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witchywithwhiskey · 26 days

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the alpha next door

pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader

summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov

word count: 8.9k

a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!

When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were.

The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved.

But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…

Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him.

The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.

When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside.

On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.

Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart.

As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.

That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.

That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.

But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.

That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.

He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door.

Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume.

So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent.

Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.

Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit.

But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life.

Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help.

But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.

“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.

One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up.

That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.

Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you.

Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup.

He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.

It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come.

He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.

A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged.

Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.

Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing.

The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him.

But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.

Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.

Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.

Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat.

His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.

When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.

You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.

A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve.

The alpha next door was just so…sweet.

It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor.

And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.

Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?

It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet.

It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together.

You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard.

Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous.

Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun.

You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.

It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…

Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.

Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body.

Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.

The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically.

You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.

The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…

You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.

Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve.

“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.

You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due.

You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.

“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you.

The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it.

“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock.

You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.

It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!”

So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more.

It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun.

Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway.

Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.

Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve.

“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength.

Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together.

In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.

“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes.

Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.

“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.

Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.

Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.

He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands.

Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges.

Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.

Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.

You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.

At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…

God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you.

Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.

That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his.

You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy.

It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped.

“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you.

As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.

By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound.

But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.

“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole.

The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body.

Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.

“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.

He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.

With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.

“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy.

Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.

“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?”

As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot.

Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.

“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach.

“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.

“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink.

“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in.

Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.

“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?”

Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.

“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.”

Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot.

You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.

You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it.

Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door.

The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible.

Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment.

Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.

“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve��s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words.

You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.

“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed.

“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”

You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt.

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!”

“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.”

“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast.

Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.

As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.

For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver.

Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet.

But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.

You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips.

“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer.

Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.

“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”

Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot.

It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.

“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.

When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr.

“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him.

“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness.

You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him.

“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.

The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.

Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.”

You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.”

Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”

You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate.

But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.

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sidekick-hero · 3 months

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Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #rockstar eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 17 #Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost #my writing

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harry-on-broadway · 2 years

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Hopelessly Devoted

Word Count: 3.1K || Rating: M (contains sexual content)

A/N: So is everyone else still worked up over last night? 😅 Consider this a way to work through those feelings. (We’re also counting this as my entry in my own fic challenge lol My chosen prompt is bolded below). Happy reading! Would love to hear your thoughts!

***

“Remind me what you were last year,” you asked.

The question felt weird and it was hard to believe that Harry had been a stranger to you at this time last year given his constant presence in your life over the past ten months.

“Was Dorothy one night and a clown the next,” he said, voice gravelly from the combination of sleep and overuse.

“You set the bar pretty high for someone who supposedly hates Halloween,” you said affectionately, snuggling closer to him underneath the blankets.

“I try to be a good sport. You know, for Mitch” he replied, smirking and popping one eye open. “Get over here, you’re so far away.”

“Harry, if I was any closer I’d be on top of you.”

“Exactly! Get over here.” He lunged for you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you giggled into his shoulder. Once his grip was secure, he rolled back onto his side of the bed, pulling you with him. When he stopped moving, he opened his eyes and gazed up at you. “Hi…” he said softly.

“Can you give me another hint as to what you’re going to be this year? Is it another group costume?”

“You are relentless, woman!” Harry exclaimed, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to tell me what your costume is.”

“Nope,” he replied, pressing his lips against yours, hoping the gesture would placate you and halt the inquisition.

“If you won’t tell me, how are we supposed to do a couple’s costume?”

“Oh, are you planning on joining me on stage?”

“No,” you said quickly. “You know I’m not about that.”

“Then just be patient, love,” Harry said, moving his hand up your body to rub the back of your neck. “I think you’re going to be pleased with what you see tonight. Let’s just get breakfast now.” He released you and nudged you towards the edge of the bed. “How do you feel about scrambled eggs?”

Thanks to the weekend and a couple of well-deserved vacation days, you’d landed in Los Angeles on Thursday evening, ready for a weekend of shows and relaxation. You hadn’t done much else other than watch Harry perform, and he’d apologized for doing a poor job at playing host, explaining that he really needed his rest. You didn’t care though, it was a treat just to get to sit next to him.

You’d headed over to the arena with him in the afternoon, occupying yourself with your phone and making conversation with whoever was around as Harry went through soundcheck and warmed before retreating from the backstage area when he was told it was time to get dressed. “Have fun, love,” he said on his way out of the room. “I’ll be looking for you,” he added with a wink.

With about an hour left until showtime, you took your time putting the finishing touches on your own costume. You’d opted for the easy way out, a version of Where’s Waldo, complete with a striped top and cap, and when you’d finished dressing you made your way into the arena and settled into the area cordoned off for friends and family to watch Ben’s set. When he’d finished, you settled for people watching around the arena.

It was fun to see what everyone was dressed as. Many had dressed up like Harry and there were even a few dressed up as Marvel characters. You checked your phone and saw that Harry and the rest of the band were running late, which made you nervous, even though you knew there wasn’t a reason to be. What did he have up his sleeve? Finally you saw Pauli and Elin come out of the tunnel and head to the stage in bright pink bomber jackets.

No. He wouldn’t dare.

You flashed back to a conversation you’d had several months ago. You were in his arms, sweat cooling on your bodies as you both tried to catch your breath.

“What’s your favorite movie?” he’d asked, chest rising and falling.

The question, while strange for the situation, didn’t catch you off guard. You’d grown used to Harry’s rapid fire question squeezed into every moment you all were able to salvage together.

“Grease,” you’d said without hesitation.

“Really?” he asked. Even without looking at him you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah, I think I was Sandy for like three Halloweens in a row. I used to ask my mom to let me watch the movie every day after school for a couple of years.”

“A couple of years?” he asked incredulously.

“What can I say? It’s a classic!” you said with a laugh. “I also had a bit of a crush on John Travolta. I was very disappointed when I learned that present day-Travolta didn’t look like 1978 Travolta.”

“Noted,” Harry had said, as he rolled back on top of you.

That was all you could think about as you watched Sarah, Yaffra, Mitch, and Ny-Oh file in. You’d counted their characters one-by-one, until you confirmed your suspicions about who Harry would be dressed as.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath as the lights dimmed and the concert’s intro began to play. You kept your eyes trained on the center of the stage, lit up by the spotlight, until you saw the trapdoor open and watched as Harry slowly emerged from the depths of the stage.

The first thing you saw was the wig, and you were only slightly ashamed that it made you feel the way you did, heat spreading through you, setting your body ablaze. The leather jacket and tight black pants had you breathless and you had to remind yourself to take a breath, lest you pass out in the middle of the Kia Forum. The confidence he oozed on a nightly basis was amplified by the outfit, which only drove you wilder. Based on the screams echoing through the building, you weren’t alone in that feeling.

Your eyes followed him as he pranced around the stage. You were brave enough to admit that your gaze was mostly alternating between his ass and – when he’d shed the leather jacket – his arms. You melted even further when you caught a glimpse of the big screen and saw that he had donned eyeliner as well.

A couple of songs in, he caught your eye and threw you a wink, his lips curling into a smile as he did so. The throngs of people in front of you all screamed, each thinking the gesture was directed at them, but you smiled at the knowledge that it was only for you.

The moment of your undoing was at the end of the show, when he tossed the jacket over his shoulder before leaving the stage, running through the tunnel of fans. When he’d disappeared behind the curtain, you and the rest of his team made your way backstage. Harry and the band were high-fiving and celebrating another show in the books, with someone, likely Pauli, starting to pour drinks for everyone. Harry reached for the cup, but stopped when he saw you enter the room, racing over and scooping you up in his arms.

“Surprised?” he whispered in your ear as he spun you around. “Was it worth the wait?” You nodded into his neck. “Why don’t we have a drink and then I’ll get changed and we can head home.”

“How about we have a drink and head home and you keep this on?” you said, surprising yourself with your boldness.

“You –?” Harry pulled back to get a better look at you. “This is really doing it for you?” he asked, throat bobbing.

“Thought you knew I’d always had a thing for Danny?”

“I mean – I didn’t think it was in that way, but hell, I’ll take it,” he grinned. “Tell you what, why don’t we just skip the drink and get out of here.”

“I’d love that plan,” you said. “Don’t forget the jacket,” you added, kissing him gently.

Harry’s eyes widened and you laughed as he all but scampered across the room, grabbing his jacket and offering quick goodbyes to everyone around him.

“Ready?” he asked you, eyes clearer and more focused than they were moments ago. After an affirming nod from you, he took your hand in his and pulled you towards the exit. There was an electricity in the air during the drive home, marred only by Harry’s occasional muttering of “for fuck’s sake” when you hit a tricky bit of traffic, but you made good time and were pulling into his garage before midnight.

He led you through the maze of hallways, not bothering to turn on a light until you reached the bedroom. Once inside the room, he pulled you close to him and placed a searing kiss against your lips. It was surprisingly tame, but you knew he was just trying to control himself ahead of what was sure to be a memorable evening.

“Give me a sec?” he asked when you parted. “I just want to freshen up.”

You nodded, and sat on the bench at the end of the bed where he tossed the jacket next to you. Harry closed the bathroom door behind him and you were left alone in the quiet, empty room. Stretching, you looked down, suddenly aware that Waldo was not the best outfit for setting the mood. You pulled at the shirt trying to expose more of your cleavage before giving up. Your eyes landed on Harry’s leather jacket next to you and an idea formed.

You shed your striped top, rummaging through the suitcase beside the dresser for some of the sexier undergarments you’d packed for this exact occasion before settling on a pair of lacy underwear. You removed the rest of your clothes, replacing your everyday cotton briefs with the red garment and pulled Harry’s jacket on top of your naked torso so that it just covered your bare breasts.

You heard the click of the bathroom door latch and jumped. “Don’t come in!” you shouted.

“Um, OK…” Harry said suspiciously.

You took a look in the mirror surveying yourself and your new outfit for any imperfections, but were largely pleased with what you saw.

“OK, you can come in now,” you said, adjusting your hair so that it fell just right. You arched your back as you leaned against the wall, praying that the pose you settled on was more sexy than awkward. “Tell me about it, stud,” you said in the sultriest voice you could manage as Harry walked in.

Harry stared at you. “What’s this then?”

“That is my line, right?” you giggled, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious over your attempt at seduction.

“You’re fucking right that’s your line,” Harry said, voice low and deep with desire as he crossed the room in three strides and pressed you against the wall. “Say it, again,” he said against your lips.

“Stud,” you whispered, soft and slow.

“Fuck,” he hissed against your skin. You could feel a hardness below his belt as he pressed his full body weight against you.

“Do you like this?” you asked.

“What do you think?” he replied, wrapping one of his hands around your neck and pulling you forward to meet his lips. He closed the gap between you all with a ferocity you’d never experienced. He nipped at your lips, parting them just enough to slot his tongue in between them and you moaned at the intrusion.

Mouths occupied, his free hand traced its way up your waist before settling on your breast. The tip of his index finger ghosted over your nipple in a slow, teasing circle, causing it to harden underneath of his touch. Your breathing quickened and he increased the pace of his circles to match your breath before stopping.

You made a wounded noise at the loss of the sensation but gasped when his mouth replaced his fingers and you felt a jolt of pleasure throughout your entire body. His mouth was hot and wet against the skin of your breast and you tried to stay in the moment and memorize the feel of him on your body. His other hand landed on your left breast and he repeated the sequence.

Without breaking contact, Harry looked up at you as he continued his attack on your breasts, feeling his cock harden even more as he took in the look of pure ecstasy on your face. He was quite confident in his abilities in the bedroom, but he didn’t think he’d ever caused you to come undone this quickly before.

“Harry,” you panted, interrupting his reverie.

“Yes?”

“I need –” you started.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what you need.”

You took a shaky breath. “I need your mouth on my clit.”

Harry bit his lip, closed his eyes, and willed himself not to cum on the spot. You were never shy about what you wanted during sex, but were also rarely this direct, opting for subtle corrections or guidance. When he’d calmed himself, he looked back up at you. “Your wish is my command.”

He kissed down your body, leaving a wet trail down your stomach and ribs, continuing to kiss around your thighs, pulling them apart to better position himself at your center. His hands drifted to your hips and he slowly pulled your panties down until they pooled around your ankles. With nothing between you and him, he brought his hands underneath your ass to pull you close to his face, relishing how the feel of your skin under his palms and the hem of the leather jacket surrounded him in softness.

You placed one of your hands in his hair, ready to push him to you, but he dove in without preamble before you could make a move. He lapped at your wet folds clearly avoiding the one spot you most wanted him.

“Don’t be a tease,” you whined, hating how desperate you sounded.

“You know you like it,” he shot back, and as infuriating as it was, he was absolutely right.

You were relaxing into his touch, growing somewhat content with the feeling and trying to ignore the desire that was pulsing within you. Which is why you were caught off guard when he suddenly locked his lips around your clit, dragging his teeth gently along the sensitive skin.

You yelped with pleasure and felt your knees go weak at the sensation. Harry tightened his arms around you, which served the dual purpose of keeping you upright and bringing his face deeper between your legs, which in turn only intensified the waves of satisfaction that were ricocheting through your body.

“Harry, I’m – oh!”

You knew it was coming, but your orgasm still surprised you, in both its intensity and duration. Harry didn’t falter throughout it, keeping his ministrations steady as he helped you ride it out, only pulling away when he could feel your breathing start to even out.

“Easy there,” he said when you tried to step back on unsteady legs.

You sank down the wall before settling into his lap and kissing him, long, hard, and deep. “Your turn,” you said, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. As you looked into his eyes, you saw that the eyeliner on his waterline had grown smudged from the sweat that dotted his face. “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you,” he said, hands once again finding your ass. “On top. Want to see you.”

You smiled, and eased up onto your knees. “Well, I think these are in the way,” you said, fingering the button of his pants, and pulling the tight garment down his legs, throwing them and his briefs behind you. His shirt was next and once he was completely naked below you, you started to shrug off the jacket you were still wearing.

“No. Leave it,” he said, pulling it back up your shoulders.

His cock was jutting proud, red, and already leaking against his stomach, but you gave him a few tentative strokes anyways as you slid the condom on him, enjoying the way his face contorted with pleasure alongside your touch. Satisfied, you lifted your hips once again and sank down onto him. You were already wet, so you took him with little resistance, but even with that it was still a tight fit and you swallowed thickly when he was fully inside you. You took a moment to savor the sensation that only Harry – not your hand or some toy – could give you.

