Mingi knew, the queen is the most powerful piece on the board.

~

“My little Prince~” you called to the darkness of the room as you returned to your chambers for the evening. “Mingi?” you cooed once more, looking around for the tall man.

“we need to talk.” you nearly screamed, the voice was not your husband’s. upon turning on your heel, you came face to face with...

“Seonghwa! you nearly had me jump out of my skin!” you huffed, smacking the man on the side of his arm.

“hey! I'm sorry I scared you but, I'm serious.” he sighed, rubbing his arm.

“very well.” you huffed, seating yourself on the plush bed and waiting for his explanation. Seonghwa shuffled, changing his weight from one foot to the other, gaze fixed on the floor. “well? when did you become so awkward?”

“since I had to listen to you having sex for hours last night.” he growled. your ears glowed hot, but you choked the embarrassment down.

“I am sorry, I'm sure that was a bit.. uncomfortable-”

“you don’t get it do you, Princess.” he lifts his eyes to meet yours. “I love you.”

a lump forms in your throat. you do not move, only stare him down, unblinking, unreactive.

“I have been in love with you for almost five years now. I was the one who took your virginity, I was the one who held you when you cried, I was the only who protected you from the evils of this world. and I-” his voice cracked. Seonghwa, your loyal knight in shining armor, the one who had been by your side for the better half of your life, was in tears before you.

“I love you! I'd do anything for you! I've been with you since you were just a young girl! I've stood beside you through everything! and I can't pretend that it doesn't hurt me anymore!” his eyes sparkled with tears, cheeks damp and voice horse.

“... I-” you never got a chance to finish your thought as the door swung open once more.

Mingi stood in the doorway, blank eyes staring straight ahead of him, his face blank of any emotion.

“get. out. of. our. room.” never had you heard the intimidation in Mingi’s voice before. his voice rumbled deep in his chest, but his tone now, was that of a final, deadly warning.

Seonghwa stared at Mingi, shoulders taught, fists clenched. but he didn't say a word.

“...you are dismissed Seonghwa.” you finally broke the tense silence between the two man.

“as you wish, My Princess.” Seonghwa made his way towards the door, stepping past Mingi, only to be halted by said man shoving him against the wood, hard.

“if you dare, to even think of touching my wife, if even the thought of her in such context even passes your mind,” he growls. “I will have you executed for adultery.”

Mingi stepped away from a very shocked Seonghwa.

“she may be your Princess, but she will be your Queen. and never, for a moment forget, she will only be your queen, and she is my wife.” and with that he slammed the door shut.

~

Mingi developed a possessiveness over you, you must admit you didn’t expect. the once shy boy who could barely speak to you, now kept one hand on your person at all times you were together. when asked he said he preferred you guide him over a staff member. but you know by now Mingi knew this castle perfectly fine. he didn't need help or a guide anymore. he was lying.

he also got rather upset if you were left alone with another person too long, without himself or his chosen guard close by. his chosen guard? Hongjoong.

you woke one morning to find bruises so deep on your hips and chest they looked like black ink in the mirror. Mingi was marking you now. like you were something that belonged to him.

knowing who you needed to speak with, you snuck away one morning, before the sun rose. to find Hongjoong.

~

“your highness! what a pleasant surprise~” the handsome man cooed.

“may I speak with you? in private.” you glanced to the rest of the guard, Seonghwa the only one not meeting your gaze.

“oh? absolutely. please, come with me.” Hongjoong lead you out into the gardens, just as the first touches of dawn peeked over the skyline.

“alright creature. out with it. what have you done to the prince.” you growled, arms crossed as you glared at Hongjoong.

“such mean words from the ‘princess’ herself~” he smiled a grin, one a little too long and a little too wide for his face.

“why are you here?”

“what a stupid question! you already know that answer~ otherwise you wouldn’t have asked to speak to me, alone.”

“fine, who summoned you?”

Hongjoong chuckled, one in tone too deep for the voice he speaks with. “the dead king of course. but that was a long time ago you see.”

“speak to me truthfully creature, did you make a deal with Mingi?” you glared him down. while your experience with his kind was limited, you understood the one true weakness they had. they cannot directly lie.

Hongjoong grinned once more, that same unnatural once, the one that extended too far up his face, showing teeth a human man wouldn’t have. his eyes crinkled at the edges in the grin, the white parts of his eyes turning dark as a bruise.

“no.”

you held back a whimper at his voice. inhuman. demonic. bloodcurdling.

“...thank you. you are dismissed.” you blinked, and the man was back as he was. charming smile and handsome features glowing once again in the dawn.

“as you wish, your highness.” and with that, he walked back into the castle. leaving you alone in the garden, a ring of dead grass surrounding where the pair of you had stood.

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 5.7k of the unsinkable 8 during the zombie apocalypse. good for fans of leatin and goodfoe. it’s super unedited and i’m mainly just posting it for fun cause i finished it today. some references to world war z the book for fun, and i used the zombies from that too.

A flash of blonde and Dot’s gun went up, pointed directly at the head of whatever made their way toward her. She had two bullets left, six cigarettes, and the last mini of hard liquor she raided from the motel back in Aquilla.

She’d have to get it in one shot, which would be hard sitting down, with her back to it, half delirious.

She grunted as she pulled herself around, her leg still out in the makeshift splint. The zed crept closer, not going at the usual hobbling pace. It definitely had caught her scent though, maybe it was down a few limbs already.

She cocked her gun, flicking off the safety, keeping her finger off the trigger. She’d wait until she could see the whites of its eyes. Get it in one shot.

The blonde head crept closer and she finally tucked her gun over the rocks, making eye contact with it for the first time.

“Shelby Goodkind?”

“Dot Campbell?”

Shelby stared at her, lowering her own gun and Dot let out a breath of relief.

“Dottie, oh my god, I thought you were one of ‘em.” She put away her gun, Dot doing the same and she ran over. “It’s so good to see ya, what’s wrong?” She looked at the leg, her face paling.

“Ankles broken,” Dottie muttered. “Was gonna treat myself to one last drink,” she gestured at the bottle.

“Oh lord,” Shelby said. “Well that’s no good, I got a place not to far from here I’ve been camping out in. Some first aid stuff too.”

“I can’t give you anything back for it,” Dot said.

“We both know two people are more likely to make it,” Shelby said.

She looked sunburned and hollowed out, a little hungrier than the last time Dot saw her, headed with her family to that military base. She was alone, and desperate, everyone was. Because here was how it went in Texas. You could trust a stranger as far as you could throw ‘em, but you needed people to live. So if you had people, you lived. And Dot was people, or as close to people as Shelby was willing to get. She musta lost a lot to lower her standards so far.

“Alright,” Dot said. “We’re gonna have to go slow and you’re gonna have to carry a lot of shit.”

“No problem,” Shelby beamed.

Back at the camp, an old rusting trailer with some battery Shelby told her she was saving for a rainy day, Shelby re-splinted her, fed and watered her, and they pooled their resources. Twenty-six cigs now, which might get ‘em a few hours in a safe car north, if they wanted it. Or it might get ‘em some food, or a get out of jail free card, depending on the hunger of the people hunting ‘em.

It was late at night when Dot realized she hadn’t even asked yet.

“Family’s gone then?”

“Yeah,” Shelby said. “You?”

“My dad died before this shit show,” Dot said.

“Lucky,” Shelby said. She took a swig from the mini, and passed it over to Dot. “What’s your plan?”

“I heard there was a safer spot near San Antonio,” Dot said. “Running water and shit.”

Shelby shook her head, “Gone, three weeks ago. Heard it on the radio.”

Dot nodded, “What about you?”

“Radio said Hawaii’s better,” Shelby said. “There’s an operation ferrying people there on the west coast. It’s a thousand cigs per person. But there’s work by the dock if you’re willing to do it.”

“Work for you?” Dot asked.

Shelby’s jaw tightened, “I’ll do what I have to do. Lord forgive me.”

Dot sighed, “Sounds like we go west then.”

They hung around in the trailer for three days, pushing the limits of what was safe, and stumbled on to a new place in the area at daybreak on the fourth day. Dot’s ankle wasn’t broken, with the inflatable cast Shelby had in a week or so she’d be something regarding useful, and as long as she didn’t push herself she’d be more than fine.

Spending time with Shelby Goodkind was another story. For one thing, despite the zombie apocalypse, complete destruction of their lives and modern society, the death of her family and everyone in their town, Shelby was still good and kind. She’d clutch at the cross around her neck every time they’d pass a body, and would never touch one, even the ones that were recent and obviously not stripped clean. It made Dot kinda mad, she found five cigs just walking, and she wondered how many Shelby passed off being squeamish.

