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sofoulandfairaday · 3 years

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The ultimate How I Met Your Mother Finale rant

I know this has been done before, and I know I'm several years late to the party, but I don't care, so IN THIS ESSAY I WILL tell you about why this finale takes the spot as the second-worst finale in TV show history (because Game of Thrones is still, to this day, unbeatable, and it will probably stay like that forever).

But first, a little context: I've just finished binge-watching HIMYM. This binge has been going on for three days straight (my final exam of the semester is in a week and I should be studying, so the fact that the last few days were a partial waste of time makes me so mad). Second thing: I already knew how it would end, and yes, kids, it does ruin the show for you. It ruins the show so much it makes your blood boil when you rewatch certain scenes, but I will get to that.

You might want to make yourself a drink because this is a complete list of all the reasons why HIMYM's finale sucks - I'm warning you, it's gonna be looong.

It completely invalidates the entirety of season 9

This is one of the complaints people most often have with this series, and I have to agree. It would have been so much better if the last two episodes never existed, and they just showed Barney and Robin dancing at the reception after walking out of the chapel, Ted noticing Tracy and then the platform scene. "And that, kids, is the story of how I met your mother". Cut scene. Honestly, I don't get the hate people give to season 9, barring the last 2/3 episodes, especially since season 8 was so much worse (except for a few honourable mentions, like The Robin). S8 was slower, less funny, and less deep, and while the authors took a risk by making s9 happen in the span of a weekend it paid off: they took their time introducing the character of the Mother to the gang and fleshing her out. They make sure to highlight all the little ways in which Ted and Tracy are perfect for each other, and even tie up loose ends, like with the Slapsgiving episode, that was a filler but it wasn't boring to watch (although it may be problematic for different reasons, I'm not Chinese, so I can't say for sure if it's cultural appropriation or just the authors making fun of a particular movie genre).

Some episodes were arguably great: "Daisy" was amazing, and that whole fight between Marshall and Lily was so realistic and well thought out, "Sunrise" was extremely important for Ted's character development, same goes for Tracy and "How Your Mother Met Me", "Bedtime stories" was impressive, "Rally" was incredibly funny and proved once again what a beautiful character Barney Stinson is, so much so that even Robin never has doubts that he (the guy with the biggest commitment issues on the planet) will bail on her before the wedding, and says to Ted that "he always comes back". Daphne's character is super funny and the right amount of annoying, the shenanigans of the gang are well thought out and all of the characters (not just Barney) complete their arc in this season. The last two/three episodes butcher that.

Marshall and Lily

Marshall and Lily, arguably the world's most solid couple, are the only thing this God-awful finale gets right, especially Marshall, who is my second-favourite character, that finally gets everything he deserves. But what about Lily? They never mention her career after Italy, and I refuse to believe she goes back to being a kindergarten teacher as if her year in Rome meant nothing. I also refuse to think she becomes nothing but a political wife, the equivalent of Zoey, but without saving the world. We know she has three kids, but her postpartum depression is never really talked about much and they definitely had the screentime to delve into it.

Barney

Where do I even begin? Barney Stinson is, without a doubt, the best character in this series, the glue of the whole gang. I think the message they were trying to give is that, since his trauma stemmed from the absence of a father figure in his life, he could only truly heal by becoming a father as well. People also say that n°31 had to stay just a number, because who could match up with Barney Stinson? First of all, I call BULSHIT on that last point, because Robin wasn't the only girl Barney could have ended up marrying. I used to think that too, but it's just not true: that is the equivalent of saying that Barney was incapable to truly love a woman and commit to her, even after all the development he got, and that he only got one shot at love in life, and that's it. This goes against the point the showrunners try to make by having Ted and Robin end up together AND by having Tracy get with Ted in the first place: "it's never too late, you always have another chance at love, etc." And, let's face it, Barney and Robin are legendary, but Barney and Nora (hell, even Barney and Quinn!) were pretty good together too.

Second of all, if they wanted to give Barney a kid, they could have easily done that, before Barney married Robin. Barney's "redemption" starts when he gets with Robin the first time, hell maybe even when we meet James for the first time: Nora, Quinn, finding out who his father is, the episode dedicated to the lies his mum told him/finding James' father, him getting to know his own dad, etc... those are all steps along the way. The s9 episode where Barney accepts the relationship between Loretta and the reverend proves how far he's come. So why not give him a daughter BEFORE he proposes to Robin? Have him cheat on Nora/Quinn with n°31, giving him a relapse, and having him get closer to Robin while struggling to be a dad to Ellie. That would have been great.