After a moment, you moved up and down, testing the waters, while Harry hissed below you. You leaned over top of him, your breasts pressed against his chest, the loose flaps of the jacket hanging open over top of your bodies, and you tentatively rolled your hips, slow at first, but building speed until you found a pace that felt manageable for you and good for Harry based on the sounds he was emitting.

“Do you like this?” you asked him. He nodded. “Tell me,” you said. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“So good. So fucking good, baby,” he rambled beneath you. The ragged sound of his breathing and the incoherence of his thoughts indicated that he was close. You knew what he needed and leaned down once more and kissed him, wet and sloppy, and seconds later you felt him stiffen and spill over inside of you. You continued to kiss him, loving the way he moaned against your lips, and when he was done, you lifted off of him and laid down next to him.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. “I–. You –. Fuck,” he finally said.

“Love you too, Harry,” you replied. You shifted next to him, taking off the leather jacket which was now sticking to you uncomfortably. Completely naked, you shivered as the AC kicked on, drying the sweat on your body.

Sensing your discomfort, Harry pulled you into him, gently rubbing your back. “This was a great treat, love,” he said. “Not sure next year will be able to top this.”

“Next year?” You knew you both were happy in the relationship and had no plans for anything to change, but hearing him talk so casually about the future did something to you. Maybe it was the hormones, but you were suddenly overcome by an intense wave of affection for the man lying next to you.

“Yeah,” Harry said confidently, turning to look at you. “You’re the only one for me and I hope I make that clear to you every day.”

“Hopelessly devoted,” you said, with a light chuckle.

“Hopelessly devoted to you, love.”

***

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#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles ff #harry fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic

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gyuswhore · 2 months

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.ᐟ Gyuswhore's 1st Anniversary Celebration .ᐟ

It's nearly been a year since I started posting my writing on this blog (!!!) and I cannot thank all of you enough for being part of this adventure and giving me so much love for my craft. Here's to many many more years of writing and interacting with all of you 🫶!

To celebrate I've planned a little event, I hope lots of you will participate bc I will cry if this flops lol. Please read below for more info!

.ᐟ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 .ᐟ

(limited slots)

╰➤ Pick a prompt from this sfw prompt list or this nsfw prompt list + a member (see below for what groups I will write for). Feel free to mix and match the prompts!

╰➤ One piece of writing per ask (since slots are limited please do not double request!)

╰➤ Writing's will be at least 500 words, but I may go further if I'm inspired enough

╰➤ Groups that I will write for include: Seventeen and NCT (I am partial to Jaehyun and Jeno lol)

.ᐟ 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 .ᐟ

(unlimited)

╰➤Ask me questions about myself (my favourite colour, my opinions on something, literally anything go ham)

╰➤Ask me questions about posted (or unposted) fics

╰➤ Describe your personality (in detail pls if you aren't a moot!) and I'll match you with a member! (pls specify which group)

╰➤ Give me a colour/aesthetic + a member and I'll make you a moodboard!

╰➤ Describe your personality/aesthetic and I'll assign you a painting (or another piece of art)!

╰➤ Feel free to send multiple! But pls send them in separate asks!

.ᐟ 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔 .ᐟ

╰➤ PLEASE refer to this post for my general blog rules (I know it says I don't take requests, pls ignore that I'm only taking requests for this event)

╰➤ Please give some kind of reference towards the event in your ask so I don't end up deleting it on accident.

╰➤ The event will run for almost a month, the last date to send your entry is the 20th of April. Any asks sent in relation to the event after this date will be deleted immediately.

╰➤ I will not start replying to asks until after the 20th! Please don't think I'm ignoring you, I'm just knee deep in uni work and will not have time until then.

╰➤ All posts in relation to the event will be tagged #🎁gyuswhoreturns1!

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years

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Title: Alpha

Pairing: Alpha! Prince!Lloyd Hansen x Omega!Reader

Kink Prompt: Alpha

Word Count: 1,987

Summary: You try to keep your designation from the crown prince.

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, A/B/O, Mating/Heat Cycles, Regency AU, Public Sex, Smut, Darkfic, AU: Dark, Dead Dove: Do not eat, Minors DNI!

A/N: entry number seven, super late, i’m sorry!! i hope you all enjoy. divider by @firefly-graphics

The goblet crashes against the wall, its contents staining the tapestry deep crimson. You flinch at the sound of it, though you keep your hands folded primly behind you and your eyes trained on the smooth stone floor. You know better than to allow your curiosity free reign, especially here.

“Is this all you have to offer?” The prince’s sneer is evident in his tone. “Barren, withered stock?” Through your lowered lashes, you see the duke flinch, his fingers tightening around his daughter’s hand. “Your daughter is ten years my senior, Lord Thayne,” he drawls. “And she is a Beta.” Prince Lloyd spits the word out venomously. And though his vitriol is not directed at you, you feel yourself shrink anyway, your fingers tangling nervously in the coarse cotton weave of your plain skirts.

This time, you cannot force your eyes to remain locked on the gray stone. You peek up through your lashes, your breath suspended in your lungs as Lord Thayne bows his head respectfully despite the prince’s insult.

“My Prince, when your Lord father bade his court to bring forth their eligible daughters, he did not specify that only those with suitable Omega offspring come forward.” The prince’s eyes narrow, and for a fearful moment you wonder if he will reach for his sword. But his hand only twitches upon the gilded, polished wood of the throne.

“Lord Thayne, how long have you served my father?” He asks quietly, leaning forward to address the older man. Thayne casts a rather unsure look about the silent, almost empty throne room. Indeed, only his Majesty, the Prince and the King’s counsel of advisors were present, other than Lord Thayne and his red-faced daughter. You try to make yourself as small as possible, shrinking against the wall as you clutch desperately at the bundle of herbs in the pockets of your skirt.

“Two score years at least, my Prince.” Thayne answers. Confusion is written in the deep wrinkles lining his brow.

“And in that time, Lord Thayne, how often would you say the King himself has asked you to rule in his stead?” The room grows so quiet, you swear you can hear the sound of Thayne’s heart pounding as his eyes widen.

“M-my Prince, I—” The prince holds up a hand, quieting him.

“You have not ruled a kingdom, Lord Thayne. You have not even ruled a fiefdom. How can you claim to know the will of His Majesty? From the looks of it, the only place you hold counsel is your own home, and even that is lacking.”

Lord Thayne’s face is red with anger and embarrassment, his hands clutched into angry fists at his sides. You feel even worse for his daughter, who stands stoically behind him, though her eyes are glassy and wet with unshed tears. Prince Lloyd sighs, waving a dismissively.

“I grow bored of this endless parade of incompetence.” He looks to his left, where advisor Carmichael nervously wrings his hands. “Lord Carmichael. Inform my father I am finished for the day. I will see no more.”

Silently, you move through the throne room as they depart. You gather their discarded goblets, and other refuse as quickly as you can, eager to escape from the chamber. Your movements are quick and nervous. The room is muddy with scents,ball pushing up against one another. Your hand strays to the bundle of wormwood and verbena hidden in the pocket of your skirt.

The prince’s cruel insults still ring in your ears as you make your way through the vast hall, your head lowered. Though they were meant as insults, you hear them as threats. You know what the prince seeks—what he has sought relentlessly since your first heat a month ago.

The memory still dredges up needle-sharp fear. The prince pounding insistently at the door to the servant’s quarters, scratching at it until his fingernails bled and his throat grew hoarse from shouting.

“It’ll block your scent, mostly.” You hope Piha was right, her nervous instruction in the servant’s quarters weeks before would now be tested. You pluck up the pieces of shattered glass, making a basket of your apron. A sly glance through your lashes tells you Prince Lloyd has not noticed you. His rapt attention remains on the advisors, and their urgent whispers.

Good.

Madge drops a few more pieces of jagged glass into your apron, and eyes the stained tapestry with frustration.

“I shall have to have one taken from the east wing to replace it. Dispose of these,” she waves a hand at you. “There is more work to be done upon your return.”

Though you are only temporarily dismissed, you feel lighter as you leave the throne room. It worked. You feel almost giddy, heartened by your success. You dump the glass in your apron into the dirt outside the kitchens, giving it a good shake to dislodge any stubborn shards. I shall have to pick the herbs fresh once a week, so they stay fresh—So preoccupied with your thoughts are you that the crunch of dry dirt under boots goes completely unnoticed.

“You think to deceive me with weeds?” The cool voice stops you in your tracks as the hair at the back of your neck stands up. The prince watches you from the doorway his eyes dark. He runs his tongue across his lips. “Omega.”

“M-my P-prince, I—” Your eyes dart nervously around the small courtyard, searching for an exit. “I-I am not—”

“Do not lie to me.” He snarls, taking a menacing step forward. “Come here, Omega.” A miserable little whine bubbles out from between your lips as you try to resist the command, sweat beading at your brow as your body tries to move without your permission. You lose, though, releasing a shuddering breath as your feet carry you right to him. You despise the part of you that preens at his attention, the part of you that had fought and cried to be allowed to answer the prince’s desperate calls weeks earlier.

He slips a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head to the side. The modest neckline of your dress hides the untouched gland at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Slowly, the prince undoes the clasp, and you hear him hum low in his throat with approval at your unmarked skin.

“I thought myself mad,” he says, tracing the shape of your gland through your skin. “But I wasn’t, was I, Omega?” Prince Lloyd chuckles. “Though if you had your way, I would still be chasing shadows.” He undoes another few, his fingers straying across each inch of new skin he reveals. The impropriety of it makes you tremble, though your body refuses to cooperate with your desire to flee. “You are a lovely thing, aren’t you?” He murmurs appreciatively, either ignorant of or unbothered by the discomfort on your face.

Alpha hasn’t given permission.

“Pl-please, m-my Prince, I won’t tell anyone, I—” You hiccup wetly as terrified tears well in your wide eyes. “Th-the King will not stand for it!” You hope to temper his lust with the mention of his father. He is a prince, invisible to the eye of the law—but you know the price of attempting to rise above one’s station, and indeed it will be you who has to pay it. Prince Lloyd inhales you deeply, his eyes rolling half shut as he hums low in his throat.

“My Lord father is already half in his grave,” the prince sighs irreverently. “How long do you suppose he has to be angry with me?” He reaches for the tie to your stays, and you cannot stop yourself from catching his hand. Lloyd sneers at you. “You deceive your prince. You lie to him. Deny him.” As he speaks his voice grows crueler. “Lamb, I know you know the punishment for treason. The sentence is not light.”

He reaches again for your corset stays, and you whimper as he undoes them. “P-please, please, Your Majesty, n-not here—“

“Everywhere, Omega,” he hisses, “And anywhere I desire. Now, or in a fortnight, I am your King.” The prince tugs at the fabric of your dress so roughly you fear he’ll tear it and leave you with nothing to cover your shame once he’s through. His kiss is needy and rough, his tongue slipping between your trembling lips. You despise it, though the dark, wanting thing purring in the back of your mind glories in his forceful dominance.

The chaste nothings you’d shared with others before you’d been old enough to really know their meaning cannot compare to this. The gland in your neck throbs, the skin around it heating as Lloyd presses his thumb against it. You whimper into his mouth and he devours it greedily, leaving you breathless and dizzy when he pulls away. The prince’s eyes are even darker than before, the blackness of his pupils swallowing up the blue. ‘

He finishes with your stays, and the modest corset falling to the dirt between you.

“Do you think it will matter?” He asks, sliding his hand into the open fabric, pushing it from your shoulder to bare the smooth skin beneath. “What your father’s name was, the lands he never held—do you think any of it will fucking matter?” He cups your breast, dragging his thumb across swelling nipple. “My word is the truth. You are what I say you are.” Lloyd’s mustache scratches against your cheek as he rubs his face against yours, scent marking you.

The warmth simmering beneath your skin grows to a fever pitch, and suddenly your dress feels itchy and uncomfortable against you, your undergarments constricting. There is a sickening want growing in your chest as the prince’s mouth moves down the line of your throat, his teeth nipping at your flesh.

“T-the people with think me a w-whore, your Majesty,” your words end in a whimper as he withdraws quickly. “I-it is indecent, my Prince, i-it will not stand before the council—”

“The council are a bunch of doddering old fools who would rather mind their tongues than lose their heads.” He grasps your chin with one hand while he rucks up the fabric of your dress with the other. Cold stone bites into your back through the cloth as Lloyd presses you into the wall. “And once I place a crown on your pretty head, it will be treason to utter your name and the word whore in the same sentence.”

His words are meant to be soothing, to belay the fear bubbling in your chest, but they do not. You see the golden cage for what it is—a prison, a pretty one. You press your thighs together as his fingers skirt across your vulva, even as your cunt pulses with shameful wetness.

“Open for me, Lamb.” The command is impossible to deny. Your thighs part inch by reluctant inch until Prince Lloyd’s hand fits easily between them. He chuckles cruelly as he slides his fingers through your slick folds. “You see? It’s in your nature, my Omega.” He breathes the words against your lips as he claims them again. “Your nature is to serve.” He circles your traitorously swelling clit with a finger. “Serve me. To love me.”

His fingers force a sharp gasp from your trembling lips, and your own tangle in his fine tunic. You’re burning from within, burning for him, and he is stoking it. Prince Lloyd’s mouth slides over the curve of your cheek and down your throat until his teeth are pushing sharply into the skin above your mating gland.

Dizzy euphoria washes over you as your bleary eyes turn heavenward, staring up at the late summer sky.

“What is it the priests say?” He chuckles, and you taste the copper of your own blood in the air. “Let none tear asunder what the Gods have made one.”

fin

Hello friends! I no longer maintain a taglist, so please follow @box-of-bones-library for updates and new work, thank you!

Likes and comments are amazing, but reblogs are golden! Please consider sharing my work so that others can see it too!

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domaystic · 1 year

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Domaystic 2023 is back!

link to bigger image: click here

[Image description: a blue clothes hanger with clips where socks are drying under the sun; among the socks the word domyastic is separated in three parts and hanged as well. On the right side: the list of 31 prompts and 5 alternatives.]