But Shelby also wasn’t squeamish, wasn’t afraid to take down a zed with a kitchen knife, and with that same hand wipe the gore off Dot all gentle. She called her Dottie, gave her the last blanket, and always volunteered for the first shift so Dot could watch the sunrise. Dot hadn’t been cared for in a long while, hadn’t been around people in even longer. She decided she might love it.

But Shelby was a magnet, always had been, she talked about god’s light long enough that she got Dot believing it all fell on her. It wasn’t a real surprise when she showed up with a stray.

“What the fuck,” Dot said. “Did you kidnap a child?”

“I did not kidnap a child,” Shelby said, picking the girl up with some difficulty and lifting her onto the backseat of the broken down minivan they were holed up in.

“I sent you out to get sunscreen,” Dot said. “How did you come back with a child?”

“She’s our age,” Shelby said. “I think. And listen, I found her barricaded in a utility closet with a bad fever, I knew we had some tablets but I didn’t wanna leave her.”

“Like bite fever?” Dot asked. “We don’t have enough bullets to—”

“No,” Shelby shook her head, “Look,” she gently unwrapped a bandage around the girl’s arm, revealing a bad slice. “It’s infected. Not a bite. We’re okay.”

Dot sighed and nodded. The girl’d probably try and rob ‘em blind but if they watched her hands and got away fast enough they should be fine. They’d be fine.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Dot muttered. Shelby smiled, all sweet and gentle and bright and Dot rolled her eyes.

The girl took the tablets, they washed and changed the bandages, after about fourteen hours she blinked awake, unfortunately while Dot was on watch.

“Who—who are you?”

“Dot Campbell,” she said.

The girl stared at her.

“My friend saved your ass,” Dot said. “Shelby.”

“Um,” the girl inched back, “Why? Where am I?”

“We’re on the twenty-two, not from from the ten-eighty,” Dot told her. “You got a nasty infection there, got any cigs?”

“No, I don’t smoke.”

Dot blinked at her. “Alright then.”

“My friends will be looking for me,” the girl said. “I should get back to them.” She didn’t have an accent, Dot realized, not even a thin one like her own.

“Shelby found you around Mr. K’s, we can draw you a map if you’d like,” Dot said. “Where you from?”

“Austin,” the girl lied, badly.

“Alright then,” Dot said again. “Well we’ll draw you a map in the mornin and you can leave a day break. It ain’t far.”

“Thank you,” the girl said. “For helping me.”

“Shelby’s idea,” Dot said. Neither of ‘em slept the whole time, the girl smart enough to keep an eye out, and Dot’s whole job to watch out. She woke Shelby up when she was supposed to and easily muddled into a slumber.

A nice thing, about the zombie apocalypse, was Dot had gotten a lot better at sleeping. She used to stay up for hours thinking ‘bout how she’d pay the bills, how much her dad’s meds cost, whether he was coughing more that night than he did most nights, but now she hit whatever soft looking rock she decided to call a pillow and conked out until Shelby woke her. Shelby, on the other hand, barely slept a wink, shooting up at the slightest sign of trouble, even when Dot was on watch. Too much time on her own, Dot’d guess.

Before Shelby Mateo wandered with Dot. He was quiet and sweet and she had took care of him as best she could. Shelby didn’t have nobody before Dot. Just her dead parents, and if Dot remembered eighth grade soccer well enough, a couple of dead siblings too.

So Dot pretty much conked out and missed the way the girl and Shelby giggled all night. But even she wasn’t blind to their bond when she woke, the way the girls smiled easily at one another, laughed with each other, kept up with each other.

“Dottie,” Shelby said. “Martha,” so that was the stranger’s name “said you told her we could draw her a map but Mr. K’s ain’t far, we might as well take her.”

Dot grunted, she didn’t wanna waste a day but it wasn’t like Mr. K’s would take all day and they might as well see if they could find any more cigs. She hadn’t met any non-smokers in a long while. Apocalypse sorta took the fun out of being straight-edge, if Dot had to guess.

Dot took the back, a metal bat out and ready, and Shelby and Martha took the front. Shelby had a makeshift spear made, good for longer range, but worse up close, and she gave Martha the other bat they had. To borrow, Dot had emphasized.

One of the other things that never got old about the apocalypse, was walking up a highway. Walking straight up that middle line, knowing no one would dare drive a car ‘round there. It felt like the world was yours and empty, like you were finding it, rebuilding it, building it. It was as close to a cowboy as she had felt since her daddy let her ride on his back. It was as close to free as she had ever felt.

They got back to Mr. K’s and Dot saw the approaching figures first, aiming her rifle right at ‘em, safety off and gun cocked, but her finger off the trigger. It was Shelby’s hunting rifle, actually, but she had handed it to Dot first chance she had, looking kinda pale. She had Dot’s old handgun now, useless with this kinda range.

“Live ones?” Shelby asked.

“Can’t tell,” Dot said. “Just kinda standing there.”

“They could be waiting for me,” Martha said. Dot glanced at her, hoping the girl wasn’t actually as naive as she seemed. She probably was.

They walked as close as they dared, before Martha was able to confirm that yes it was her friends.

She ran at ‘em and one of ‘em collided with her, slamming her into a hug. There were two more, just kinda watching Dot and Shelby.

“We should go,” Dot said. “We did what we said.”

“Dottie,” Shelby said.

Dot sighed and the two of ‘em trudged up to the happy pair, reuniting like they had been separated for years, decades, instead of a few hours. It was a miracle they were reunited at all, Mateo said he’d meet her back at the camp in an hour and she had to bash his head in six months later with a sledge hammer.

“Who’re your friends, Martha?” One of the other people asked. It was four girls counting Martha, lucky, none of ‘em white, but they all looked around the same age as Dot and Shelby.

“This is Shelby,” Martha grinned, “And Dot.”

Dot nodded at them.

“I am just so pleased to make your acquaintance,” Shelby smiled, holding out her hand to the girl who still had an arm wrapped around Martha.

“This is Toni,” Martha said, squeezing the girl’s side when she didn’t take Shelby’s hand. “And Rachel and Nora.”

“Ah,” Shelby smiled, “Toni your sister right?”

Martha nodded, Toni glared. “Yeah it’s great to meet you or whatever. There a reason you kidnapped Martha?”

“I saw her passed out and worried she was alone,” Shelby explained. “I knew we had some tablets back at the camp but—”

“What do you want?” Rachel asked. “We got about six hundred if that’s—” Martha from Austin, Dot’s ass. Money hadn’t meant shit in Texas for awhile. These kids were from up north, probably pretty far up north too. Maine or some shit. Delaware.

“Got any cigs?” Dot asked.

“Yes,” Nora said. “We have a couple packs.”

“Great,” Dot held out her hands and two packs were dropped into them. Nora didn’t make eye contact the entire time, her hands fidgeting with anything. She was covered in scabs and scars, picking at her own skin probably.

“Where y’all headed?” Shelby asked.

“None of your business,” Toni said.

“Apparently the San Antonio Zone relocated to Tyler,” Martha said. “We heard some people talking about it last week.”

“Y’all got a radio?” Dot asked.

Martha shook her head.

“If you had one you’d know that that’s what they’re pulling now, telling people to go to Tyler, they shoot you as soon as you step foot in Athens.”

“So where are you guys headed?” Rachel demanded.

“West,” Shelby said. “Radio says they’re ferrying clean folks to Hawaii. It’s an island so.”

“Clean how?” Rachel asked, taking a step forward and lifting her jaw.

Dot sighed.

Shelby’s eyes widened, “Clean as in not infected, I mean.”

“Chill,” Rachel smiled, all thin, “I was kidding.”

“Great,” Dot said. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but we should be going.”

“Wait,” Martha said. “It’s just, we might as well go west too. And we might as well go west together.”

“Marty,” Toni grabbed her by her uninjured arm, “I wanna talk to you for a moment.”

They got into a whispered argument for a few minutes. Rachel joined and it escalated but Martha came out on top, smiling as she approached them.

“We might as well go together,” she repeated.

Shelby’s smile was just as wide, “We would be alighted to have you.”

The new girls were a nightmare. Rachel and Nora, sisters as Dot would learn, hated one another. And by hated Dot meant, had a complicated relationship of love without trust or mutual respect. Nora didn’t trust Rachel, Rachel didn’t respect Nora, and they were constantly going at one another. Toni had some sorta toxic jealousy thing going on, despising Shelby because she was monopolizing Martha. She also tended to fly into these rages, making her wander off for long periods that had Dot itching to grab her gun and demanding the girl strip to check for bites. Mateo’s dad used to do the same thing, wander off to check his bite.