Or, you know, don't give him children. What's the point of burning the Playbook if you're going to have him write the second edition? What's the point of having him do a complete 180 in the last few scenes and acting like having a kid is the only thing that makes him change? What's the point of doing that when the show spends entire episodes berating Marshall and Lily for "changing too much" when they have a kid?

Also, Barney is the "challenge accepted" guy. He loves his wife so much, he spent years wanting her, and then he gives up because there is no WiFi in his hotel. How does that make any sense at all? This is Barney Stinson, the "I will fly out to San Francisco and buy Lily a plane ticket", the "I will steal every girl from my best friend just to save him for Lily", the guy that wrote the Playbook (it takes effort to pull those plays off), the guy that planned for weeks his proposal, the guy that waited years to get back at the man who stole his first girlfriend, the guy that makes every night legendary... are you telling me that that guy becomes the equivalent of a bored housewife instead of living his best life while travelling the world? Come on. They don't even try to make it believable.

Ted

While watching seasons 7 and 8, I felt that Ted was becoming the worst character on the show: he was boring, depressed, basically had no good storylines, the whole thing with Victoria was pointless and inconclusive (and the whole "stop being in love with Robin" was completely out of character for her), but whatever, we could have accepted that because it passed the message that two people could be good together, without being soulmates - which, by the way, renders the TedxRobin ship pointless, because they were right for each other, but Ted and Tracy were soulmates. Him being hung up on Robin in the latter seasons is almost pathetic, and the thing he does with the locket is insane, not romantic - BUT I will say this: it can be seen in two ways, depending on who's watching. I personally like the two as friends, so I see the whole thing as a "Dahmer" situation, but I get the people who see it as a "Dobler" one and see what he did as a grand romantic gesture.

The problem, though, is that the whole TedxRobin ship gets pretty old, pretty fast: it's an annoying on-and-off thing, that should have ended with the locket. Because, yes, Ted was in a dark moment, yes, he was probably depressed, yes, he thought Robin was his only shot at happiness, but he changes during season nine! He spends entire episodes letting go of Robin, including the one where she transforms into a balloon and flies away. Ted is the good guy, ultimately. He is the guy that is genuinely happy for his best friends. In one of the deleted scenes from the finale, he meets Robin years later and says that he's so happy with Tracy he never thought about Robin in that way anymore. All of that gets thrown in the trash. Why do that? To use a Harry Potter metaphor, Ted is Severus Snape, while Barney is James Potter: the former loved the girl of his dreams with all his heart, even to the point of creepiness, but they weren't meant to be together.

Robin

This, along with the next point, is the worst of all: Robin is the worst character of the entire finale. Her relationship with Ted in season 2 is wonderful, and I say that as a full-on Barney/Robin shipper. There was never a problem in their relationship, apparently, but they then break up because they have an "expiration date" and ultimately want different things in life. Except that Ted is not her soulmate. The only times when Robin wants Ted are the times where (1) she can't have him because he's either trying to move on or (2) the times where it's convenient, for example when they become roommates again and they solve their disputes again. Around that time, we see perfectly that Ted had moved on and that the person getting hurt was Barney. It's one thing to see Ted and Robin in the finale as two people picking up where they had left off after they dated. But this is not the case.

In season 7, we have the exchange that should have put an end to any and all TedxRobin drama, and that completely invalidates whatever the writers wrote after that about the two of them: Ted declares his love - "I think you know how you feel about me now. I don't think time's gonna change that. Just tell me: do you love me?" To which she answers "No". And Ted also says later to Marshall, that he's "happy because he can finally move on".

What a load of crap.

Getting over someone is hard, believe me, I would know. And, oftentimes, it doesn't happen until we find someone else to love (and from the moment he meets Tracy, there is no one else for Ted). But by giving Ted feelings for Robin after this moment, it takes away from the beauty of it- because it's one of the most heartbreaking feelings in the world when you declare your love to someone and they don't love you back. Ted and Robin were both honest at that moment, and it was the last genuinely good exchange between them. After that, during season 8 they try to show us Ted trying to get over her (and failing) and in season 9 Ted getting over her completely. This is also weirdly paced because at the beginning of s8 both are in happy relationships with other people and there's no jealousy (which is good, because at least they weren't toxic) and they seem just friends (when Robin leaves Nick to go see him in the middle of the night, she implies that she would do it for any of her friends), but after Ted breaks up with Veronica because of Robin everything is weirdly coated in this sort of tension between the two: first Ted loves her, but she doesn't, so when he helps her by taking her to Barney's proposal ("which means my best bro in the world has given me his blessing").

And, by the way, every time they try to paint Ted as the guy that comes through for Robin after this moment, they dumb down Barney's character. And still fail to make Ted a better guy than him (see: the carousel in Central Park).