Hello! This is THE post for DOMAYSTIC 2023 :D

Domaystic is the combination of “domestic” and “May” and it's a prompt event run on May based on the domestic trope: anything inside, outside, beside the house or that has that normalcy flavor of everyday life.

If any of these prompts inspire your muse, please, don’t hesitate and join!

Text prompts

01 Housewarming 02 A stash of... 03 List 04 Packed lunch 05 Learning something new 06 Under the same umbrella 07 Stained clothes 08 The things in that drawer 09 Mistaken identity 10 Bath 11 Volunteering 12 Crisis 13 Taking turns 14 Parade 15 Junkmail 16 Sleeping habits 17 Marked date on calendar 18 Discount at favourite store 19 Police at the door 20 In the nearby park 21 Handmade gift 22 S/o on the local news 23 Small couch 24 Secret language 25 Misdialed calls 26 Sounds from above 27 Passage through a fence 28 Recycling 29 Lottery 30 Feeling of doing nothing 31 Midnight snack

Alternatives

A. No, no, don't lift it! B. There's a ... in the room! C. Stop the car, now! D. Look, I made it work! E. Oh, I can't wait to do it!

Text prompts in German: click here Text prompts in Spanish: click here Text prompts in Italian: click here Text prompts in French: click here

Lots of text under the cut!

General rules and guidelines

All fandoms or original content are welcome.

Any kind of media is welcome: fanfiction, fanart, fanmixes, puzzles, diy art, quizzes, podfics, edits, fic recs or whatever it is you feel like doing. That’s all good.

No restrictions in ships, size, min/max word count or the language you want to write into.

As last year, feel free to mix the domestic prompt with anything you like: more drama and lots of crying? YES! The thrill of an investigation for the disappearance of your characters’ fave socks? YES!

There's one prompt for each day for a total of 31 prompts + 5 alternatives with an exclamation point at the end (predictable!).

You can share your work on any platform you like. If you share it on tumblr and tag the blog, I’ll reblog it.

Combine more prompts together? That’s fine but I will reblog the entry only once here on tumblr.

Combine these prompts with another event? Fine too.

You don’t have to do all the prompts to join the event. Do the ones you enjoy.

The event is consistently checked upon during the month of May, but in case you want to share your creation at a later date, you can. I just reblog on a lower pace after May is over.

As for the reblogs, last year I gave myself a bit of an headache, so this time I’d like to try it this way: once the day of the corresponding prompt comes, people will post their work and then I’ll reblog it when that day comes for me too. Does it make sense? I hope so. I’ll miss the world clocks but let’s just trust each other.

AO3 collection

The domaystic2023 collection is open from May, 1st: click here - all the info and prompts are also on the profile page of the collection.

In your tumblr post I ask you to:

Mention the blog in your post @domaystic - tracked tag: #domaystic2023

State clearly the fandom name or if it is original content

State clearly if it is sfw or nsfw

State clearly which prompt you used

In case of lengthy posts, use the “read more option”: ctrl-shift-k on rich text; [[*MORE*]] on html (remove asterisks)

Please, TAG PROPERLY. If there are any trigger warnings, I will base my own reblog on your tags so, please, take even a moment longer to carefully tag it. I hope all participants to stay safe in this event.

Here’s an example:

blablabla my story is beautiful, look @domaystic !

#domaystic2023 #day1 #[extraA - E if alternative prompt is used] #[fandom name or oc] #[sfw or nsfw] #[trigger warnings that I get from your post] tw

If you have any question feel free to send an ask, inbox is always open. :D

Hi, @thebigbangblogproject can you reblog this?

#domaystic #domaystic2023 #post about the event #domestic trope #prompts #multifandom #prompt event #prompt list #fanfiction #fanart #edits #I hope all the essential infos are included ò_ò #edit of the 1:15pm NOPE I typed some link wrongly ... now everything should work ouch

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frostironfudge · 1 year

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Keep My Secret - (Bucky x Reader x Steve)

Summary: The search for Bucky and Steve is shrouded in darkness, will you find the light and the loves of your lives?

my entry for @the-slumberparty 's week one i spy challenge, i had the theme isolation and setting fairy tale and this is what i came up with, hope you enjoy it! ‘Leather cuffs’ and ‘bouquet of flowers’ were also prompts.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: dark setting, allusions to future dub-con (none explicitly described or stated), isolation, kidnapping, dark magical elements, dark character and one soft dark character (i'm not saying who is who because i don't want to give it away), allusions to torture, wounds mentioned, mind control, power dynamics, dark fae magic.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Steve Rogers

Main Masterlist || AO3

The scent of rain soaked mud slowly clambers up the endless walls. You do remember the word for it, the grogginess around your mind isn’t clearing. Otherwise you’re sure you would know.

A rumble in the distance followed by a louder boom. You hear a cough followed by a groan. The presence is familiar. The darkened room seldom aids your half mast gaze.

Dull aches finally register along your temple and cheekbone. When your fingers reach out the remembrance sets in, leather cuffs. Binds that tie you to this fate. Another groan, your head lols towards it. You whimper as you recognise him despite the state of his body.

“B-bucky?” You call out, his head snaps up, then he groans yet again.

Bucky shakes off the pain, enhanced vision allowing him to trace you across the circular room. Strands of his now long hair fall back. Months. Months spent locked in this tower. Months since he was gone and asked you not to follow.

His brows furrow, there was something different today in the tower and it wasn’t the petrichor. Cobwebs still decorated the ceilings, dust settled in around objects. The table with familiar tools is the only clean surface, and there lay coated in the softest of dew drops—bougainvillaeas. Tied with a leather string. Bucky’s eyes find you again. The flowers held meaning to you. Currently the bouquet symbolises you.

“Malyshka (baby).”

You look back at him from the floor. The flash of lightning outside illuminates him. Blue eyes full of worry, crimson coats his skin. It felt as if eons since you heard the endearment from his lips.

“What have they done?” You beg to know, “Bucky, where have you been? I, I—,”

“Malyshka, I told you not to follow me.” He sighs, on his knees making his way towards you. The chain tugs on his arm when he attempts to touch your face.

“You were gone, you promised and you were gone. Just like he did. I had to find you. We’ll get out.” You assure him, you had a plan, you had the tracker. Sam would find the two of you. “Then we’ll find him, we will all return home.”

“Malyshka, we are—,”

The door opens, cutting off Bucky’s reply.

Fresh flame torches carried in by the soldiers in black and red replace the burnt out ones on the walls. The stone illuminated with an orange glow. The flames flicker as the only window allows wind into the room. They leave the door open.

A larger figure walks in, a mask covering his face, a mane of dark hair surrounds him.

“Did you like my present?” he questions, the voice carries an echo of foreign familiarity, his large palm moving to cradle Bucky’s head, fisting in his hair. Bucky’s jaw clenched.

“Hmm, this hair suits you better. A reminder of glorious days.” The man hums.

“I have no need for presents.” Bucky spits out and the man tsks.

“The gift of flowers was for her, you need to be more appreciative. I remember you being more affectionate.” The man sighs, fingers running through Bucky’s hair, almost intimate. Your brows furrow. The brunette turns his head away away, then a slap echoes through the room, “Be respectful, Soldat.”

Bucky spits out the iron laced saliva pooling in his mouth.

You look at the flowers, one of your lesser known favourites. Only two people knew the meaning the flowers held for you.

Your eyes widen at the HYDRA symbol on the man’s back. He turns to you. The mask hides his identity and unease pools in your stomach as you stare at the void blackened eyes of the mask.

“Tell me then,” the man squats before you, gripping your chin harshly, you cry out as his gloved fingers dig into the cut along your jaw, “I asked you a question, did you not like flowers, mo chridhe (my heart)?”

Bucky closes his eyes as your accusing gaze meets him, then back to the masked man. The dark laughter echoes around the room and cracks your heart into pieces.

He squishes your cheeks together, your tears pool over his fingers, trailing down the glove to his wrist.

“Ste-Steve?” You ask, he shakes his head, taking off his mask. The beard on him familiar, his hair longer, indicating the time of him being gone. However the blue eyes you fell in love with and saw your future in are now surrounded by a thin ring of silver.

The lips belong to Steve but the smile is no longer warm, it only sends a cold chill through you.

“B-bucky, what—,” You sputter, Steve’s grip tightens.

“Are you going to tell her, baby?” He quirks a brow, lazily looking back at Bucky.

Bucky’s shoulders shake, lips trembling. He meets your eyes with tear stained cheeks.

“He isn’t, he isn’t our Steve.”

Your widened eyes move back to him, no, it can’t be, Steve is, Steve is supposed to, what has HYDRA done to him?

“Oh mo chridhe, your shared Steve’s long gone, but fret not. I will make sure the two of you are cared for, like my own sweet little pets. I remember everything your Stevie did and had done to him by the two of you. Mmm, wrapped around me, wrapped around Bucky. You are quite the sight.” He smirks, eyes alight with a mirth you cannot find yourself in this bleak tower.

“Who are you?” You question as he releases you, “you aren’t Steve, Bucky, this isn’t, no. Please we have to fight him! We have to find Steve!” You plead.

Steve shifts, you then see it, Bucky’s missing arm. How had you not noticed? You look around the tower. Flashes pass through your mind, the forest, the mist, and the torn wings. The sobbing man. Pleading for help.

The flash of blonde and blue. The call of help from brunette and azure.

You gave the hunched over man in pain your name.

“Why, I’m Steve Rogers of course. He’s James Barnes and you are Y/N Y/L/N. You should never give the fae your name but shh, my little play things,” Steve cups your head and Bucky’s, “Those little soldiers outside know me as Hydra Supreme. So let's keep this little secret between us three. Hmm?” He raises a brow, then chuckles at your hurt expressions, eyes crinkling and reminding you so much of your Steve.

“Oh cmon, you look at me as if I killed your little Stevie. Maybe I did, but I will make you forget, I’ll let you rule, well atleast beneath me.” He leans closer, lips brushing against Bucky’s chapped lips and then your busted one, he licks the stray traces of blood humming, “What do you say then my pets?”

“If you think for one second we’re going to agree with you you second rate, fucking asshole—,” Bucky’s eyes glow silver, his words cut off, “I want to rule under you, Sire.”

“Please, not Bucky, please, don’t we, Steve, please we—we will rule under you, Sire.” Your words aren’t your own, you watch on as Steve smiles pleased with the two of you.

“Such good pets, I will allow the two of you to feel pleasure tonight but after I’ve had my fill. It’s going to be a long night.” He turns away, releasing the glamour from Bucky.

Bucky blinks, the silver disappearing for a moment from his eyes. He stares down at his arms, both flesh and metal and then at you with your eyes gleaming silver.

“Steve.” He says in warning, “She doesn’t deserve this, please reconsider. I know we wanted her all to ourselves but I can’t strip her of her will.”

The blond clicks his tongue, eyes narrowed at his lover, “I do not appreciate you disregarding every single bit of my sacrifice for you two, James. Do not force me to stoop low for you too.” He turns walking towards the table, picking up the flowers.

“You already have,” Bucky shakes his head, gently cradling your face, your eyes vacant, “I’m so sorry, Malyshka.”

Steve’s jaw clenches, anger coursing through his veins. The flowers fall to the floor, stems broken, petals scattered. Bucky turns, reaching for the gun in his holster.

“You shouldn’t have given me your name, James Barnes. You little humans, your love shall be your undoing.” Steve waves a hand, Bucky lands on his knees.

Dust rising around the two of you, gleaming collars forming around your and Bucky’s necks, chains attached and held in Steve’s palm.

“Now, crawl to your king, my pets.” His menacing smile widens as you both fall on all fours.

-x-

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transcendence-au · 10 months

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9th Annual TAUathon!

Guess what everyone? It’s that time of year again:

We are holding another Transcendence AU ficathon!!!

(I know we didn’t have one last year shh)

Just like last time, any type of content is accepted! Fic? Heck yeah! Art? Just mess me up. Music? Please. It’s been so long. A full feature animated film? That’s very ambitious, but hey we have two whole months so mess us up!

Here’s how it’s going to work!

1. Prompts and Sign Ups!

From now on, we will be taking prompts and sign ups! You can do both by going to this spreadsheet here and submitting a prompt/signing up for a prompt. We recommend doing this as soon as possible, as the sooner you put your prompt in the more time someone has to work on it. In addition, everything under the fic open season and art open season tag is fair game as well!

2. Posting!

Once you have taken a prompt, please have it done by October 5th (the anniversary of the TAU blog)! That’s a whole two months from this post being made. In order to make this a big fun day full of fic and art (like Yuletide on AO3), if you’re done with your entry before the 5th, please schedule your post to go online on October 5th.

3. Questions!

Can we submit our fic/art for the thon to you?

Absolutely! Just let us know it’s for the TAUathon so we can schedule it for the right day!

Do we need to use any special tags if we post on our own blogs?

On Tumblr? Just the usual “transcendence au” and we’ll see it from there.

On AO3? Here’s some advice on how to tag TAU fics on AO3!

Are you going to call Mizar on us if we don’t finish our prompt on time?

Nope. While we encourage everyone who picks up a draft to finish it, we aren’t going to chase you around with the cult basher. Don’t get discouraged if you can’t finish your prompt in time – we still would love to see your content whenever it is ready.

You won’t even get banished eternally to the corner. That’s reserved for people who make super angsty stuff.

I want to participate but I don’t feel like doing any of the prompts? Can I just write/draw my own thing anyway?

ABSOLUTELY! We’re happy with however you choose to participate!

Did you seriously just copy and paste the whole post from the first ficathon?

No, I actually edited the post from the last ficathon. Nyeh!

We hope you enjoy and HAVE FUN! And again the prompt spreadsheet can be found here.