Shelby also was wholly focused on two things now: Martha, and Toni’s hate. Dot ambled along behind all of ‘em, keeping the sisters from killing each other, Toni’s voice down, and everyone else alive.

The worst part was it took Dot nearly three days before she caught sight of it.

“You have one hand,” Dot glared at Rachel. Rachel slung the pack over her shoulder.

“You’re just noticing that now?” Rachel asked. “I must be getting better with it.”

“The fuck happened?” Dot said.

“My hand got bit,” Rachel shrugged. “Cut it off before it spread, didn’t even know it would work.”

Dot whistled, low and quiet, like they were all used to being.

“I cut it off,” Nora corrected, sullenly.

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“I’m still quicker on the draw than you,” Rachel said, the words clunky in her mouth.

Dot set her jaw, “So y’all are sticking with the story that you’re from Austin?”

“We’re from New York,” Nora said. Rachel glared at her. “What? You think some group would waste three days on four teenage girls?”

“New York?” Dot asked. “Everyone knows it’s safer up north, why the hell are you down here?”

“You hear about Yonkers?” Rachel asked.

Dot shook her head.

“It was the last op the US military set up before they fell apart. We’d made it out by then but we watched it happen on the news. Someone in a group we had still had a phone and the whole thing was live streamed. All of the death. The group were supposed to go to some military bases up in Canada but we wanted a wide open space with plenty of guns.”

“Texas,” Dot said.

Rachel nodded.

“Stupid,” Dot told her. “You probably came for San Antonio too.”

Rachel sighed, “Nobody was gonna survive those Canadian winters without a base, and we weren’t sure we were gonna get one. Rather get bit than freeze.”

“How’d you meet Toni and Martha?” Dot asked.

“Toni and I got into a fistfight over some Takis,” Rachel said.

Dot nodded, “Fuego?”

“Fuego.”

And yeah they were a nightmare but quicker than Dot wanted they became her nightmare. Still though, she dragged Shelby away from Martha and Toni’s sides, and muttered, “we can still go. Ditch if you want. Whenever. We don’t know ‘em.”

Shelby, in high school, woulda been scandalized, muttered some bible passage at her. This Shelby was a little more grown and only looked at her all serious.

“You knew what I was when you picked me up,” she said. “And I knew what Martha was. We’ll face our consequences, I reckon.”

Dot nodded.

Walking all day, everyday, wasn’t easy stuff. Especially since they had to strip as many bodies as they could find. Nora figured it out pretty quick, mumbling something to Rachel who recruited Toni to storm over to Dot.

“You don’t smoke them, but you’re hoarding them,” Rachel said. “Why?”

Dot kept her easy pace. “These things are currency now, the value’ll only go up over time.”

“Currency for what?” Toni asked. “What are you trying to buy?”

“You think a ferry to Hawaii is free?” Dot asked. “I’m saving for all of us.”

“Dottie,” Shelby walked over, Martha sticking by Nora, “What’s up?”

“How much?” Toni asked. “Really, how much?”

“A hundred each,” Dot said, too quickly.

“Try again,” Rachel said.

“Dot,” Shelby got between them, looking at Dot. “Thou shalt not lie, right? Tell ‘em the truth.” Dot glared at her and Shelby turned back around to Rachel. “It’s five hundred each. We got about a hundred now, so no one’s going to Hawaii.”

“What if there aren’t enough?” Toni asked. “Who decides then?”

“We’ll draw straws,” Shelby said.

It was as easy a solution as anything but the tenseness started building up, Rachel and Toni viewing Dot with more suspicion. It’d fade, over time, Dot knew. Or they’d all die.

The worst it got, was actually Shelby’s doing, the easy peace maker of it all. They hadn’t bothered building a fire, despite how cold and exposed it got in Texas at night, but they huddled together between three cars they found abandoned along the highway that they pushed into a triangle. Someone got to the seat cushions of all three first, so there was nothing comfortable to lie their heads on. It was easy for Dot though, the asphalt as soft as anything to her now.

They stayed up later than they should’ve talking. Trading stories about their old life that all of them knew weren’t doing any good. Toni played basketball, was pretty good at it too. Rachel had a skill for swimming she’d never have again. Nora did quiz bowl, surprising no one. Dot talked about metal, fishing with her dad, what types of pills sold for what. Martha was a dancer, and a vegetarian once. It was something that made ‘em all crack up. When humans become man eating beasts, and once upon a time there were jokes online about vegans. Shelby talked about the yearbook, mission trips, Andrew.

But then cause Shelby started it by prattling on about Andrew Toni got it in her head to talk about Regan and Shelby was talking about Leviticus.

The next morning, Rachel quietly pulled Dot aside and told her to take all the cigarettes and head out. That they could make their own way west. Dot didn’t ask for an invitation to go with her.

They split off at the twenty-five, Dot and Shelby heading for the forty, Toni, Martha, Rachel, and Nora heading for the sixty.

Shelby was heartbroken for a few days, apologetic too, and grateful. Dot didn’t let her have any of that, only said, “It’s cause we’re from the same town. We might be the only ones from there left.”

They trudged on.

In Arizona Dot found the love of her life, her soulmate, Fatin Jadmani. In a completely straight way too. Fatin matched her tit for tat, spoke a language Dot hadn’t realized she’d been born knowing. Her girlfriend was an anxious woman named Leah, who Shelby got on with. Dot had worried, upon bringing the two back to camp, that Shelby would chase ‘em away again, but she hadn’t. Just smiled at the two of them, easily offering up a couple granola bars.

Whenever tenseness came about Fatin just laughed, and Leah rolled her eyes. It wasn’t perfect, Dot knew, there was too much hate for that, but it would last ‘em long enough. The four of ‘em just worked in this great lovely way.

Only problem was their destination.

“We barely managed to get out of LA,” Leah mumbled, she hugged her legs, her head leaning on Fatin’s shoulder.

“LA?” Shelby asked. “That’s where we’re headed.”

“What the fuck?” Fatin glared at Dot, “Dorthy I thought you had more sense than that.”

“There’s some military guys ferrying people to Hawaii,” Dot said.

“Where’d you hear that, the radio?” Fatin asked. She sighed at their nods, “They’re broadcasting out to whoever will hear it, but there is no ferry to Hawaii. The entire thing is just selling and shipping as many girls out as possible. We have no idea where though.”

“So when you say you barely made it out,” Dot said.

Fatin’s face was grim.

“We have to warn ‘em,” Shelby said.

“Warn who?” Dot asked.

“Toni and the others! They don’t know!” Shelby stood up. “I’ll plot out the course now and we’ll start out fresh tomorrow. We aren’t leaving ‘em to—to—we aren’t leaving ‘em.” She stormed off and Dot watched her go.

“She wants to go towards LA to help some motherfuckers who kicked you out of their group?” Fatin asked.

“Yeah,” Dot said.

“Are you gonna go with her?” Leah asked.

“I knew what she was when I picked her up,” Dot said.

“What do you wanna do?” Leah asked Fatin.

Fatin pressed her cheek to Leah’s head, “I don’t know if I can risk you.” Fatin looked at Dot, “Are you gonna be stupid?”

“No,” Dot said.

“Then we’ll come,” Fatin sighed. “Leah that okay?” Leah nodded.

Neither of ‘em were as good at offing zed as Shelby and Dot. Fatin was decent at finding stuff though, scoping stuff, and Leah had endurance none of the rest of ‘em could match. She was like a zed sometimes, just kept going, could keep going, until her knees wore down to dust and then she’d crawl, crawl until her fingers wore down to nubs and then she’d inch, inch until something put her out of her misery. It terrified Fatin and Shelby, but Dot couldn’t help being impressed.

So Dot ambled after Shelby toward Bethlehem on the forty but they were gonna leap back on the interstate and hopefully head ‘em off. Hopefully Martha, Toni, Rachel, and Nora’d be alive, and they’d find ‘em. And if they didn’t find ‘em, hopefully they’d be dead. And Shelby stopped sleeping about a day or two into trek. Would just keep staring at the maps and keeping watch, and taking inventory and thumbing around her necklace.

When Dot woke up on the third day of their walk, Shelby’s hair was much shorter and Fatin looked real scared. Shelby kept walking and walking and, in a fit of rage that matched Toni’s, launched her necklace off the highway. She looked like she regretted it after but they had no choice but to keep going.

They passed an arm and it looked like Rachel’s.

Shelby walked faster. Leah had that glint in her eye. Fatin took Dot’s hand and looked very very scared.

After two more days Shelby said fuck it, and found a car with some gas in it and told 'em to get in.

Dot stood in front, “Shelby,” Shelby glared at her, “This’ll attract every body in the fucking country. The sound, the smell, I’m not just talking about the dead ones neither.”

Shelby swallowed hard, “You gonna stay behind then?”

“Shelby,” Dot said. “If you leave me here I’ll get caught up in the hoard. That what you want?”

“Get in the damn car, Dottie!” Shelby said.

“If we get to ‘em in time, but there’s a fucking hoard following us, we won’t have anywhere to go but on,” Dot said. “Fucking think!”

“I am thinking,” Shelby spat back. She shoved Dot, “I’m thinking about Toni, and Martha walking from Minnesota to Texas only to die in California. I’m thinking about Nora and Rachel watching Yonkers fall and then getting shipped off to who knows where. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Shelby we can make it,” Leah said.

“No we can’t!” Shelby said. “I’ve done the math, I keep looking at these maps, there’s no way we’ll make it in time without a mode of transportation. No car and they die.”

“Then what the fuck are we going there?” Dot asked. “If it’s too late—”

“It is not too late!” Shelby said, her throat was all closed and choked sounding. “I can save ‘em! Jesus fuckin Christ we have to help ‘em!”

“Shelby,” Dot said, she put a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t take a car, and we can’t make it by foot,” Shelby’s face crumpled. “They’re gone, alright? We should be planning our next move.”

“No,” Leah said. She shook her head, “We have to help them.”

“You don’t even know ‘em,” Dot said.

“I’m not letting four innocent girls go through what I nearly went through,” Leah said.

“I’m with Leah,” Fatin said. “We’ll take the car and play it by ear.”

“Play the-hoard-that-will-start-coming-after-us-the-second-we-turn-on-the-engine by ear?” Dot asked.

“Let’s vote,” Shelby said. “All in favor of going?”

Fatin, Leah, and Shelby all raised their hands.

“C’mon,” Dot begged. She looked at Fatin, “You told me not to be stupid!”

“So don’t be stupid,” Fatin said. “Get in the car.”

Dot sighed, wanted to punch something, wanted to cry, was too tired to do either, got in the car.

The car attracted so many fucking zed, they wouldn’t be able to stop, and they had to hope there was enough in the fucking tank to get them to wherever the four were. Dot watched the dead bodies creep closer, at their slow hobbling, relentless pace. Fatin drove, Shelby used her pike to spear any who got too close, Dot watched the maps and steadily got herself into a panic.

They were gonna die trying to save the asses of some girls they spent a couple days with.

This was not what Shelby was when Dot picked her up, this was not what she was. Shelby had gone behind Dot’s back and fucking grown as a person, hadn’t she? How the fuck was Dot gonna get away from her? She’d have to pack Fatin in a suitcase and then Leah too and that would mean entirely abandoning Shelby to be on her lonesome oh god.

Dot was stuck, wasn’t she.

As they kept driving Shelby had to keep spearing zed. It started off as one or two, but as the hours wore on they were leaning on five, six, a steady growing mass ambling behind ‘em.

If that had really been Rachel’s arm, they were probably dead. All of ‘em. Or maybe in the mass behind ‘em. And if they weren’t, they’d hear the car coming and head for the hills, assuming it meant a hoard was close behind. Which it was.

This was such a fucking terrible idea.

“So what, we just wait for a sign to say welcome to LA and then give up? We won’t find ‘em like this,” Dot said.

“Shut up!” Shelby said, she speared another.

“At least check you ain’t offing one of ours,” Dot said. “They could all be zed, for all we know.”

“I said shut up,” Shelby turned to glare at her and a zed slammed against the door. She speared it and Dot’s mouth clamped shut. “We just gotta keep going,” she said. “We’ll be fine, we just gotta keep moving.”

“You’re crazy,” Dot said.

Shelby didn’t have anything to say to that.

It was worse at nightfall, with visibility down, and they just had to keep going, to hope their car wasn’t stripped when they went over the bumps of mutilated corpses still hungry for a last meal.

“We’re almost to LA,” Shelby said. “We got nearly a hundred cigs, we might be able to bribe someone if they jump us.”

Leah snorted.

They were driving through an empty enough part of Nevada though, less corpses hurling themselves off the road and towards them. Still the ever growing mass behind ‘em now, maybe fifty, seventy five, but about twenty out.

“I gotta piss,” Dot said.

“Hurry,” Fatin said.

Dot stumbled out, no one noticing her grabbing her pack. The zed would follow the car, she’d make a clean break. She’d survive.

She was only seven minutes south, judging by the north star Shelby taught her to find when someone’s hand grabbed her. She pulled out her hand gun, jamming it into the head and flicking the safety off.

“Dot! Jesus Christ!”

The girl was wide-eyed, tan, hollowed out, empty and desperate. Reminded her of the empty pill bottles around her house after her dad died.

“Toni?”

Toni nodded, “Why are you here? Fuck that I don’t give a shit, you got water?” Dot handed it to her and Toni downed it. “The other’s are close, c’mon.” She stumbled as she got up, clearly dizzy, and Dot grabbed her forearm.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” Dot said.

“Don’t tell me it’s you in the fucking car,” Toni said. “We’ve been running from that thing for ages.”

“I fucking told Shelby,” Dot said.

“Shelby?” Toni asked, she was almost too exhausted to sound disgusted, but she managed it.

“Listen, LA isn’t safe, we found out. They’re not taking kids to Hawaii, they’re taking them.”

Toni went pale, “Fuck.” She even sounded choked now. “Shelby’s having a fucking aneurysm worrying about you so I don’t even think she’s that fucking homophobic. I’ll get everyone back to the car, you tell ‘em I’m coming.”

Toni nodded, stumbling towards the street and Dot walked back to the direction Toni pointed to before she left. Rachel, Nora, and Martha were all in various points of disarray. Exhausted, dehydrated, starving, aching and bleeding. Dot had to half carry, half drag Nora with Martha and Rachel had to get a stick to lean on as they stumbled toward the street.

“We got like ten minutes,” Fatin said. “People are gonna have to double buckle, and before anyone else makes a decision, we’re going north.”

Dot strapped everyone in and found herself sitting next to Shelby who met her eyes in a hundred yard stare.

“You took your pack.”

“Yeah.”

“But you came back.”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

They started on again. Dot saw Toni keep sneaking glances at Shelby and Shelby kept sneaking ‘em back.

They weren’t far from Mt. Tobin when the two finally stopped dancing around each other.

Dot convinced everyone to ditch the car near LA, walking as quickly as they could once they did, knowing it’d take awhile to ditch the hoard too. Dot watched Toni talk to Shelby in low tones, Shelby full of apologies and panics and Toni keeping her cool longer than Dot had ever seen it.

Martha took to Fatin quickly, everyone did, and Nora and Leah spent long hours walking beside each other mumbling about books or something. Not anything Dot gave two shits about.

Rachel ambled along with Dot most of the time. Whenever Fatin and Leah were all over each other and Dot didn’t feel like third wheeling. Rachel was always listening to the radio and as time passed it became clear that the two of them were the most capable of keeping everyone alive. And not in a more knowledgable way. Because Nora knew what plants were edible, and Shelby was a better shot. Or in an emotional way, because Fatin and Martha handled that. But in a planning sorta way. Because Dot knew how to get them to point B, while Rachel was working on point E.

“We should go to Washington,” Rachel muttered on one of the late nights they spent keeping watch while they poured over maps. “We might be able to find a boat to Victoria.”

“Victoria?” Rachel pointed her out.

“It’s a Canadian island. Canada lasted a little longer than we did, Victoria might not be in such a bad way.”

“Less guns in Canada,” Dot said. “And there might not be a boat that’ll take us there. Plus, we don’t know the currency.”

“We’re eight teenage girls,” Rachel pointed out. “We stick around so close to Cali, we’re asking for trouble. We need to put an ocean between us and whatever the fuck they’re doing there.”

Dot sighed. So they’d go to Washington.

On the way they’d probably run into another group who’d tell them Washington was overrun but there was something decent in Wisconsin. Half way to Wisconsin someone would tell ‘em their information was bad and they need to get south where there were guns and space. They’d almost be in Georgia when someone would tell ‘em there was some real government up in New York again.

They’d follow pipe dream to pipe dream to pipe dream. They’d probably die young.

Toni curled around Shelby, holding Martha’s hand. Fatin and Leah held on for dear life. Rachel didn’t take her eyes off Nora. Dot watched them all.

Yeah they’d probably die young. Better than dying alone.