#tauathon #ficathon

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shyvioletcat · 8 months

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ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 23

~ Domestic Fluff ~

Ahh, so as I wrote the prompt for today I think I may have slightly misunderstood the assignment, haha... Anyway. This works as a Part 2 to this fic I wrote a little while ago. Probably not my best work, but hey, it is what it is.

~~~~~

Rowan flew high above the palace, the brisk winds off the Staghorn’s helping him soar. When he had finished training with the palace guards the simplest way back to the royal wing was to simply walk through the grounds. But he hadn’t felt like it, he had woken up too late this morning to take a flight before his day started so this would have to do. He flew in easy circles, starting high and drifting lower and lower with each circular pass. Looking down his hawk eyes spied movement in a courtyard where the children of the court were playing in the sun.

He longed to let out a screech of delight, but then Rowan had a better idea. Down he circled, waiting for the right current to send him on his way. The wind shifted, brushing past his wings and ruffling his feathers. It was exactly what he needed.

Tucking in his wings close to his body Rowan was diving down like he was hunting, aiming for the kill. The children were so caught up in their own game that they didn’t notice him coming until there was a bright flash of light, making them squeal and yell in surprise. Elspeth recovered the quickest, her laughter filling the courtyard and she ran for him. Rowan caught her, spinning her through the air, up and down like she was a bird too.

The little princess loved every moment of it with her arms outstretched like wings. Elspeth was nearly two and was yet to shift, that was if she even could. Rowan suspected she would, although there was always a slim chance that a fae child would be born without the ability to shift especially when there was demi-fae in the bloodline.

He hoped that she would, and that she might take on the form of a bird of prey like his family did. That was an experience he wanted to share with his child. Rowan would teach her to read the winds, how to angle her body to safely move through the sky. That was a dream he’d hold onto until it was decided otherwise.

Rowan set the toddler down, making sure she was steady as she started walking.

“That fun, Da!” she said as she held onto him, evidently not wanting to let go yet. “I was flying. Just like you.”

“You were, my little love.” Rowan couldn’t help it, he dropped into a crouch and kissed her chubby cheek. That set off another round of giggles, then she turned to hug him. Feeling another gaze on him, Rowan looked up and saw his mate watching from one of the windows above them. There was a soft smile on her face as she watched it all unfold. “Go, and play Elsie.”

His daughter listened and wandered off to watch the game some of the older children were playing. Rowan shifted again, flying low so Elspeth could chase him before he flew higher to find an open window. There was someone else that he wanted to see.

Aelin was still watching from the windowed alcove, now tracking his movements. He’d find somewhere closer to his mate to enter the palace. Rowan spotted a window that was open just wide enough for him to slip through. Not as close to Aelin as he would have liked, but it would have to do. After the smile had faded he had seen an odd look on her face and he was determined to discover what it had meant.

~~~~~

Aelin watched as Rowan no doubt looked for an entry to come see her. Another male might have used the stairs, but her mate wasn’t like other males. He was impatient and had a flair for dramatics, aptly demonstrated by his little performance in the courtyard. Aelin knew he had spent the morning training with the guards and again, he could have walked back to the private residences of the palace. Instead he’d flown above the city and found his landing spot, much to the delight of their daughter.

The sounds of children playing had drawn Aelin out of her study and the noise was distracting enough that the papers she had been going over lost all appeal. Seeing her daughter down there, playing with her friends, brought her more joy than expected. She had memories of the court children playing while she watched when as a child. Aelin had felt a profound loneliness and isolation, a heavy weight for a little girl. It was not just her title of crown princess that had set her apart—her powers had been too volatile. It had made her dangerous and the other children had feared her for it.

Aelin lit a small flame in her hand, watching the yellows and oranges dance and weave. Her power was not what it once was, but she was still impossibly strong. Considering her parentage there was a high chance her daughter would be the same.

A squeal shook her from her sombre thoughts. Aelin watched as Rowan held Elspeth out in front of him as they spun. The pure joy on both their faces had Aelin letting out a breathy laugh. Gods, the way her mate adored their daughter, it was making her fall in love with him all over again. It was no surprise that Aelin had fallen pregnant not even two years after the birth of their first. She rested a hand on her stomach as the child in her womb kicked. The movement only started happening a week or so ago and Aelin had forgotten how much she had missed those gentle reassurances.

As a child Aelin had sat in this very spot, watching the children play and burning with jealousy. To soothe herself she had absorbed herself in books, letting those characters be her friends instead. It was not the healthiest way to cope, it was unfortunate that little Aelin hadn’t many choices.

Rowan looked up, spying her up in the window. He set Elspeth on her way and then shifted again. Now Aelin just waited, knowing what would happen next, her ever observant mate had probably noticed the shift in her mood. It wasn’t too long before she heard footsteps coming from behind and then strong arms were wrapped around her. She lent into Rowan’s body, more than content to be held by him.

“What are you thinking about, Fireheart?” He asked, never one to skirt around the point. “I saw you watching and then I saw something in your expression.”

“Oh that,” Aelin said. “I was just remembering what it was like for me as a child, and how different Elsie’s life will be.”

“About how lonely you were?”

Aelin looked up and saw the concern on Rowan’s face. “Yes.”

“Aelin—’’

She shook her head, patting the arm that was braced around her to reassure Rowan that she was fine. “It is what it was, Rowan. Nothing to do about it now except to make sure our past is not repeated.”

“Elspeth will have a blessed life, they all will,” Rowan said, placing his hand where hers rested on her stomach.

Watching the children Aelin knew her own would not share in the isolation she had experienced. All they had sacrificed for a better world had come to fruition. If their children had earth shattering powers, they would have everything that they needed right here to support them. Never again would Aelin have those she loved hide or diminish what they were. Her parents did the best that they could and if evil had not been so determined to destroy all that was good Aelin had no doubt they would have done everything they could to make her life wonderful. Aelin could never begrudge them over the future that should have been. Fate had been cruel to Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius, all Aelin could do now is honour their memory.

“I remember my father found me here once,” Aelin said. “I told him that my dearest friends were characters from my books. There was one, about a princess and a dragon, if I recall. I wondered what it might be like to fly, he said I should ask a dragon.”

Rowan laughed softly.

The almost forgotten memory made her smile. “Preposterous I know, because dragons don’t exist, and I told him as much. I then told him one day I’d ask a bird.” Aelin looked up at her mate. “I suppose you’re the closest I’ll get. What does it feel like to fly, Rowan?”

“It feels… amazing,” Rowan said, a thumb grazing over Aelin’s cheek. “Thrilling and terrifying at the same time. But the way the wind lifts you and all that you can see of the world, it makes me feel free.”

Aelin looked back to the courtyard at where her daughter played, where the future she never thought she’d have was right in front of her. Aedion came to collect his son and Elide was doing the same, while Fenrys tended to the young princess. It was nearing supper time and they’d all gather in the dining hall soon and eat and talk and laugh.

Her dearest friends were no longer words on a page, they lived and breathed, enriching Aelin’s life more than she had ever dared to imagine all those years ago. It had already been ten years of peace and Aelin knew in her heart that this hard won tranquillity would last for many, many years to come. She would fight for it until she had nothing left to give.

“Fireheart,” Rowan said softly, worry edging his tone.

“I’m thinking too much,” Aelin shook her head, trying to shrug off the heavy mood that had fallen over her. She knew the remedy for it, and she appeared at the end of the hallway now.

“Mama!”