[burning-omen]

Break the Rules part 2

Peter Parker x Male!Mob boss!reader

Summary: The next morning with reader, Peter, a unexpected (and unwanted) guest, and an even less welcome anxiety attack....fun, right?

Warning: a little bit of anxiety and a small anxiety attack. OH AND GUNS! I ALMOST FORGOT! Murder threats and mentions too!

Part 1

Word count: 2879

A/n: Writers block is kicking my a*s so part 3 might take longer. Also, there’s a scene that I f*cking hate so much, like reading makes me want to cringe so hard, there’s nothing wrong with it, I just wish I went somewhere else with this chapter.

Oh, Peter also forgets his pants at some point, just a little heads up.

Last time: You settled down in your own bedroom, hanging your coat and tie up by the door before drifting off to sleep.

Now:

The next morning you woke up, only to hear Peter loudly exclaim “what the hell!” From the other room.

You groaned then sat up, still hearing Peter panicking in the other room. You made your way to him, only to see him sitting on the bed with the most panicked expression you’ve ever seen on a human person.

“Peter...relax yourself..”

His eyes snapped over to you. “Where am I?!”

“Fucking Christ…” you groaned. You’d woken up with a headache that felt far too similar to a hangover for you liking. “...you’re in my house. Yours was swarming with police and I wouldn’t want them to see me or you. Understand?”

He nodded slowly.

“Good, so you're done yelling then?”

He flushed red then nodded with a small chuckle.

“Sorry…”

Groaning again, you said, “it’s fine, just come down stairs when you're ready, okay?”

“O-okay..”

“Great..” with that you walked out of the room.

You honestly had no idea why you were being so nice to Peter. You’ve never shown this kind of hospitality to anyone before. So all of this was very new to you.

Maybe this had something to do with the sudden thought you had last night.

You walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. The entire bottom floor had been completely illuminated by sunlight making cooking yourself and your guest a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and sausage a lot easier. You were a little surprised that there was food in the house. Then you remembered that you’d been paying your neighbors to bring in groceries every few weeks.

You heard light thumping from upstairs then saw Peter emerge from the stairway...with no pants. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the sight...he knows he’s not wearing pants, right?

From the looks of it the answer was no, he came and sat on one of the stools on the outside of the counter then folded his arms and laid on them.

“Sorry for taking so long…” he said through a yawn.

You cleared your throat a little then said, “it’s fine.” With a small voice crack. “It seems you’ve made yourself at home..”

He laughed softly and said, “I hope you don’t mind. Your house is just very relaxing to me.”

“I don’t mind at all..”

The house was silent other than the sounds of you preparing both yours and Peter’s plate. He looked up at you suspiciously.

“What is it?”

“Just...why are you being so nice to me? Like I understand that you want me to work for you but it seems like it’s…”

“It seems like what, Peter?”

He picked up the fork on the counter and twirled it in his hand.

“I don’t know… To me it looks like you want me to do more than just work for you…” he said, getting quieter and quieter, sinking down farther into his seat as he went on.

Well fuck. You see, you’re not the best with emotional confrontation. Or emotional anything for that matter. You could easily put on a simple “I’m Just A Suave Kind Of Person” act but that just makes you look like a fool because this has gone far beyond just being charming.

“Well...” you cleared your throat, trying to find the right words for the moments. “You see, I’ve just bee-“

You were cut off by the very loud sound of your front door being practically thrown off its hinges by no other than Markus Cane, aka one of the lower level(but not bottom tear) players from your more “private” games. He was very clearly enraged. More than likely about his recent losing streak, an unfortunate occurrence that's bringing him closer to being kicked out of the game permanently. Now he's broken into your house while you have an important guest over, which has just brought him a lot closer to death.

But, instead of letting the growing rage inside you show you spoke to the man in the calmest of tones.

“Markus Cane? What brings y-”

You were, once again, interrupted by him.

“You mother fucker!” He shouted, “You’re the reason my life has gone to shit You and your little games!”

You rolled your eyes at the disheveled man, “Is this about you losing the last few games? Because I can assure you that your...inability to play a proper game has nothing to do with me. I only run fair games, it’s your own fault that you lost.”

“Bullshit!” He pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his pants and aimed it straight at you...Sort of.

It was obvious he hadn’t slept in days, he had dark circles under his red bloodshot eyes. His hands shook and his body swayed as a clear sleep deprivation. He was delirious.

“You’re always pulling the strings in those games! Always behind the scenes telling the croupiers what to do! You set me up!”

“Trust me, I had no interest in your downfall..”

He looked at you with confusion, “‘Had’?”

“Yes Markus, had. I don’t know if you noticed but you’ve broken into my house, throw ridiculous accusations at me and now you're threatening my life, all of this done in front of my current guest of honor. At the moment I want you dead.” You said, your tone never changing.

Markus stumbled backward, the weight of what he’d done crashing down on him. He backed himself into a wall, his hands shaking so hard that he dropped the gun. It seemed as though the safety was still on so it collided with the ground without going off.

Peter, who you hadn’t been too focused on at the moment, rushed to grab it before settling back onto the stool, setting it on the table. All done while keeping his eyes on the man, who was now overcome with the realization that he was more than definitely dead.

“L-listen man, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke!” He stuttered.

You walked from around the counter, placing your hand on Peter's shoulder for a moment before moving forward towards the man.

He was frozen, mouth agape watching you.

“Now, I would normally kill a fool like you who decided to interrupt my peaceful morning, but I have a guest and that would be rude. And the clean up would take hours, hours that I don’t want to waste on idiots like you. So i’ll give you ten seconds to get as far away from here as possible..” Your voice shifted, turning to a lower, more threatening tone.

Markus stared at you for a long moment not moving until you said, “You have 5 seconds Markus..”

He was out of your house immediately, slamming the door behind him.

You turned back to Peter, who was staring at the door Markus had run through moments before.

“Peter?” You said, your tone changing from the anger laced one you used earlier to a much softer, calmer voice.

He turned to look at you, his eyes wide and bright as though you hadn’t just threatened to murder someone.

“Yes?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter next to him.

“I think it’s time for us to go.”

He nodded, hopping up from the stool.

“Okay, I’ll go grab my shoes from upstairs.”

“Mhmm, make sure you grab your pants while you're up there..”

He looked at you with confusion clear on his face, “What?”

Without looking back at him (less in a respectful way and more in a ‘I don’t want to start staring’ way) you gesture downward.

He looked down, then blush quickly took over his face.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” He shouted before running up the stairs quickly.

You went up a little after he did, heading to your own room. Quickly getting yourself ready for the day ahead of you, grabbing your tie and putting on your shoes as you exited the room.

By the time you were done and heading back down the stairs Peter was already there (with pants this time) staring down at his lap, blush still covering his face.

“Are you ready to leave?”

He nodded, more than likely too embarrassed to speak at the moment.

“Alright, lets go.” You walked over to the door with Peter right behind you, grabbing the keys from the small table next to it.

The both of you walked out, the sun was beaming down but a cool breeze evened out the temperature.

You unlocked the car doors, watching Peter slide into the passenger side quickly. You got into the driver's seat and started the car. You drove in silence for 20 minutes, every so often Peter would look over at you like he wanted to say something but would always go back to fumbling with his hands in his lap.

You decided to interrupt his anxious cycle, besides you were almost at your place of business and you wouldn’t be able to talk to him until after he was done with whatever work he has to do today or if he was suddenly brave enough to walk all the way up to your office on his own, which you doubted he would.

“Is there something you want to say, Peter?”

He stumbled and tripped over his words nervously, creating an illegible sequence of sounds.

“I can’t understand you, Peter, you need to relax..”

He stopped, taking a long breath before speaking again.

“If I wasn’t there, would you have killed that man?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t want to talk about it but he felt like he had to know. Did he really change your decision that much? So much that you went from Yes Murder to No Murder in a matter of seconds.

“Probably. I don’t usually take any kind of disrespect from anyone, ever… But, you were there and I didn’t want to subject you to that, especially this early in the morning.”

There was a long silence after that.

Peter didn’t know how to respond and you had nothing more to say on the subject.

As you drew closer and closer to the large building both of you worked at Peter felt as though he should say something, you offered him a job, taken care of him while he slept and cooked him breakfast so he figured some sort of thanks was necessary. (You also didn’t murder a guy because of him but what ever.) By the time he figured out what he wanted to say to you, you’d already arrived at your destination but that didn’t stop him.

“I-I…” He started, but all the things he planned to say died on his tongue when you looked over at him.

His internal monologue turned to one word in that moment. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He gulped, feeling a knot coil in his chest and in a very sudden moment his mind was on fire. Not a single coherent thought ran through his head and he felt his throat close up. So he did what he always did in moments of anxiety, he left. He opened the car door and ran into the building, not really realizing that you had to go in there too. But at that moment it didn’t matter, he had to get away. He had to get away from you, being in that car with you was throwing him into a weird anxious panic. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know why. But once he was away from you it got better.

You were less confused than Peter was, you’d watched him long enough to know that speaking was a problem for him. Especially in situations where he felt he needed to speak but he still felt rude and interruptive if he did. But then he was flooded with the many thoughts of how it could go wrong or how the other person, the other person being you this time, would feel, which would panic him and cause him to leave as fast as possible.

You understood, he was having a hard time speaking, he panicked, he left.

It was a bit rude of him to leave your door open but you could excuse it just this once.

You got out of your car, locking the doors then pocketing the keys. Slamming your door shut before walking around to the other side and closing the door that Peter had left open.

As you walked inside and up the stairs you could feel multiple eyes watching you. Before you disappeared up the stairs completely you looked down at the many low level idiots below, and then you spotted Peter. His cheeks were a dark pink and his eyes were teary, he stared down at his feet, tapping the left with the right every few seconds. He looked so upset, not quite sad or angry just…upset.

Seeing him like that hurt. It hurt a lot.

You made him feel that way, not intentionally, no. You would never, Still, he was feeling that way because of you.

You wanted to help him, to comfort him and tell him that everything was okay but you know that you had piles of work you couldn’t get behind on. They were important and then needed to be done. That had to be done, it wasn’t opsional.

And then you remembered something that made you want to grin like a cat.

This is your business. This was your building. These were your workers.

You were in control of everything that happened here, you chose what was important.

And what was important to you right now was that boy downstairs that was looking like a kicked puppy.

So you walked back down the stairs, cut through the large group of associates that flooded the lowest floor and got to Peter.

You gently grabbed his hand, holding it close to your chest and rubbing his palm slowly with your thumb. He didn’t meet your eyes only staring at your hand clasping his.

“Peter?”

He didn’t respond but you could tell he was listening.

“Would you like to go home?” You asked in a low voice.

He quickly shook his head no.

“Okay, okay...where do you want to go? I’m not letting you stay down here, not with how you are right now.?”

He looked up at you for a moment before slowly pointing to the ceiling with his free hand. It took you a moment to figure out what he meant.

“My office?”

He nodded and squeezed your hand tightly.

“Alright, lets go..”

In seconds you were pulling the shaking boy behind you up multiple flights of stairs. In the time it took you to get to your office you’d become winded, while Peter on the other hand looked almost completely fine. His chest rising and falling a bit faster than normal but other than that there was no indication that you’d dragged him up a shit ton of stairs.

Once you caught your breath you gently guided Peter to the chair he’d sat in the previous night. You leaned back against the front of your desk, your hands on either side of you, keeping you balanced.

“So… Are you feeling any better?”

He didn’t respond for a long while, and for a moment you thought he wasn’t going to.

“A little...I-” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to regain control of his thoughts, “I thought getting out of the car would help but just...being in there with all those people, I-it only made it worse. For a second I felt like I couldn’t breath, it was sudden an-and unexpected.”

You opened your mouth to say something but stopped yourself.

“Honestly I don’t understand why I was suddenly so nerve wrecked back in the car. I’d been fine the entire ride but at the end I just...wasn’t.” He looked up at you quickly. “I’m not always like this, I swear! I just…”

“You’re having a rough morning, I get it. It happens.”

“I-I know, I guess I should have at least tried to handle it a bit more professionally,” he muttered.

You laughed a little, pushing yourself off of the desk and leaning closer to Peter.

“I’ve seen you in your underpants, it doesn’t get more unprofessional than that..”

His face immediately flushed red, stammering he refused to meet your eyes, “Sorry about that…”

“Don’t worry about it, you were tired, it’s an easy mistake to make..”

“Yeah, at home. Not at the house of a man you don’t even know the name of.”

This made you freeze, had you really not told him your name?

You felt you face heat up, visible or not you brought your hand up to your face, shielding yourself from your own embarrassment.

“O-oh crap..” you muttered to yourself.

You cleared your throat, straightening yourself out in a moment.

“You’ll have to forgive me Peter, I hadn’t realized that I never told you..”

He looked up at you with a soft smile and said, “I-It’s fine, honestly. It was a simple mistake.”

“Well then, let me fix my mistake. I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you..”

[wickedsingularity]

Can’t Sleep Without You [One-shot]

Fandom: Star Trek Pairings/characters: Jim Kirk x reader (but not really), Leonard McCoy, mention of Spock Words: 2359 Warnings: Use of medication, use of possible addictive medication, insomnia, nightmares, almost graphic description of a disturbing dream

Note: A somewhat self-indulgent story that I posted a little while ago, but had panic about after a few hours and then deleted. It felt too personal, too self-indulgent, amongst other things. I planned on giving it some time, and then rewrite it so it was less personal. I did give it time, but I haven't rewritten it, just edited. And now I'm giving it another go, hoping that I don't panic this time around and telling myself so fucking what if it's self-indulgent. And hopefully people enjoy it because I do like this story.

Summary: Having suffered from insomnia for a long time, Jim is the only thing that manages to calm me enough to function when it gets bad. But Jim is off on a mission...

"You look like something the cat dragged in, Commander."

"Thanks a lot, Doctor." I glared up at Leonard McCoy as he towered over me. Even if I couldn't stand the stuff, I was now on my third cup of coffee of the day. But I was also on my fourth day of barely any sleep, and I was desperate for something to keep me alert.

"Have you had trouble sleeping again?"

I downed the last of the coffee, cringing as the bitter liquid made its way down and sat the cup down on my empty lunch tray. I closed my eyes for a moment and grit my teeth, trying not to snap at the obvious question. "Looks that way."

The doctor sat down at the other side of the table and looked at me with worry, not even phased by my annoyance. "I've seen you getting worse the last few days, Commander. Why haven't you come to see me?"

"What you gave me three days ago made me wake up after four hours with a nightmare from hell. I'm still seeing ghosts in broad daylight."

He pursed his lips. "Please stop by the medbay at 2200 hours. We'll try something else."

I sighed, knowing that there was only one thing that would help, and it was not something our Chief Medical Officer could provide no matter how good he was. But I nodded. "Yes, doc." Then I pulled myself to my feet, grabbed the tray and went to put it back in the replicator for recycling.

For as long as I could remember, I'd had some form of insomnia. It hadn't been a problem when I was younger, I had been more energetic, more durable, not to mention more careless. But as I got older it got worse. Most of the time I managed to keep it under control, but sometimes it took on a life of its own. And when it did that, there was no medication, meditation or treatment that worked better than the captain of the ship, my boyfriend.

There was just something about Jim that calmed my mind like nothing else.

Funnily enough, insomnia was what brought us together. I had been wandering around the ship one night, after several nights of little sleep. Finding myself in the briefing room, I had sat down in the chair reserved for the captain, put my feet up on the table and gazed out at the streaking stars. After a few minutes of silence, the door had slid open and Captain Kirk had walked in. We were already on friendly terms, so I hadn't bothered taking my feet off the table or giving him the chair, even when he made a joke about it being his.

He'd been having trouble sleeping too, claiming his mind was running at warp 5 after an exhausting meeting in that very briefing room earlier in the day. He'd chosen to go back there in the hopes that it would clear his head.

We sat next to each other, him in the First Officer's chair and I kept occupying his, and chatted for a while. All the while we both seemed to gravitate more and more towards each other and I got sleepier at the same time, until I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder. He had gathered me up in his arms and ordered a site to site transport, dropped me off on my bed and pulled a blanket over me, before going back to his quarters, falling asleep as well. After that, our friendship had shifted and things escalated quickly from there.

Now though, he and Spock and several admirals were trying to work out a peace treaty between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. We had dropped them off on a colony near the Neutral Zone and had then gone off to survey a newborn nebula a couple of systems over. We weren't scheduled to go back for them for another two or three days, the trip itself took a whole day. And my body was kind enough to refuse to sleep properly without Jim now, no matter how much in control of the insomnia I was.

I made it through the day somehow, with at least two more disgusting cups of coffee. Thankfully, there was more than enough to do in Engineering that I decided to not leave once my shift was over, it was better to keep working than sitting in my quarters and feeling like I had been in the middle of a warp core breach. As soon as Jim and Spock came back, Starfleet wanted us to check out an uninhabited planet that a passing cargo ship had detected held large deposits of deuterium and our long-range sensors had detected too much atmospheric disturbance for transporting, so we had to adjust the shielding on several shuttlepods. I was barely conscious when I stumbled into the medbay at 2200 hours.