Fenrys put his charge down and Elspeth ran for her mother and father. It was Rowan that caught her, bringing Elspeth high enough that Aelin could kiss her cheeks. Being in the presence of her family was enough to dismiss the shadows of the past. It reminded her of the future she had the blessing to live, and of those she had the honour to share it with.

~~~~

Thank you for reading and yep... still no tag list

@rowaelinscourt

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jesuisici33 · 6 months

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2023 Writing Round Up!

Writing Round-Up: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones your most excited about.

i honestly didn't think i wrote/published a lot of fic this year, but that actually turned out to be a lie when i went back and checked out my stats this year so i'm pleastantly surprised and impressed with myself! so here's my writing round up!

January

Drabble Life 2023 - Jan 2nd, 2023 - (Schitt's Creek, 1.9k)

new year, new drabbles! drabbles based on weekly prompts from schittscreekdrabbleblog on tumblr

A Lesson in Flirting - Jan 3rd, 2023 (Schitt's Creek, Teen, 1.9k)

a 5+1 fic where patrick is oblivious when women flirt with him and 1 time where he knows when a man flirts with him

Public Relations - finished Jan 31st, 2023 (Schitt's Creek, E, 38k)

Patrick Brewer and Rachel Davis are everyone's favorite rom-com actors, and since this is the sixth time they're playing a couple and with the public demanding when they're going to start dating, their PR manager, Alexis Rose has them perform a PR relationship for two years to help promote their latest movie. Patrick, however has recently been casted in the new book to series adaption of The Thief and the Prince alongside David Rose, making his fake relationship with Rachel go into jeopardy

February

Month of Love - all month long (Schitt's Creek, 11.8k)

My attempt at doing 28 drabbles in 28 days!

Patrick vs. The Sexy Vets - Feb 7th, 2023 (Schitt's Creek, Teen, 461 words)

"Smiling quizzically at Dr. Miguel, Patrick was about to ask what he meant but his question died on his tongue when Miguel set the kennels down so he could take off his shirt."

Or, a little drabble of what if Patrick was there when Miguel shot that photo for that add of his?

April

Keep My Hands Tied - April 4th, 2023 (Schitt's Creek, E, 2.4k)

Right now David was on his knees in his and Patrick’s bedroom, taking steadying breaths as Patrick loped the blue rope around David’s body slowly around him. It wasn’t often David asked Patrick to dominate him. When they first got together, David found out his inclination of Patrick to be slightly wrong. But the way Patrick said, “Oh, I’m gonna get the money,” or, “You’re going to sit here and think about what you’ve done,” that time when they got back together… That tone never failed to leave David’s vivid imagination or fantasies.

June

What We Don't See At The 118 - June 20th, 2023 (911, 381 words)

Prompts I've received on tumblr*

*lol this only has one entry so far, this fic was supposed to be for little drabbles but some prompts i've recieved have grown to one-shots in my wip folder whoops

It's Photoshop - June 30th, 2023 (911:Lonestar, Teen, 567 words)

TK meets a friend who also likes bearded dragons. And Carlos' secret comes out.

July

cause i believe that we were supposed to find this- July 10th, 2023 (911: Lonestar, Teen, 3.2k)

As soon as they are at the scene a cop is already there waiting for him. He’s younger than TK expected. He greets his dad before letting him take the lead of the scene. TK doesn’t get a good look at him, doesn’t bother interacting with him - too busy to do his job of getting Allison out of her car. In fact, he even forgets about the timer on his wrist.

If he did, he would’ve noticed that the countdown is less than a minute.

When the 126 find out that Allison has another baby - one not still inside her - it doesn’t take long for Paul to figure out the baby miraculously landed in a tree. And isn’t that a news story. The cop comes up to TK and asks, “How the hell-” when two distinct buzzing sounds go off.

Both men look down at their wrists.

Or, you're born with a timer on your wrist that counts down to when you meet your soulmate.

Castles Crumbling Down- July 14th, 2023 (911, Teen, 1.5k)

Eddie sits down on the bench, laying his head back against the cold stone wall. With his eyes closed and arms crossed, he hopes it fools the guards into thinking Eddie is more calm than he really is. That they can’t tell how much his heart is pounding or how his skin itches to start punching things. Again. Just like how they found him when his hood fell off and people let out cries that the Princess Assassin is here amongst them.

OR: i had a tumblr prompt in my ask box and when i watched nimona things finally clicked.

You Can Take the Man Out of the Midwest... - July 29th, 2023 (911, G, 1k)

At first, Bobby gets trolled for all things midwest, it isn't until later he can use his teammates non midwest knowledge to his advantage...

September

yes i know that he's my ex but can't two people reconnect? - Sept 25, 2023 (911:Lonestar, E, 2.8k)

seeing him tonight - it's a bad idea, right?

(fuck it, it's fine)

tagged by @wikiangela and @hippolotamus

tagging @malewifediaz @911-on-abc @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @daffi-990 @rmd-writes @spotsandsocks @liminalmemories21 @aroeddiediaz @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz @giddyupbuck @bonheur-cafe @wandering-night19 @alrightbuckaroo @tyfinn @lizzie-bennetdarcy @your-catfish-friend @pirrusstuff @carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @eowon @apothecarose @mammameesh @heartshapedvows @fortheloveofbuddie @cultofsappho

#can you tell when college got the better of me? lol #anyways hopefully the writing bug will bite me again soon!

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suchawrathfullamb · 5 months

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The Last Door

What lies concealed on the last door of their mind palace?

"Perhaps one day the door shall yield to your touch. I hold faith that your desires shall find fruition, as they always have."

Months drift by, and on a day's journey through the palace, Will calls for Hannibal, met only by silence. He diligently opens every door, traverses each room—boarding schools, Parisian abodes, Florentine parks, Roman galleries, his mother's kitchen, Baltimore's office, a Spanish lake—yet Hannibal is nowhere to be found. At the end of one corridor, he sees the door. Tentatively, he approaches, hesitant to force entry.

"I'm going in," he declares to the air, a message intended for Hannibal's intangible senses. "If you're stuck here, I have to get in...alright?" A moment passes, unanswered. Gently, he pushes, finding the door unlocked.

Stepping inside, his heart races, anticipating nothing less than hell itself. Yet, he discovers a room. Simple, austere, dimly lit, with a solitary window and a modest bed. It appears aged, melancholic, and vacant—nothing more. Then, he spots Hannibal, perched at the window's edge, basking in the sun's gentle radiance. But this Hannibal is not as he is now; he appears much younger, scarcely more than twenty. A different type of beauty, unlike his present refined danger, but rather an angelic allure. Clad in a white tee and jeans, captivating Will, who smiles involuntarily at the sight.

"Hey," he murmurs softly, approaching Hannibal and resting a hand upon his shoulder.

No response greets his gesture; Hannibal remains fixated on the view beyond. Will attempts once more, pressing a fleeting, tender kiss upon Hannibal's lips. Still, no reaction. He observes, ponders, then, instinctively, circles him and settles onto his lap, with his arms around his neck, hoping for acknowledgment. Yet, Hannibal remains detached. Will's hands trace through his hair, his ear, then his neck, intensifying the kiss. Finally, the barest hint of response, Hannibal's eyes meet his, inquisitive yet distant.

"It's me," Will whispers, his voice a gentle plea.

A furrow graces Hannibal's brow. Perhaps this version of him doesn't recognize Will.

"Hey," Will tries again, another kiss gracing their lips.

"Love?" Hannibal responds, studying him intently.

"Yes," Will smiles, "I'm love. I missed you." Will finds solace, resting his head upon Hannibal's shoulder. "I looked everywhere for you. Are you stuck here?"

"Always so," Hannibal responds, fixated once more upon the window's expanse.

Frowning, Will maintains his position, taking in Hannibal's familiar scent enveloped in the fabric.

"What is this place? I anticipated something horrible, yet it's just a room," Will muses, running his fingers through Hannibal's hair. "There's nothing, but you."

"Yes."

A pause lingers as Hannibal remains captivated by the outside world, while Will simply clings to him, allowing the silence to persist. Then, breaking the quietude:

"You seem so different. So beautiful. I want to make love to you like this."

This prompts a reaction; Hannibal turns to him. "Love?"

Will leans in, bestowing a smile upon their kiss. "Yes, love. Can we?"

"Are you my love?"

"Yes. You're mine."

"I do not recall you, but I am aware of you."

Will contemplates whether this ensnared version of Hannibal before him mirrors the present reality or if the Hannibal he knows resides elsewhere. Encounters with alternate versions of Hannibal were rare within the palace; typically, they existed in each other's company. This version of Hannibal, however, appears adrift, bearing a hidden hurt, imperceptible yet palpable. He exudes an aloofness markedly different from the familiar Hannibal.

"I want you." Will tries again, coaxing Hannibal to recline upon the bed. Compliance follows, yet Hannibal remains unresponsive. Even when Will presses kisses upon his neck, he lies inert, his gaze fixed on an unseen horizon. Will withdraws, conceding defeat. Disappointment lingers, the yearning to experience this particular Hannibal tempered by guilt, as if imposing upon a wholly disassociated soul.

"Sorry," he murmurs, planting a kiss upon Hannibal's forehead. "You are so different. I just want it to experience you like this, see what it felt like."

Hannibal remains silent, unyielding in response.

What is this place? It looks like an attic.

Enveloping Hannibal in an embrace, Will turns his head, finding himself face-to-face with the present Hannibal.

"Oh, hey."

"Will."

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"What brought you here?"

"I was looking for you, couldn't find you."

"What did you see?"

"Nothing. Just a younger version of you. That's all."

"Just me."

"Yes. I liked you."

"Did you?"

"Not as chatty as you are now, but yes."

"It's funny how I can feel you, always, Will. No matter where I am. Across time and before you. My heart always recognizes you."

"We're timeless." Hannibal's smile, though present, carries an unmistakable distance. Could Hannibal leave this place by himsel? Could he truly become stuck?

"I can," echoes the thought, resonating within Will's mind. "No barriers here, remember? Our minds coexist."

"You can be trapped here?"

"Why else do you think I stay at bay? I come near only to secure the door. It often creaks open. Dust from the inside stains my clothes, yet I brush it away."

"What is this place? Tell me."

"This is nowhere. A void with nothing, just me."

"Just you. What makes 'just you' so dreadful?"

"It's empty."

"An empty room, nothing more?"

"An empty iteration of myself. I can scarcely recall this version. I filled the void with something else to endure."

"Endure what?"

"I am uncertain."

"What happened within these walls?"

"I died here. And from that death, something else emerged within me."

"I thought nothing happened to you, Hannibal. You happened."

"Yes, precisely. I did. But where was I before I happened?"

"Here?"

"My mind orchestrates a meticulous order, that allows the manifestation of the 'me' you recognize. Each fragment snugly ensconced in its rightful place."

"I want to see you in totality, every fragment."

"I, too, lack acquaintance with every fragment. Some are dangerous."

"More dangerous than those already known? I find that hard to believe."

"The familiar parts pose a threat to others. The unknown ones are a danger to me."

"Is something about Mischa? Or what happened after your parents?"

"Nothing like that. These are familiar traumas, digested and benign now. What lies here is of a different nature."

"Such as?"

"I'm not sure. It feels innate, not a chance occurrence."

"Is there… something wrong in you?"

"You make it sound as if it's a disease. But it doesn't bear that resemblance. It's more akin to an inherent spiritual wound."

"How does it affect you emotionally?"

"It seldom does. I don't grant it much allowance. But when it does intrude, it feels like a void, a vacuum pulling me in, threatening to engulf me within nothingness."

"I want to see you. Let me see you again."

Hannibal understands his intent. Unsure of how to summon it at will, yet somehow, in their mental haven, Will's desires often find realization. Abruptly, Hannibal feels himself receding, and before Will stands the younger iteration of Hannibal again.

"Hey, there," Will's softened expression reflects as he gazes upon the notably different and delicate Hannibal.

No response comes; Hannibal remains fixed on the window.

Gently cradling Hannibal's face, Will implores, "Could you talk to me? Please?"

Finally meeting his gaze, Hannibal murmurs, "The love."

Will chuckles softly, finding himself beside words, yet relishing the purity in the way this version of Hannibal regards him. "Yes, I am the love," he affirms, planting a tender kiss upon Hannibal's forehead. "And you are my…the love," he continues, smiling warmly.

"Why did you leave?" Hannibal finally inquires.

Confusion etches itself onto Will's eyes. "I…didn't?"

"You left. Before our existence… Before all."

"I don't remember that."

"Why did you separate us?"

"I didn't, Hannibal. I'm not sure I understand. Can you show me? Can we uncover this memory together?"

"It is here. In this room. This is our memory."

"I've never been here; this place isn't familiar."

"There. Outside."

Will glances at the window Hannibal had fixated upon. The sunlight floods in, but there's nothing else to see. "There's nothing here, Hannibal."

"I'm not Hannibal."

Startled, Will turns swiftly. "What? What do you mean? Of course, you are. I know you, recognize you."

"You compelled this form upon me. I was love. You were love. Now I'm this, and you're that."

Will feels the onset of a headache, a soft tremor, like an earthquake within the palace's confines.

#lamb writes #hannigram #nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #fanfic #mind palace

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whump-kia · 6 hours

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poll results tell me to participate in the Whumperless Whump Event (which i'm going to be affectionately referring to as WWE from now on lmao) and thus. I Made Some Guys.

introduction under the cut if you're interested! the vibe is spy-thriller-with-robots (it's long. i'm very sorry.)

FIRST UP: Jace Vela Journey (relaxed he/him)

Jace, also known as JJ, or popularly as Journey, used to be a hero. His small town didn't really need one, but when things happened, and they were wrong, JJ stepped up. Moving into the big city brought him into scarier territory. He earned the title of Journey--over the course of several months, he planned and executed the downfall of a major superhuman trafficking ring.

However, in the peak of his fame, "Journey" disappeared. JJ was seriously injured (or ill, undecided). He needed time to heal. He's put into cryosleep. So, Journey is presumed dead, until he wakes up five years in the future, when the city has fallen into the worst criminal activity slump it's ever seen. And that's all thanks to:

Morrigan (they/them)

Sometimes called Morri, and public alias Morrigan White, is an android. Personally built to infiltrate, dismantle, and destroy opponents of the company who built them. They can kill without being found. They can manipulate with the most genuine wide smile you've seen. They do what they are commanded to do.

Unlucky for their creators, though, and with Journey presumed dead, Morrigan was never programmed to see JJ as an enemy. And when they meet, JJ takes full advantage of this, and manipulates Morri to his side. It takes too long for Morri to fully wake up. And by that point, they've been used by everyone they've known.

VIBES

I'm aiming for a sort of enemies-to-lovers arc, with blurred lines between platonic and romantic Morrigan often patches JJ up, and when roles are reversed, JJ typically panics--he's completely unfamiliar with android anatomy, and has no idea how to help. JJ does his best to teach Morri how to live as a human; Morrigan helps JJ adjust to the new world.

The two of them remaining friends have pushed them into an "it's us against the world" mentality. Everyone distrusts everyone. They really only have each other to rely on. So when something goes wrong, they end up looking to the other for help.

so those are my guys. any prompt fills i finish will be tagged just as another entry in the event, with no extra embellishment or rewards--I'm only entering for fun, on the side, and will be focusing on running the event.

also i made them kiss (@whumpbug this one goes out to you)

picrews!!

anyway. thank you. [bows out of frame]

#the somewhat superhero vibe was inspired by bug's work so PLEASE go read theirs first because its sososo good #i tried to go for a superhero adjacent universe because i want to write about spies tbh #i just watched spies are forever sue me #i want organized crime and crazy corporation madness.#whumperless whump event #character intros #strings universe

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sidekick-hero · 3 months

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What a month! 29 days (thank you leap year), 29 fics, 51k words. I had so much fun doing @steddielovemonth and challenge myself to write something every single day.

You can find all my entries under the Read More ⬇️

Carry You (mature | wc: 4k | tags: drug addiction, hurt Eddie Munson, post break-up, hopeful ending | prompt: Love is letting someone take care of you | AO3)

My arms belong around you (mature | wc: 509 | cw: mild smut | prompt: Love is bodies touching, whether it’s soft cuddles or sliding together towards orgasm by | AO3)

Rooting for you (explicit | wc: 2.6k | tags: open ending, mention of Eddie/OMC, short Steve/OFC scene, frat boy steve, modern au, fuckbuddies, not really unrequited love | prompt: Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking the leap | AO3)

Slaying Dragons (general | wc: 2.1k | cw: none | tags: childhood friends, Eddie lives, fluff and tiny bit of angst | AO3)

Hate to be lame (mature | wc: 1.1k | tags: spy au, spy boyfriends, established relationship | prompt: Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing by | AO3)

We can be heroes (general | wc: 1.2k | tags: feelings realization, Kas!Eddie (flashback), smoking weed together, boys in love | prompt: Love is what makes you brave | AO3)

true colors (explicit | wc: 2.1k | tags: getting together, fluff, love confessions, Steve takes care of Eddie | Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him | AO3)

He was sweet like honey (explicit | wc: 2.7k | tags: friends with benefits, they are in love your honor they are just bad with words, food sex (ice cream), slight dom/sub undertones (dom Steve/sub Eddie), blowjobs | prompt: Love is sharing food | AO3)

Safe Haven (teen | wc: 3.2k | tags: werewolf!Steve, Human!Eddie, hurt!Steve, Eddie taking care of Steve, minor characters death | prompt: Love is feeling safe | AO3)

are you still mine? (teen | wc: 2.4k | tags: future fic, steddie in their 40s, second chances, mutual pining, happy ending | prompt: Love is the hope for a future together | AO3)

the past, the future, through death my arms are open (mature | wc: 2.1k | tags: mutual pining, Eddie/OMC (nothing explicit), memory of the past | second part to are you still mine? where Steve remembers another moment from their shared past | prompts: Love is keeping a spare sweater/blanket in the car because they always get cold and Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask | AO3)

sink you teeth (explicit | wc: 563 words | tags: vampire!eddie, blood drinking, smut, established relationship, part 2 of Love from the other side | prompt: Love is being late to work because you can’t ever say goodbye in a reasonable amount of time | AO3 )

Butterfly Effect (mature | wc: 1.5k | tags: friends with benefits, Eddie Munson is bad at feelings, but Steve makes him talk about them anyway, at least in metaphors, emotional hurt/comfort | prompt: Love is letting yourself be loved | AO3)

when we were made it was no accident (teen | wc: 1.2k | tags: rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, secret relationship, part of @thefreakandthehair and @firefly-party and mine project pickup note | prompt: love is staying in bed for five extra minutes because you can’t tear yourself away from them just yet | art by Kei | story in the same verse by Lex | AO3)

that ultra-kind of love (you never walk away from) (teen | wc: 509 | tags: established relationship, first time, virgin!eddie, just soft boys being soft, not the actual smut I am sorry | prompt: Love is terrifying | AO3)

Let Go ( explicit | wc: 509 | tags: established relationship, fluff and smut, soft boys being soft | prompt: Love is helping them unwind after a rough day | AO3)

Someone New (teen | wc: 1.7k | tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, soft boys, Steve takes care of Eddie, Vecna aftermath | prompt: Love is a warm hug | AO3)

only soul I ever saved (explicit | wc: 1.1k | tags: established relationship, sub!eddie, top!eddie, dom!steve, bottom!steve, porn with feelings, Good Boy Eddie | prompt: Love is liking the version of yourself you are with them the best| AO3)

something about us (teen | wc: 1.4k | tags: college au, meet-cute thank to a fire alarm | prompt: Love is giving him your sweater even if it makes you cold | AO3)

take you with me (mature | wc: 2.1k | tags: outlaw!eddie, future fic, starcrossed lovers finding each other, happy ending, the happy ending to he’s all that I’ve got (don’t take that sinner from me) we deserve | prompt: Love is the only thing we can take with us | AO3)

safe & sound (teen | wc: 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | prompt: Love is asking, “do you want a blanket?" | AO3)

will you find me in the stars (mature | wc: 2.1k | cw: major character death (temporary, as in reincarnation) | tags: soulmates, starcrossed lovers, reincarnation | summary: In every life, in every universe, they will find each other again. What’s a lifetime if you measure it in eternity? | prompt: Love is a fire that never goes out | AO3)

will you take me home (teen | wc: 2.7k | tags: animal shelter workers Eddie and Chrissy, platonic stobin, background buckingham, Idiots to lovers | prompt: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him | AO3)

Anything for love (teen | wc: 790 | tags: established relationship, former jock Steve, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, in fact he’s so in love he would do anything for love | prompt: Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy | AO3)

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fluff #steddie smut #steddie angst #steddie drabble #steddie au #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing

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snowbellewells · 6 months

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Very Belated Birthday Gift Fic: "Fighting Dragons with You (Time of my Life)"

This birthday gift for @searchingwardrobes is nearly a month late now, but I had promised it and really didn't want to scrap the thing. Even if it's just a bit of fluffy drabble, I still wanted to give Melanie something.

This little fic takes place sometime in the future of the happy beginning we might have seen post the s6 finale, if the show had stayed in Storybrooke. Part of the idea came from listening to Taylor Swift's "Long Live". I was driving along, and when the lyrics got to "I've had the time of my life, fighting dragons with you..." I could picture an older Emma and Killian still together and happy, looking back on all their adventures and happy they had weathered them together.

The other thing that prompted this was just that I picture you, Melanie, having such a solid, supportive marriage like I tried to envision for CS here. I haven't even met your husband (and sadly I have only met you in person once) but just from what I know, you two seem to have each other's backs so beautifully, and to be such caring and committed partners, like one would hope to find in marriage. So this was meant to be a bit of a birthday tribute to that too. (If that makes any sense!)

Okay, at any rate, here is this little one shot - I hope you enjoy it!! Happy very belated birthday @searchingwardrobes

**Also available on AO3, if that is your preference**

Summary: Several years down the line, Emma and Killian are still living their happy beginning together - reveling in every challenge as long as they can face it together.

by: @snowbellewells

As they came in the door of the house with the white picket fence by the harbor, Killian and Emma Jones were out of breath, disheveled and nearly stumbling with fatigue. Emma could tell easily just how exhausted her husband was, in fact, by the way Killian let the door swing closed behind them without even looking to see it latch carefully as he usually did, and by the way he toed off his boots and left them lying haphazardly in the entry without neatly standing them side by side before plodding straight toward the living room couch. She was right behind him though in the beeline to a comfortable seat, kicking her own shoes off as well and tossing her jacket at the hall tree without even blinking when she missed by a mile.

Emma had to chuckle tiredly as they both let out groans of relief when they collapsed onto the cushions of their well-loved sofa and sank into the cozily plush support, heads falling almost simultaneously to rest on the back next to one another. She let her eyes fall closed for a minute, knowing Killian was doing the same beside her without even looking. Once their breathing slowed to normal, she carefully tried to stretch her twingeing knee and flex her stiff ankle, hating to admit to herself the discomfort that she wouldn’t have felt even five or six years ago. From the corner of her eye as it flicked back open, Emma could see Killian wincing while he gingerly worked his shoulder, and smirked in spite of herself. At least she wasn’t alone in her aches and pains reminding her that she wasn’t 28 anymore.

Even though she was more than a bit winded herself, Emma couldn’t resist resting her head on his arm along the back of the sofa and sifting her hand through Killian’s dark hair, now impressively shot through with silvery-gray strands that somehow made him even more attractive, before she teasingly asked, “Feeling your age there, Babe?”

Killian snorted indignantly, as she had expected, before retorting smartly, “I believe I am doing quite alright for my age, Love. As you well know…” Somehow, despite both of their weary bodies, a twinkle came into his eye that made her flush immediately remembering just how true his words were.

Nevertheless, she hummed low in her throat, cutting her eyes to study him playfully, “If you say so, old man.”

Shaking his head, Killian wrapped both arms around her, pulling her to him abruptly enough to startle a surprised exclamation from her as he rubbed his scruffy cheeks against her neck and collarbones until she squirmed. “Why don’t we discuss this again when an actual, living and fire-breathing dragon has tossed you about?” he chided in a low rumble at her ear.

Emma couldn’t hold onto her jesting scrutiny of him any longer; she was simply too glad that he was alright and all in one piece, though out of breath and his clothes a little singed. She was tingling with adrenaline at their victory and the excitement of fighting together once again, but she would never take for granted both of them coming through a battle unscathed - not after how many time in their lives she has nearly lost him. Her hands came up to cup his face, as she raised it for their foreheads to rest against each other, affection flooding her countenance and replacing the playful mockery. “You’re right, of course,” she whispered sincerely against his lips. “Thank you for being there with me.”

As he was all-too-often able, Killian seemed to grasp what she was thinking - both the elation, and the rush of adrenaline that came from having missed the challenge of facing a foe to save their town, their family and friends, and the spark of danger that had always stoked their simmering chemistry when they faced it head-on and side by side. Winking at her in the sassily knowing way he had perfected long ago, Killian quipped, “Admit it, Lass, you’ve missed the thrill of chasing baddies and fighting for our lives, haven’t you?” His tongue did an obscene sort of run along his lower lip as he awaited her answer, and Emma felt the heat flush across her skin in response, even though she fought to deny his observation.

She reached out to smack his chest good naturedly, already realizing he knew her too well to believe her denial anyway. Still, she tried with a laugh and shake of her head, “Hardly,” she snorted, but then added sheepishly, “Well… maybe a little.”

“Aha!” he crowed, tapping the curve of his hook lightly to the tip of her nose as if to accentuate the point. “I knew it!”

“Stop,” she grumbled, not at all pleased to be so obvious in something that really wasn’t a great opinion to admit.

Killian, sensing her hesitation, sobered quickly and gathered her closer to his chest. “Ah, Love, don’t you worry,” he murmured low against the sensitive soft skin of her shoulder, his words a whispered secret for her alone. “You ought to know I won’t tell another soul. Besides,” here he pulled away just enough to waggle his brows ridiculously at her, making her stomach heat and tingle just as it had the very first time he’d done it - when they were still on opposite sides in another realm and she hadn’t known what to do with the reaction her body already had to him, with or without her conscious permission. “Dashing rapscallion, remember? I’m having the time of my life being back in action. Wouldn’t trade it for anything, dragons and all.”

Emma huffed disbelievingly, amused despite her protests at his words, knowing that as crazy and reckless as it sounded, he meant them completely. And she agreed with him in every fiber of her being - from the Queen of Hearts, to a gigantic snow monster, the Lord of the Dead himself, Peter Pan, and Rumplestiltskin - his having her back had made all the difference. Not just facing fairy tale villains, but in facing down health scares, sheriff re-elections, Henry heading off for college, and the truth of growing older, all of it was made into an adventure because he was with her on the journey.

Studying his face, the creases of crow’s feet accentuating his adoring smile, the curve of his irresistible lips, and the wide open blue of his eyes, Emma still had to pause a moment in wonder. How had a woman to whom no one had ever paid any attention, whom most had never even noticed - whom the one who had, hadn’t hesitated to leave behind - a lost little girl no one had ever wanted - found her way to a life and a union like this? Even after years together, she and Killian were more bonded than ever, even their differences and struggles made them more fiercely devoted as time somehow hurried on. She had found her way into the life she’d always wished for on those sad blue star candles each lonely birthday for years on end. Though she had fought him every step of the way, when she had finally let Killian in, he had more than kept his word; once he’d won her heart, she had ceased to be alone in the world.

“You know it’s true, Emma,” he pressed, the smile on his face clearly seeing and understanding her fond, amazed thoughts.

Smiling back, Emma could only reply hoarsely, “You know, you crazy pirate, as hard as it is for me, I believe you.”

Pressing his lips to her forehead, Killian chuckled - as pleased at her admission and all that they had built as she was. “Even in peace time, wherever we are, Swan, there is never a dull moment with you.”

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @kazoosandfannypacks @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @stahlop @bluewildcatfanatic @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @ineffablecolors @drowned-dreamer @wefoundloveunderthelight

#cs birthday fic #cs one shot #cs future fluff fic #fighting dragons with you (time of my life)#birthday fic #happy belated birthday @searchingwardrobes

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kashi-prompts · 2 years

Note

Kakashi sees fem!Reader in a kimono for the first time, and finally can't deny his feelings.

Prompt: Above

Rating: MA

TRIGGER WARNING: This prompt has graphic description of an attempted sexual assault (not by Kakashi). If this is triggering for you, I hope you can find comfort in another one of my fics. I promise I'll write something fluffy later.

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader

***

The mission scroll slid across Tsunade's desk, the ink bold and freshly written. A red finger pointed to the kanji lettering, pressing the Jonin to observe, but his mind was elsewhere.

"Hatake," Tsunade warned. His dark eye shot up, connecting with hers. Her stern gaze slumped his shoulders. He shoved his hands further into his pockets.

It wasn't like him not to pay attention to a mission brief, nor was it like him to feel rather apathetic towards such a high-ranking mission. He nodded his head and mumbled an apology.

"What's going on with you lately? You seem distracted the last month or so," the Hokage questioned, sitting back in her chair. Cocking her head to the side inquisitively, her amber eyes met his.

"Nothing," Kakashi responded quickly, waving a dismissive hand. His spine straightened in a demonstration of attentiveness. "Just a little worn."

"Anything on your mind?" Tsunade quirked an eyebrow up.

"No, I'm fine," he said defiantly, clearing his throat.

"Please pay attention then."

Behind him, the oak entry slid open against the linoleum, and footsteps appeared beside him.

"Ah, [y/n]," Tsunade cooed, "thank you for coming."

"Thank you for having me, m'lady," [y/n] bowed slightly.

Kakashi could feel his body go rigid as she appeared beside him. He glanced over at her, giving her a curt nod. Of all people, he thought.

"I have a mission for you both - and it may not be an easy one, but I have faith that you'll both be able to pull it off. Both of you have a different skill set that I feel is valuable to the outcome of this mission."

"I am honored, m'lady," [Y/n] bowed her head in thanks.

"Mhm, well - on the outskirts of the Land of Earth, there is a prestigious - and rather new, might I add, village that goes by the name of the Village of Gold.”

“Gold?” Kakashi questioned.

“They’re rolling in it,” Tsunade responded, almost bitterly. “But that is beside the point. We have been commissioned by a neighboring smaller village, the Village Hidden in the Lotus, to obtain a scroll that they suspect the Gold has confiscated. This scroll is a relic to them, one that they traditionally use to assist with their crop growth - their main source of income."

“Interesting, and what does the Gold need with this scroll?”

“That is a good question,” Tsunade sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Intel tells me that their soil is fertile, so I can't imagine the Gold has any business needing assistance with crop growth. My guess is that they want more land. The more vulnerable and poor the Lotus is, the easier it will be for the Gold to take over. At least, that could be part of the reason. You'll both have to figure out the rest. ”

“And our mission?” [Y/n] asked.

“Retrieve the scroll from the Gold,” Tsunade replied, rolling the mission paper back up and handing it to Kakashi. He looked down at it before tucking it in the top pocket of his flak jacket.

“You leave tonight. I anticipate it will take the evening to travel there, followed by a day to scope out everything. Find the scroll, and bring it back here. Don't kill anyone, and don't let anyone know who you are or we will find ourselves in a war we don't want to be involved in. Need I emphasize more that this is a stealth mission? DO NOT make a scene. Understand?”

Both heads nodded at the Hokage's words. She glanced between them both, a suspicious look in her eye.

"Have you two ever been on a team before?" she asked abruptly.

"Not a two man team, m'lady," Kakashi responded quickly. [Y/n] glanced over at him, his gaze straight ahead at his superior. She nodded her head, her eyes still fixated between the two of them before taking in a deep breath. The tension could be cut with a knife between the two standing shinobi. [Y/n] closed her eyes in shame, her mind traveling back to that mission months ago.

"I understand what you're saying," Kakashi had replied quietly, the fire a twinkling glow against his sharp profile. “But... you- you deserve someone better than me. Trust me.”

"I don't understand," she had said, shaking her head. "Why do you say that?"

[Y/n] sat beside him on the ground, her eyes round in anticipation of his response. She blinked, wondering if he would respond to her question. A moment passed, then two. Her eyes fell, looking away in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, looking over to her.

His gaze was genuine, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. In the tent beside her, she could hear Yamato sleeping, their whispers drowned out by his incessant snoring. Her chest tightened uncomfortably. The risk she had taken to confess what she was feeling to her superior was more than she ever thought she could manage. Yet, being shot down by him, and not even directly, was worse.