"Not looking any better, I see." Bones appeared out of nowhere and would have scared the daylights out of me if I hadn't been so sluggish.

"Your bedside manners are always so lovely."

He ushered me over to a biobed and pulled a tricorder from one of his pockets.

"There's no need to scan me. We both know what's wrong. Just give me what you think I need and I'll be off." I looked at the tricorder with annoyance.

He didn't answer but started scanning me anyway, so I sat there patiently, closing my tired eyes and listening to the whirring of the device. "It's a wonder they haven't found a cure for this yet, after 200 years of research," he muttered to himself.

I looked up at him and saw him analysing the results. "You've found a cure for some pretty serious viruses on your career, why don't you find the cure for this?" I argued.

"This isn't a virus, sweetheart."

"Still, I'm sure you're brilliant enough to find a solution." Bones always said that flattery would get you nowhere with him, but I found that more often than not, he enjoyed having his ego stroked. He was that good too.

He just huffed and went over to a cabinet. I saw him pull out a vial and fill up a hypospray. "I know you have tried this before and it didn't work so well. But that was a few years ago, it might work better for you now." I nodded and obediently bared my neck to him. One touch of the cold metal to my skin and it was done. "I want you to go straight to bed now. It should work quickly and you have to be in bed when it does."

"Yes, sir."

It did not work. Or, I did sleep through the night, but the dreams had me waking up more exhausted than if I hadn't slept at all. It had been worse than last time, the irrational, weird and disgusting dreams had just come at me, one after the other. I would honestly prefer good old-fashioned nightmares over this. I called Bones as soon as I had showered away the night and he was at my door by the time I had dressed.

"Sit down," he barked, the tricorder out and a deep furrow between his brows. "What happened?"

I told him all about the night, even gave him some snippets of the nasty dreams for emphasis, each one of them still crystal clear and disturbing in my mind. The way he cringed at some of it, told me just how disturbing they had been. It wasn't normal to dream that you're pooping out severed arms, after all. *

"This is very strange," he said after he was done scanning. "Barely any light or deep sleep at all. Dream sleep almost all night. I've heard about a few phenomena that cause a person to not have any dream sleep at all, but not nothing but dream sleep. You're not getting any more of this medication, and I'm making a note in your medical file."

I sighed, trying to think about what I could do to help myself that night. But Bones had suddenly gone very quiet. I looked up at him and there was a deep furrow between his brows, his eyes gazing down at the tricorder, but it looked like he was mentally lightyears away. "What's wrong, doc?"

He didn't react right away, but then he blinked and looked down at me. "There is something we can try, but it can be highly addictive if the dosage is off by even a fraction. Call Scotty and tell him you'll be a bit late. I need to take some blood for analysing."

All through that day, I felt a bit apprehensive about what Bones was planning on giving me later. And I missed Jim so much it ached. This was the worst it had been without him and it was also the longest we had gone without each other since we got together. I missed him because of his absence, of course. But in my sleep-deprived state, it felt a million times worse. It felt like there was a gaping, bleeding hole inside me where he should be. I needed him to calm my mind, to kiss me and tell me it's okay if I can't sleep, that I'll sleep when I'm ready and he would be there with me all the while. I needed him to breathe with me. I needed to feel him. He was able to relax me enough that I could function.

After working well past my shift again and forcing down too many cups of coffee, I forced back tears of exhaustion and desperation and went to the medbay, got the mysterious hypospray and went straight to bed.

Apart from the fact that I woke up every ten to fifteen minutes, this one worked a lot better. In the morning, I felt less like I had been hit with a meteor shower and more like I had just tumbled through a thick atmosphere without a spacesuit. Bones came to check up on me in engineering after lunch and I asked if I could get a higher dosage, hoping that maybe that would finally be what helped me sleep through the night. But he refused, he had given me as much as my body could handle without becoming addicted or suffering other nasty side effects. In defeat, I told him if I couldn't have a higher dosage, I didn't want it at all. Then I started counting the hours until Jim came home, and drank all the coffee I could stomach so I wouldn't feel like a zombie.

I was just starting to doze off. It was probably just an hour or so until my alarm, but I let sleep take me. I would take anything I could get. What felt like just a minute later though, the computer spoke to me.

"The time is 0630 hours. The time is 0630 hours."

"No no no," I moaned in annoyance, screwing my eyes shut to the illumination in the room becoming stronger. But then a pair of lips landed on my cheek.

"Forgot to turn that off," someone said.

I didn't process this right away, but in the back of my head I knew that voice and knew it was important, so I forced myself to open my eyes to the way too bright room. Jim was there next to me and judging by his one barely open eye, he had just woken up too. "Hi..."

My heart was beating wildly in my chest, the room seemed to be spinning a little, my vision getting blurry, but then he smiled with his eyes closed and started to clumsily kiss my cheek and jaw and everything cleared up.

"When did you come home?" I whispered.

Jim didn't answer but kept trying to kiss me, but he was struggling, he too seemed exhausted, not able to aim. "A while. Laid down minutes ago. Tired. Want lips."

I made a happy sound and rolled around to face him. He opened his eyes a fraction, revealing the brilliant blue I loved so much. His lips landed on my nose, then my cheek before finally finding my lips. The gaping aching hole inside me seemed to vanish. I moved closer, pressing my lips and my body to his and everything inside me seemed to settle down, mind was quiet, all tension washed away. When I needed air, I pulled back just enough so I could stare into his eyes and see every little shade of blue in them. "You're home."

"The time is 0635 hours. The time is 0635 hours."

"Home and tired." His breath washed over me when he spoke and I wanted to breathe nothing but him for the rest of my life.

"Ditto. Haven't slept since you left."

"I know, Bones told me. I'm so sorry, Supernova."

"'s okay. Just missed you." My voice broke, and all the frustrations from the past week made a few tears fall. Jim snuck one of his arms around my waist and I moved even closer, burying my face into his neck, breathing in the smell of stars and nebulas and galaxies. "How were the peace talks?" I asked between lazy kisses to the soft skin on the side of his neck.

Jim didn't reply right away. Instead, he kissed my hair, breathing it in for a moment. "Exhausting. I'll tell you all about it later."

"The time is 0640 hours. The time is 0640 hours."

"Have to get up," I mumbled against his skin, but my entire body felt like lead in Jim's arms.

"Computer, turn off the alarm." A gentle beep confirmed it was now turned off. Then Jim pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. "Bones told me to tell you that he has declared you not fit for duty today and that he has ordered bed rest, and if you disobey his orders, he will not hesitate to have you strapped to a biobed with a force field."

I blinked. "But..."

"And your Captain concurs. He recommends you spend the day with him in bed and sleep." He was grinning at me. "He's been flying fancy admirals in a shuttle all night and is in need of some tender loving care from the love of his life."

I knew there were things I had to do in Engineering. It would take time and almost all the Engineering staff to get the shuttlepods ready in time for exploring the deuterium planet. But as I looked into Jim's eyes, I felt exhaustion all the way to my bone marrow, and there was no point arguing with that, or the Captain and the Chief Medical Officer. I teared up with relief and buried my face in Jim's neck again.

Jim settled down on his back and pulled me halfway on top of him. I swallowed down my emotions and rested my head on his shoulder, tangled my legs with his, and laid my arm across his stomach. Peace filled me and I barely had time to mumble love you before I was fast asleep.

Note: * Yes, I have actually dreamed that as a side effect of taking melatonin.

[lupin72]

What could have been

Anon asked for a fic where ‘Lucy figured out that she was about to be drugged and arrests Caleb and comes to work traumatised that she would have been kidnapped or something and Tim noticed that’. I changed the details a bit but I hope you like it!

Lucy sat in her favorite bar, with an attractive man in front of her, conversation flowing well as they waited to be served. And yet she couldn’t relax. It had been a while since she had found herself on a date. Lucy told herself that was why she had a feeling of unease when she regarded the man before her. Caleb was nice, friendly and he seemed to like her. A lot, if him showing up at the precinct was anything to go by. She had no reason for fear or tension, no reason to doubt his intentions at all. And yet she couldn’t get the voice in the back of her mind to shut up.

Even before she was an officer, Lucy had always been careful on nights out. Her parents had experience with enough patients to feel that it was important to drill into Lucy that she should never leave a drink unattended, never drink anything unless she had seen the bar staff pour it and to always let someone know where she was going. They were rules she had followed throughout her life. She didn’t know how many times such choices could have saved her life.

But this was different, Lucy reminded herself. She was on a date. They were supposed to be alone. But she hadn’t told Jackson where she was going.

The thought struck a pang of panic inside her and Lucy reached for her phone. As she did so, she heard Caleb order his drink and ask her what she wanted. Lucy looked up and tried to mask her uncertainty with a smile and ordered a glass of the house red. She wasn’t fussy after a day like she had had.

That was what it was, she told herself. Leftover unease from being around a serial killer all day. There was nothing wrong with Caleb. Lucy noticed the man in question was frowning at her and realized how silly she must have looked urgently trying to dig her phone out of her pocket.

“I’m not doing that bad am I?” Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was. “Trying to call for help already?”

Lucy laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt, “Not at all. I just realised I never told my flat mate where I was going.”

“Oh,” Caleb paused, “it’s alright, I’m a gentleman, I’ll have you home by ten, promise.”

Lucy frowned. Her hands froze. Was that a red flag?

She shook herself, cursing her overactive mind and placed her hands back on the bar. She was a full grown woman, she didn’t need anyone’s permission and, despite the fact Caleb was obviously joking, she didn’t like the insinuation that she was acting like a child who was out after curfew.

Thankfully, their drinks arrived and prevented any award silence.

But then the world seemed to slow down. Caleb reached out to pay for their drinks and then smoothly grabbed both their glasses, pushing Lucy’s towards her and dragging his towards himself. It had looked causal, and it was all over in a second, but the movement of his hand had caught Lucy’s eye. There had been no need for him to touch her glass, no need for him to slide it toward her when it was already in comfortable reaching distance. And, had she imagined it, or had he spent a bit too long searching for his wallet? Long enough perhaps to lift something else along with it?

The voice, the feeling of unease, was suddenly too much and Lucy felt herself standing.

Caleb looked shocked.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy apologized, grabbing her jacket and moving away. “I’m not feeling too great tonight. I’ve had a bit of a terrible shift and I should have cancelled sooner. This wasn’t fair on you. You seem like a really nice guy, but I don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry-”

She turned to leave when she felt Caleb grab her arm. Tight.

“Wait.” His smile no longer reached his eyes and Lucy detected a hint of anger in his gaze. “Can’t we just have this one drink? I know I’m not the most attractive guy and I think I might have come across a bit strong when I showed up at your work, but I do really like you Lucy.”

Lucy paused, regarding his demeanor. There was something about the desperation in his tone that she didn’t like. Her gaze flicked back to their glasses on the bar behind them.

The date was over anyway. There was nothing more to lose. Lucy squared her shoulders and said, “If I asked you to down my drink would you do it?”

Caleb looked taken aback. “What?”

“If I asked you to drink it, would you do it?”

The anger on his face grew to the point he looked enraged.

“I thought so.” Lucy broke free of his grip and turned for the door.

Thankfully, a group of girls stumbled into the bar just as Lucy reached the entrance. One stopped and pulled the door back open for her, smiling as Lucy passed through. With a sigh of relief Lucy noticed that their uber driver was still waiting by the door and, upon the driver’s request, jumped in their car.

 Lucy never got much sleep. She had tossed and turned for hours thinking about what could have happened. She knew in her heart that Caleb had been attempting to spike her. Should she have told the barman? Hell, should she have arrested him? No, she once again reminded herself. Her evidence was based on a hunch, on suspicion and nothing more. Still, pushing herself from the bed, she decided she would call her mother later to thank her for her annoying persistence in reminding her to be safe growing up. For now, she had to get to work.

Lucy bumped into Tim just as she was entering the bullpen. “Told you to unwind last night Chen, not stay up the whole night, you look like you haven’t slept at all.”

It was disguised as a reprimand, but Lucy could tell that it came from a place of concern. “Had a rough night,” she replied. “I’ll tell you about it in the shop if you promise not to boast.”

Lucy knew that promise wouldn’t be kept. Tim had sensed something was wrong with Caleb. He had made all those jibes about the photos and tried to steal Caleb’s number from Lucy’s hand. But even if she did have to listen to him boast, part of her also wanted some reassurance that she had done the right thing. Caleb, after all, might have been innocent. It could all have been in her head.

They were in the shop for two minutes before Tim spoke, “So, Boot what did you want to tell me? I’m ready to gloat.”

Lucy explained what had happened on the date, her words tumbling into each other at such a speed that she wasn’t sure Tim would know what she was saying at all. Thankfully, he seemed to follow well enough and he didn’t interrupt.

“I knew there was something wrong with that guy,” Tim said when she was finished. Lucy rolled her eyes at that predictably being his first take away.

“Are you alright?”

The look of concern on his face took Lucy by surprise.

“Yes sir,” she answered.

“You did the right thing. Even if he was innocent it’s better to be safe than sorry. And with this new serial killer on the lose too, you can never be too sure.”

Lucy hadn’t thought about it that way. What were the odds that the new killer would target her? She knew that the number of men that turned to date rape drugs was scarcely high enough in the city of LA that it was extremely unlikely to be related at all.

Still, the thought was enough to send her head spinning.

“Don’t go there Chen,” Tim interrupted her spiral, bringing her back to the present. “You were switched on enough to notice what he was playing at. Not many would have. It shows you have good instincts.”

Just as Lucy was about to point out that Tim had just given her a compliment, he froze.

“Fire!”

Lucy jumped, her hand automatically going to her weapon, whilst she scanned the horizon.

“That house is on fire, what do we do Officer Chen?”

Lucy quickly looked to the house Tim had gestured to and found no sign of smoke or flames. She realized immediately what he was doing, and her heart swelled in response, even if it had just stopped beating seconds before.

Lucy rattled off the protocol as Tim drove on, her nightmare of a night long forgotten.

 An hour later a call came in from Grey directly. A rare occurrence so that they both knew immediately that something was seriously wrong. Tim drove them to the address in a tense silence.

They joined a swarm of vehicles pulling up outside an abandoned farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. In sync, they climbed out of the car and turned to where Grey stood at the porch, towering over the crowd of officers.

“Rosalind’s partner has struck again,” Grey announced. “A video was sent to the precinct half an hour ago of a woman in a barrel, we presume she is underground. Detectives were able to track the signal here. From the footage we believe this to be a recovery. I want you all to spread out, we’ve got dogs and metal detectors on hand. Let’s bring this girl home to her family and with any luck we will find something to put the bastard who did this behind bars.”

With sharp orders from the detectives, they broke out into their routine search formation: a line forming a grid that seemed far too small to cover the vast desert plane surrounding them. Lucy’s stomach churned as she walked in line next to Tim, a sniffer dog team to her other side. What sort of end the woman must have met? Alone, underground, in a barrel in this heat? It didn’t bare thinking about.

After almost an hour of nothing, the dog to Lucy’s right gave a loud bark and began clawing at the ground. The handler gave a shout and within minutes a flurry of officers began to dig. Dirt flew carelessly around them as they shoveled it clear. The only sound panting and the scraping of the sand. And then they hit metal.

The barrel exposed; they removed the lid. The sight that met them made more than one officer gasp, including Lucy.

They had found her.

Tim pulled the young woman up and laid her body out.

Grey was right. She was already gone.

She looked young, a few years younger than Lucy. Her long dark hair covered half of her face and Tim carefully pulled it back to lay her more peacefully on the sand.

Lucy jumped. The sight of the young woman’s face sent her stumbling backwards. Her hand flew to her mouth to try to stop the feeling of nausea that had overtaken her.

Tim, seemingly the only officer to notice, spun to face Lucy and immediately rose to his feet when he saw the look on her face.

“Chen?” He said, in the same soft tone he had used with her in the shop earlier, a tone she had heard him use so rarely. Lucy felt him reach out and clasp her elbow when she still didn’t respond.

“She was there,” Lucy stammered, forcing the words out between her loud gasping breaths, “She was there, at the bar…last night.” Lucy recognized the victim as the young woman who had held the door open for her.

It was clear the second Tim realized what she was saying. His other hand rose to catch her by the shoulder. “Chen are you telling me that-?”

“It’s Caleb. It has to be.”

They were gathering an audience from their fellow officers, both those who had helped to dig and those that were only now just reaching the scene. Lucy barely noticed them. All she could see was Tim. The fear in his eyes, his strong hands the only reason she hadn’t fallen to the floor.

Lucy choked, unable to hold back her tears any longer, they began to slip down her cheek. The terrible realization hitting them both.

“It should have been me.”

 Hope you enjoyed reading this! A reminder that I am still open for prompts!