"Right," Tsunade nodded, her gaze still apprehensive. "Well, there is one other thing you'll need before you leave. Formal attire. I don't expect you to travel in it, but you cannot enter the Gold Village's grounds without it. It would make for an obvious discovery of who you are. You'll find it in those bags behind you. Now go, and come back in one piece, will you both?"

***

Kakashi hitched his backpack up over his shoulder. The silence between them was deafening. Of course, there wasn't always chatter while traveling, but this time, he could feel the tension.

"So, how have you been?" He finally asked hours later. He knew he should have said something earlier, something witty to lighten the mood. Yet, he had nothing. Nothing to say that could fix what he had damaged.

Their friendship had once been fresh; a blossoming new relationship that he cherished beyond words- the type where you connect with someone and instantly know that you will get along with them. She was much like him. Much like Guy. Much like Yamato. Much like his friends. The moments between them were like those where that you only have with lifelong friends. The ones that have known you since you were young.

He had confided in her on long nights, and she in him. There was something special between them, a bond that he yearned for since that one mission where things had changed. My, how he regretted that night.

"Fine," [y/n] responded curtly, her sandals kicking a rock as they walked.

"That's good," he replied awkwardly. A bird cawed above them, dusk finally coming to a close. The bushes running parallel to the path rustled with nights early wind.

“What’s that over there?” She asked, pointing to the horizon.

“I’m not sure,” Kakashi stopped, observing.

“You’re the one with the map,” [y/n] mumbled beside him.

"Right," Kakashi replied quietly, pulling the scroll from the breast pocket of his flak jacket. "Looks like its a hot spring. This is good, we can freshen up and stay there for the night. It'll be less suspicious if we aren't musty."

"Speak for yourself," [Y/n] quipped, walking towards the onsen. Behind his mask, the beginnings of a smile spread across Kakashi's lips. That was the old [y/n], he thought.

***

[Y/N]'s Perspective

"One night," Kakashi said to the inn owner behind the counter.

"Okay," the young woman smiled between the two, curious. "Here on business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure," Kakashi quickly responded.

"Oh, wonderful. I hope you enjoy your stay. Is there anything I can help you with during the day? Any directions?

Kakashi considered her question for a moment, "Just here to visit the Gold village I've heard so much about."

"Oh," the young woman frowned, looking back down at her paper. Her expression changed, hardening.

"Not a fan?" Kakashi asked.

"I suppose you can say that," she looked back up, tilting her head. "We're not affiliated, despite the close proximity. Little dishonest, vile group of people if you ask me. So please do not-"

"No worries," Kakashi lifted a hand.

"Right, well - will one room be okay for the lovely couple?"

"Two," [y/n] responded quickly. Kakashi pressed his lips together in an awkward smile to the attendant.

"Two," he confirmed curtly. The woman smiled back at him, lifting an eyebrow as she continued writing.

"And would you like dinner to be included?"

"No." "Yes." The two responded in unison.

"Yes," Kakashi responded defiantly. "Dinner would be perfect."

"Right, well, a late dinner will be served in about a half hour if you would like to get settled and meet in the private dining area. You're lucky, you're the only ones here tonight despite tomorrows festivities at the Gold."

"Tomorrow's festivities?" Kakashi questioned, signing his name as he crooked an eyebrow.

"Yes, they're having a grand opening of their artifact museum. I thought that is what you would be here for."

"Ah, no," Kakashi smiled, sliding the paper back across the counter to the attendant. "But that is great to hear. Thank you."

Outside, dusk had fallen to darkness. The birds no longer chirped, their songs quiet for the night. [Y/n] put her backpack down in her room, grateful for the moments of solitude she was afforded. Glancing towards the window, she looked out at the night sky, frowning.

She missed her friendship with Kakashi. Everyday, she thought perhaps the embarrassment of the wound she received from him would diminish. But it never did. It felt fresh, the embarrassment still new.

Thinking again back to that night, she bit her bottom lip. How could she have not known he didn't feel the same way about her? How could she have assumed he would have the same feelings? Her naivety stung.

The way he spoke to her all those nights they had stayed up talking, quiet and attentive to every word she spoke to him, making her heart race. A tender glace. A hearty laugh. Fingers brushing against skin on accident, or perhaps on purpose. Often times, she would catch him staring at her, his single eye soft with affection.

And yet, after all those signs, there was nothing to reciprocate back to her. He simply did not want her.

"Dinner's ready," she heard behind her. A turf of white hair appeared at the sliding door.

"Thank you," she turned back around, her eyes settling back out the window. "Perhaps you could knock next time."

The door slid back closed without another word. She took her time heading to dinner, making sure all her items were unpacked for the night before arriving. When she did, she realized he had waited for her before eating.

"Nice of you to finally join," he quipped, looking up from his novel. She smirked, noting the battered book in his hands. Some things never changed. His eyes never left the page until she sat opposite of him. One dark eye traveled over the top of the pages to her.

“I was busy,” she murmured, snapping apart her chopsticks. He set the book down and began to do the same.

“Did you order this?” She asked, picking at them fish on the table. Her stomach growled at the smell of it.

“I did,” Kakashi replied, almost quietly.

“Mahi Mahi?” She commented, gently placing the fish on her rice. Her favorite.

“I remembered,” Kakashi lifted his brow, making eye contact. Her cheeks prickled with warmth as she scolded herself, shoving the fish in her mouth.

“I want to talk about tomorrow,” he said moments later. “We need a plan. I have a tourist map of the city, it’s not incredibly detailed, but it will do until we find out more.”

“Do you suppose the scroll is in the artifact museum?” [y/n] queried, poking her rice.

“I have a hunch it might be. Although I don’t understand completely why they stole the scroll, I can’t imagine they would actually know how to use it. If you consider the physical description of it, one might surmise that it is of high value.”

[Y/n] nodded, “and how do you suppose we steal if it is under glass or behind some type of display.”

“Well, we'll get there when we get there. But I would imagine that is where you come in,” he smiled, pointing his chopstick at her.

“Oh, great.”

“Nothing bad. But if my assessment is correct and they are displaying it as some type of relic, then we will be posing as two art collectors looking to purchase it from them.”

“But we couldn’t possibly afford what they are looking for. Just look at this place,” she pointed to some of the scenes on the map, “a statue of a cow made of pure gold? A clock tower made of gold? Surely they drive a hard bargain.”

“Part of being a shinobi is to think quickly on your feet, this is one of those scenarios,” Kakashi replied.

“What if we can’t afford what they are asking for though? This is something we should think of before we get there.”

“Then we distract them,” Kakashi replied without hesitation, “One of the reasons you were assigned to this mission is your ability to copy physical objects of out your own chakra. Judging by the size and shape of this scroll, I doubt it would be hard for you to create a replica quickly.”

[y/n] nodded, “Right, of course. I’ll just pull it out of my ass while you stand on your head or something.”

There was a moment of silence, and she wondered if she had gone too far and disrespected him. But then she heard him let out a noise and she lifted her eyes to meet his. Suddenly, a roaring laughter came from both of them. She couldn’t help but laugh as he did. And for a moment, only one moment, it was just like old times. Just like the way they used to laugh with each other over

He caught her eye, the smile on his faced etched in the fabric of his mask. She stopped, feeling a blush creep back up her neck again as he stared at her fondly. The same tender gaze he used to give her. The one that she fell for.

"You know," he began. She held a hand up, knowing suddenly what he was about to say.

"Please, Kakashi."

"No, I'm serious," He leaned forward, his expression twisting as he struggled to find the words. "That night - when we were on that mission - I just, I really shouldn't have said what I said."

"But you did," [y/n] replied coolly, setting down her utensils. "So let's not-"

"I di-"

His words were cut short by the door sliding open, the old woman at the front desk poking her head in. Her eyes were two crescent moons, crows feet wrinkles dancing across her cheeks as she smiled at them.

“Curfew is in 15 minutes, children. Do hurry,” she offered before sliding the door shut behind her.

[Y/n] turned back to him, his eyebrows high under his messy bangs. Without another word, the two finished their meal and retired to bed.

***

The morning sun peaked through the curtains as [y/n] pressed her palms down against the silk of her kimono. It wasn’t often she wore anything besides her uniform, but it was especially unusual to find herself in formal attire.

She swept the tube of lipstick across her barren lips, feeling the delicate gloss coat them. Pressing her two lips together, she felt herself smile with satisfaction. She had awoken early to braid her hair, pinning it up in a more formal style she was surprised she even was able to manage. She hadn’t worn make up in years, yet when she was told she needed to look proper for her mission, she felt it would make the most sense given her usual dull appearance (at least, this was how she felt).

Looking back at herself in the mirror, her mind wandered to Kakashi again, a familiar yet bitter area of her mind where her thoughts often settled. Bitterness rose up in her mind at that single memory.

And to have the nerve to bring it up again last night! She thought.

Brushing her hair back with her fingers, she sighed. Just her luck she would get stuck with him on this mission. Their friendship was irreparable, even at his feeble attempt to talk about it or simply laugh like old times. She would’ve rather died than spoken about that night again.

“Hm,” she hummed contently as she admired her reflection, a smile forming at the corners of her lips.

The sound of knuckles rapping against the sliding door filled the quiet room. A knot formed suddenly in her throat as she turned at the sound of the door sliding open.

“You knocked today, but you should at least wait for me to respond,” she quipped before she even saw him, knowing.

“Well we should get-oh,”

The atmosphere in the room changed immediately.

One dark eye swiveled over to her as the remainder of his words fell from his lips. Whether he intended it or not, she felt his gaze travel down the length of her silk kimono, consuming her in a way that told her he couldn’t resist.

A stricken gaze returned to her eyes as he stood up straight and took a step towards her, composing himself. She noticed the muscles in his jaw clenched tightly under the fabric of his mask. The usually calm and composed Copy-Ninja was clearly flustered and trying desperately to hide it. The rouge she had dusted on her cheeks earlier darkened as she looked away. Surely she would melt if this continued.

“We should get going, yes,” she finished his sentence, glancing back up. He had looked away, scratching the back of his head. Was he blushing?

“Yes, of course,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably. Finally, she was able to get a good look at him as well. His kimono cinched perfectly to his body, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders.

"Here, let me get your bag," he reached over to pick up her belongings.

"I've got it," she replied just as quickly, reaching. Her hand clasped over the shoulder straps before his had reached, grazing over the back of her palm. Surely she could blame the rug for the electric shock she felt when she had touched his hand in that moment. Or the fact that his chakra nature was inherently lightning based. Anything except what it was.

She stood up, meeting his gaze. Her eyes glanced quickly at the base of his neck, watching him swallow.

Goodness, he was so handsome.

“Let's hurry then, right?” she managed, pulling her bag over her shoulder before walking past him, exiting the room before he could say another word.

***

Upon entering the village, it was clear from the start where they should head. Hitching up her long Kimono, [y/n] traveled past merchants selling festival souvenirs, gold items polished brightly to offer to any naive tourist. [Y/n] nodded to the vendor as their eyes followed her. The further down the path they took, the stranger the village appeared. It became apparent very quickly that they were one of the youngest people in the village. Even the merchants and store owners were nearing at least middle aged.

Another observation [y/n] noticed rather quickly was that there were seldom any women they passed by.

“There are hardly any women around here,” [y/n] whispered to Kakashi. He nodded, his gaze fixated ahead towards the huge building at the end of polished road. She worried their interaction had distracted him. It had certainly distracted her. The most unusual thing for such a stoic shinobi such as himself.

“Interesting,” was all he managed.

They arrived at the entrance of what looked like a museum shortly after.

"This must be it," he said to her, looking up at the gold dome that housed the museum.

Lines of older looking tourists eagerly queued for their chance to purchase tickets. [Y/n] nodded politely again at the ticket seller as he looked her up and down. Was her outfit too much? The few women she had seen had been dressed just as nice, although they were much older. She blushed nervously.

“Is this where they are housing the artifacts on display?” Kakashi asked the man, gesturing to the museum gate. The ticket seller nodded, pointing his chin to a smaller line to the side.

“If you’re looking to buy, you can head to the art dealer line over there,” the man offered.

“Art dealer, yes - perfect,” [y/n] looked up at Kakashi. She noticed he didn’t seem himself since their interaction in her room. As they walked towards the art dealers line, she took his elbow and stopped him.

“Are you okay?” She asked, meeting his gaze for the first time since that morning. "You seem distracted."

“I’m fine,” he waved a hand dismissively, looking away, “this outfit is just uncomfortable. Let's go.”

They were quickly ushered in with dignitary status through the side door. Only a handful of others followed them in, their formal attire higher end than anything [y/n] had ever seen. She picked at the fabric of her silk as she observed the stitching detail of the man in front of her.

“Finally!” A boisterous voice appeared beside them, “the day has come! Our grand opening!”

Kakashi stood straight, slipping quickly back into his calm demeanor as the goal of the mission neared. She exhaled, her eyes falling to the man who had spoken so loudly.

His beard was large and white, combed through and almost polished under the yellow lights. His robes were flamboyant and rather tacky, yet high end enough to pass as someone important.

He had to be older, she thought, much past middle age yet still agile enough to get around quickly. She looked back up at him when she realized he hadn’t said anything. Two beady eyes were staring back at her and her alone. She smiled, extending a hand as she intuitively fell into her fabricated role as a confident art dealer, just as Kakashi had.

“Yuki” she introduced, providing a fake name as she shook the man's hand. His fingers look manicured.

“Hiro Goro,” the man replied, “at your service!”

Kakashi followed suite, his hand reaching for the mans' as well. “Ren.”

“First to extend a hand! Admirable,” the man said, looking back at [y/n]. His eyes bore into hers, intent on something. The way he stared at her was unlike any way anyone had ever looked at her before. It’s was different - hungry. Her foot shifted back uncomfortably, but her expression remained confident.

“Come, come!” Goro gestured for them to follow, leaving the others who had stood in line longer up in arms. Clearly, the two of them stood out, and [y/n] wondered if it were a good thing or a bad thing to receive such special treatment.

“So, looking to buy some things for the young married couple?” Goro smiled back at them, clearly eager.

“Oh, we’re not married,” [y/n] quickly replied, flushing. “Just colleagues.”

Goro turned around quickly, almost suddenly, and raised two eyebrows, “Ah, well that is just wonderful. You're too beautiful to be taken. A lot of men must be after you!" He smiled, winking.

[Y/n] laughed uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

As Goro turned around, [y/n] felt a grip on her upper arm. “Stay close to me,” Kakashi muttered to her, the fabric of his nose against her ear. He pulled away and she looked over at him, wanting to tell him she could take care of herself, but the man spun around again before she could protest.

“So, what are we looking for?” Goro asked, walking in reverse. “Paintings? Sculptures?”

“Ah,” Kakashi spoke first, “a mix of everything.”

Goro nodded, assessing the two with a smile, “Right. Well, right this way. Let's start at the beginning.”

***

The museum was much larger than the two of them had originally anticipated. Hallways and staircases leading them to different exhibits housing artifacts from regions near and far. [Y/n] looked around, noticing different alarms set in each room, all heavily armed and ready for anyone that came near any artifact. She hummed it herself, wondering.

“There it is,” [y/n] whispered what felt like hours later, pointing discreetly to the scroll situated behind a glass wall. Kakashi looked over, acknowledging the item before returning his gaze to Goro , who was teaching them a both about a rather new looking ceramic vase he claimed was 200 years old.

[Y/n] bit her lip, assessing the situation unfolding before her. There was no way to get behind the glass. She leaned back, looking to see if there were a door of some kind, but there was nothing. Just alarms and cameras situated at every corner. There was no way Kakashi could hold off distracting him long enough for her to find the correct entrance to the exhibit, bypass the security and then somehow replicate the scroll, all without being seen. Even now, more patrons were coming through to this section of the museum, all looking curiously at the different artifacts.

Did they know this was a stolen good? Did they know any of this was probably purchased with dirty money? [Y/n] inhaled deeply, her eyes set on the scroll.

“Interested in something, Yuki?” Goro smiled, rubbing his hands together and taking the chance to come closer to her. He slid between Kakashi’s body and her own. Kakashi looked over Goro’s shoulder to her and made eye contact. His head bobbed in a sublet nod.

“Yes, this scroll over here,” [Y/n] smiled warmly at Goro, gesturing to the scroll behind the glass. “It’s quite something. We collect ancient scrolls. It says on the description that it is from the Land of Lotus?”

“Yes, yes!” Goro nodded, his cheeks red and puffy as he grinned. “Bestowed to us from one of their finest leaders. He was a friend of mine back in the day - a true warrior. But alas, they needn’t not anymore. He was gracious enough to donate it to our museum.”

[Y/n] made no sign of disbelief, despite her knowing the truth of the origin of this scroll. It disgusted her to know what a blatant lie this man was telling the whole world, all to make a profit.

“Wonderful,” she smiled, “Ren, what do you think?”

“It’ll make an excellent addition to our collection,” Kakashi nodded, stepping back between her body and Goro’s.

“Wonderful,” he repeated, “Jeri, would you please go and grab the scroll for these young folks? Wrap it up nice, would you, good sir?”

An elderly looking man in the same getup as Goro nodded, shuffling his feet away.

“Well, shall we go discuss pricing then?” The two of them nodded, giving each other a quick uneasy glance as they walked toward a back office with the man. He waved enthusiastically to a few patrons, each calling out his name as though he were an old friend of theirs. Again, [y/n] noticed the seemingly absent women in the group. She wondered what that was about.

“So, pricing,” Goro sighed, sitting down behind his large polished wooden desk in his office. Clapping his hands together, the gold rings on his fat fingers clashed as he folded them at his chest. “300,000 Ryo.”

Kakashi nodded, seemingly unfazed by the offer, “250,000,” he countered.

The old man reappeared, holding the scroll which was wrapped up in a silk piece of fabric. Goro thanked the man, shooing him away as he smiled widely at the pair. Carefully, he unwrapped it and showed it to Kakashi.

“275,000. And perhaps you’d like to throw in something else?” Goro smiled as he placed the scroll before them on the desk, this time showing his teeth in his grandiose smile. They were all perfectly straight, like little porcelains piano keys.

“I’m not sure I understand?” Kakashi cocked an eyebrow at the man. [Y/n] looked over at him, her spine cold suddenly with a chill.

“Well,” Goro laughed lightly, looking down at his desk for a moment as though it were obvious. “In the Land of Gold, we like to barter. I have something you want, you have something I want. Make sense?”

Kakashi’s chin rose, his eyes looking down at Goro as [y/n] looked between the two. Goro’s eyes landed on her, his expression haughty and dark.

“I think you have the wrong idea, Mr. Hiro,” Kakashi replied, “we do not make business like that.”

“Oh, but I do,” Goro replied quickly, standing up. “And I’ll get what I want, or you won’t get anything.”

“I don’t-“

“Fine,” [y/n] replied quickly. Kakashi looked over at her, his eye wide. He clenched his jaw, as if to say ‘what are you doing?’

“You’ll give us the scroll?” [y/n] asked, surprised at herself. Under no circumstance did she want to do this. On the contrary, she had never been more frightened of a man her life. But she couldn’t think of another plan. Kakashi would only talk in circles to him, unwilling to give her up. There was security everywhere, cameras setup at each corner. To top it off, they didn’t even have the money to begin with. Their original plan was a bust, the security of the scroll was much higher than they had originally thought.

“Don’t worry, Yuki, dear,” Goro smiled, snaking his hand between the two of them. “Of course. You have my word. I just want to get to know you. A man such as myself gets lonely, you understand, right, Ren?"

"Mr. Hiro, I don't thin-"

"Don't worry, Ren. We'll only be a little while. I just want to chat. Right, Yuki? My guards will keep you company, Ren. Yuki, darling, let's go chat in the other room, shall we?"

Behind him, two bulky middle aged men appeared, each yielding a gun. [Y/n]’s eyes widened; she had never seen a real weapon like that before. Only civilian countries used such weapons - ones that easily killed. Kakashi looked around, his mind clearly trying to think of another plan as quickly as possible while Goro ushered her to the next room over. Her body tensed as his hand slid up her back.

Tsunade’s words echoed in [y/n]’s mind, “don’t kill anyone and don’t make a scene. We don’t need to get involved in a war.”

Her eyes locked with Kakashi’s, as if to tell him ‘I’ll be okay - think of something to get that scroll.’

Still, his eye was a dark pool of concern and panic. She had never quite seen him this way, lines forming at the waterline of his bottom lids.

Closing the door behind him and leaving Kakashi alone in the room with the two guards caused her heart rate to jump. Anxiety enveloped her, rushing through her bloodstream like a dam being broken open.

She instantly regretted her decision as Goro went over to a bar situated on the opposite side of the room, pouring himself a glass for both himself and her. How could she distract him long enough for Kakashi to think of a plan? He was smart, but how could he bypass all of the security?

“Won’t you sit?” He offered, pointing to a leather chair opposite of him. He handed her the drink, and she took it. Looking down into it, she wondered what was in it.

“Don’t be so nervous, Yuki, dear,” Goro smiled, sitting beside her, “I am not going to hurt you. As an unmarried woman, you have nothing to worry about, right? A beautiful woman like yourself should be worshiped. I've never quite seen someone so beautiful as you. Do tell me where you're from. You should take my gestures as a compliment." The back of his finger caressed her arm and she recoiled.

“Drink, drink,” he smiled, lifting his glass, “it’ll calm your nerves.”

“I am good, thank you,” she replied, placing the drink down.

“I insist,” he picked it back up and handed it to her. Smiling uncomfortably, she lifted it to her lips and filtered the drink against her teeth, ensuring none was drank.

There was another knock at the door opposite of them, the one that wasn’t connected to Goro’s office.

“Come in!” Goro grinned, putting his glass down on the coffee table before them. He clasped his hands together in excitement, looking over to her with raised eyebrows. Her stomach churned nervously, feeling a cold sweat suddenly spread across her skin.

‘How can I get out of this?’ She thought, her eyes darting around desperately.

The sound of another man entered behind her, “Osamu, I’m glad you got my message.”

Before she could turn around, she felt a hand clamp on her mouth, muffling a squeal that came from her lips. Without hesitation, her wrist was grabbed as well, yanking it behind her head. Her hair pin slipped out of her hair, making a subtle ping on the marble floor behind the chair.

Frantic, she grasped at the palm against her mouth with her free hand, clawing at the man’s hairy fingers that pressed so tightly to her lips. She could use her jutsu now, but that would clearly cause a scene. They would be outed as ninjas and surely be confined as prisoners of war. Panicking, her eyes widened as Goro stood, gently placing his hand on her knee and sliding her dress up. Her reflexes immediately jerked him away, kicking him in the stomach with her heel.

“Feisty,” Goro grinned wildly, “Just how I like them.”

A muffled cry came from her mouth behind the man’s hands. She continued to push him away with her feet, but her efforts were fruitless. Her chest cramped as tears welled in her eyes, looking up at the ceiling as she writhed her body in the chair. His thick hands slid up her thighs, smooth, disgusting fingers reaching the hem of her panties.

“Should I sedate her, Goro, sir?” Osamu asked. How could she have subjected herself to this? Why did she say yes? What did she think was going to happen? Panic rushed through every nerve ending in her body.

She jerked, kicking her foot against the coffee table. The sounds of shattering glass skidding across the floor filling the room. The noise was louder than she had anticipated, but it merely blended in with the high velocity of blood pumping in her ears.

Please let him have heard that, she begged to herself.

"Those were good drinking glasses," Goro scowled at her, looking back at the shattered glass on the floor. "Nasty woman."

She felt as though she were going to faint from adrenaline, fear and now anger. She tried to wrangle her hand free, using ever bit of her strength as she used the other to push Goro away. They slipped out of Osamu's grip before he quickly grasped it again.

"Osamu, please take both of her hands. You should know better."

The mysterious man behind her pulled away his palm from her mouth to grab her free wrist, collecting it in his other strong hand. She yelled out at the chance before his hand slapped back on over her mouth.

A tear crept from the corner of her eye as she continued to writhe beneath him, feeling this old man pulling her underwear down, sloppy bearded kisses sliding up her thigh as he knelt before her.

All at once, the door behind her slammed open, its oak finish bouncing against the wall from impact. Her eyes widened as Goro looked up, his expression changing from lewd to stunned.

“Get out!” He ordered loudly, pointing at whoever had opened the door. [Y/n] knew as soon as the grip of the man’s hand slid from her mouth and the sound of fists against flesh filled her ears. Thinking quickly, she kneed Goro between his legs, standing up to see Kakashi behind her with the burly man who held her captive in a headlock, choking him. Goro cried out in pain, gritting his teeth as he stumbled backwards.

“Get back here, you disgusting whore!”

Lunging forward, Goro grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back as she pulled her panties back up her legs.

“Get off of me!” She yelled, elbowing him in the face, hitting the base of his nose and hearing it crack. Without hesitation, her hand landed smoothly at the base of his neck and he leaned forward in pain. She finished him off with a knee jerk to the forehead, knocking him out.

With her chest heaving, she looked down at her assailant, his body face down on the marble floor. Everything had happened so quickly, she was unsure of how to process it. She looked around the room, her vision tunneling with adrenaline.

“Are you ok?” Kakashi asked her, his eyes watching her the whole time as she looked around. She swallowed, looking over at him. Her expression must have disturbed him, as she felt his hand on her wrist, guiding her out of the room. The two guards in Goro’s office lay face down as well. His hand slipped between hers, squeezing it.

“Are they dead?”

“No, just knocked unconscious,” he replied. His hand felt warm in hers, but her heart still pounded uncomfortably in her chest.

“I have the scroll. Let’s get out of here, quickly,” he told her, pulling her out of the office and closing the door to ensure no patrons saw the mess behind it.

***

The two reached the edge of the village quickly, their feet taking them beyond the onsen they had stayed at the previous night. They didn’t even retrieve their belongings.

Finally, 10 minutes later, they reached a clearing in the woods, and [y/n] stopped. Kakashi looked back at her, his expression concerned.

“You didn’t have to save me,” she told him defiantly, though her voice cracked. Her thoughts felt irrational, yet she was still reeling from the adrenaline.

"I was fine, I swear, I was fine," Her words said one thing, but her voice cracked as she lifted her head to the sky, the back of her hand on her forehead. She closed her eyes. Panic seemed to consume her body again, dizzy as she felt the rough feeling of Goro's beard against her thigh.

She had almost been raped. Raped for a stupid scroll. How could she have been so stupid? To think she could just talk to this man while Kakashi distracted the guards.

“I know,” Kakashi said to her calmly, turning back to walk towards her, “but there was-“

“But you didn’t have to, I could’ve saved myself,” she said, her voice shrill with anxiety, “I could’ve done it - I don’t -“

She couldn’t find the words. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that man’s haughty expression staring back at her, like a piece of meat in front of its prey. Her knees gave way beneath her and she fell to the ground, a sob erupting from her chest.

“Hey,” Kakashi called quietly, kneeling down beside her. Quickly, he gathered her up and pulled her close to his chest, feeling her body wracked with sobs as she clutched his kimono. His hand slid up into her hairline, pressing her head to his collarbone firmly.

“It’s okay,” he whispered to her, sitting on the dirt path himself, “you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

“Why did I do that?”

“You didn’t do anything,” he assured her, “You’re not an object to be bartered for and taken. It's not your fault.”

“Oh god,” was all she could manage, muffled against the fabric of his clothing. His arms held her tight, wrapping around her shoulders as his body rocked back and forth slightly to comfort her.

She wasn’t sure how long she had stayed there against him, unsure of how long the panic had taken to melt away from her, coming and going like the ebb and flow of the ocean. When it would return, he could feel her body go rigid and he gripped her shoulders tighter.

“It’s okay,” he would whisper against her ear.

Finally, she pulled away, eyes red and puffy as she looked back at him.

“Thank you,” she managed.

He gave her a soft half smile, reaching his hand up to her temple and pressing his palm to it to sweep away her matted hair. Something stirred within her, a longing for his touch that she had always wished for. It comforted her. Whether or not she was vulnerable in this moment was besides the point. She wanted nothing more than to be with him. To feel safe with him.

The energy around them shifted, his eye staring at her and searching her face as his hand fell to her jaw. A thumb grazed it warily. His gentle gaze was a stark contrast from Goro’s - tender and caring.

She was sure he was only comforting her, assuring her that she was safe. But the way his hand felt against her cheek, delicately caressing the base of her jaw with his thumb, twisted her stomach in a much different way.

“[y/n],” He said softly, “I know this isn’t the best time, but I have to tell you something.”

Her eyes searched his face, her mind reeling from the sudden change of events. How quickly everything had unfolded today, coupled with the trauma experienced left her feeling dazed. She felt his fingers weave themselves into the hair at the nape of her neck.

“I’m sorry for what I said on that mission,” he managed, his expression genuine. He studied her face, piecing together the words in his head. It was clear he was struggling. Her heart raced, this time pleasantly.

“I feel - I have always felt-“

Without hesitation, [y/n] leaned forward, pressing her lips to his clothed ones before he even finished his sentence. Pulling away, she looked up into his wide eye, blush creeping up her neck as she thought she may have crossed another line. But before she could even apologize, she felt his mouth press against hers, tender yet feverish. Two lips moved carefully over hers, the fabric between them a soft barrier that filtered the heat of their breaths. Reaching up, he pulled the cloth over his chin, pressing them back to hers in fervid kiss that left her feeling delirious.

She pulled herself into him more, gripping the lapels of his kimono as he splayed his palm against her back, pulling her close. His lips moved to the corners of her mouth, and across her cheek. Leaving delicate kisses in his wake before nestling his nose in the crook of her neck.

They stayed like that, her nose breathing in the woodsy sent of his grey hair. She peppered kisses across the shell of his ear, feeling calm for the first time since they had left the village.

Pulling away, he pressed his forehead to hers, his fingers pressing the hair at the nape of her neck down.

“I love you,” she heard him say, barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure she heard him right, but as her eyes connected with his, she knew his words were true. She lifted her hand to his face, seeing it for the first time as her fingers slid down his cheek to his jaw. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Please forgive me.”

*******

4 months later

No one ever forgets the trauma experienced by an attempted sexual assault. The wounds are ever fresh, barely scabbing over in your mind. Yet every day, little by little, there is someone there to mend them. To apply balm to them and ensure they heal. Whether that healing take months, or years, it doesn’t matter. Sometimes she would wake up in a sweat, reliving that moment over and over again in her head until she wanted to vomit. The panic consuming her just as it had in that moment, ever so prominent and barely diminishing in strength.

No matter how much she had tried to deny it, she felt responsible for saying yes in that moment. For getting herself into a stupid situation that she could have avoided had she just been smart enough to think of another plan. Yet, each day, each moment she had spoken those thoughts, Kakashi was there to reassure her that no man should think he could take advantage of a woman as Goro had done.

Kakashi had been a key component of her healing journey, appearing by her side and loving her in a way she never thought he would. All those months ago when she had offered her feelings to him, she never suspected that he had just been shielding her from himself. The copy ninja had is own trauma to process, yet they managed to heal together. Side by side. Along for the journey.

***

A/N: So, I'll be real here, know I said I would write this LITERALLY 4 months ago, but I didn't like how I wrote it the first three times and the I got frustrated and gave up, tbh. Which is why I haven't been back in so long because I was stuck on this fic and didn't want to give you guy something else when I promised this first. I'm like 75% content with it now, so I hope you enjoyed it.

Anyway, I hope this wasn't offensive to anyone or ignorantly written. If I, in anyway, did not describe the aftermath feelings as you feel they should be, please let me know. I hope I was able to articulate it well, despite the grim subject.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi #naruto shippuden #hatake kakashi #kakashi imagine #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi imagines #Kakashi x you #Kakashi Hatake #naruto imagines #naruto prompts

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