Yes, Robin and Ted have some chemistry, but it is nothing compared to what Robin and Barney have. Every time Robin is jealous of Barney, it doesn't seem like a stupid whim, just because some other child is playing with her toys (except, perhaps, during The Robin). Robin and Barney's relationship would need a whole other post, and the next time I rewatch the series I will write down all the things that make them perfect for each other, but, to me, the biggest difference between the two relationships is this: in season 6, when she's not dating either one of them, Ted accuses Robin of never making him feel needed while they were together, whereas Barney praises her for it. Those are elective affinities: that's what Barney and Robin have, and what Tracy and Ted have.

Barney and Robin have more or less the same arc: they both get over their fear of commitment and they do that with each other. Time and time again, we are told that if they're ever going to settle down, it would only be with the other. The first time they break up is honestly so stupid, and even when they are broken up, they are the best of friends, which also makes Robin's behaviour in the finale look so stupid. The way the two of them fit together is unparalleled, both in a romantic and a platonic way.

Think about it: Robin makes Barney a better man, while she makes Ted a worse one.

Also, the whole point that there are different seasons in life for everything gets thrown out the window: apparently, Ted and Robin (that were a couple that ultimately worked in their young twenties) are the same people in their forties.

But that's not even the worst part. The worst part is that the two final episodes butcher Robin's arc as well: episode 23 starts with Lily saying "I want this girl to be in our lives" and we know Robin never made other friends outside of the gang, because she didn't need to, and now she walks away from everything because of fucking Ted?? This is saying "hey, Robin was only in the group for Ted, who brought her in, and now she leaves because he's not her puppy anymore". Robin was the one that was eternally indecisive between Ted and Barney and you're telling me that three years and many many life experiences later, she's still not sure?

The point of her story is learning how to get over her fear of commitment, learning how to be there for her friends (there's an entire episode dedicated to that, and it's the one where Lily's pregnant and we meet Robin's ex-best friend in Canada), and how to balance her job and her life. Also, the way her character is treated is un-feminist and un-progressive: she becomes Ted's consolation prize. She is passive throughout s9. She cannot, ultimately, win the modern-day struggle most women have and balance out career and love life, so her true life, her "happy chapter" begins after she has already accomplished everything she wanted to and she's free for Ted. She doesn't even go back to him, she just the prize the main character wanted for all his life and only got in the end because his wife died (ONE SCENE, people, ONE SCENE!). Also, this makes Tracy the "broodmare" that gives him the kids he wanted, and his "happy family" experience before he goes to be with his one true love.

The mother

This. This makes me so mad. One whole season spent on building up Tracy's character, just for it to go to waste. It would have been so easy to screw her up, but she is hands down the best thing about s9. She's the perfect woman for Ted and the episode shot through her perspective is the sweetest. By the end, I liked her more than Robin and Lily. She was the perfect addition to their group, she fit together with them in a perfect way, and they show us the biggest moment of her and Ted's life... for what? To have her die in a few sentences? And I don't care if they shot a funeral scene, I don't care if the finale was supposed to be 40 minutes long, because, in the end, it wasn't. The scene where Ted meets her is the second most beautiful one (after Barney's proposal to Robin) and the climax of the whole show, but they ruin her... and for what? The chemistry Ted has with her, he has with no one. The joy she brings him, the way she understands him, is unlike any other. I am sure that one of the reasons they killed her off was the shock value and I hate it.

I cannot stress this enough: Tracy makes Ted a better person. When he's with Robin, Ted is "the nice guy" in the most selfish and narcissistic version of the trope. When he's with Tracy, love comes easy to Ted. Also, the scenes between the two of them are arguably the best Ted scenes of the show.

The kids' reactions (ugh)

It's not really what they say- it's the way they say it. The end of HIMYM was not supposed to be funny, even though the show is a sitcom. It was supposed to be bittersweet and beautiful, because it's the end of an era, and the writers must have known that. So, Ted finishes telling his story, reveals to the audience that their now-beloved Tracy is dead, and the reaction is: "No, ahah, you totally have the hots for Aunt Robin" (their words, not mine). Like, what the actual fuck? I cringed when Penny said that. It's tasteless and not fun at all. Even if it has been six years... It's still your fucking mum, show a little bit of sadness at the thought of her.

The reason the show ended this way

What makes me especially mad is that I know for a fact that the reason they went with this ending is that it was the original one, always intended for the show, from season 2 onwards. And, if you watch it right after s2, it makes sense. But if you consider the eight years that passed and the massive character development, then no, it's not the best possible one. So many things hadn't been decided yet back in s2, especially about Barney, Ted, and Robin, and I hate that they didn't dare to scrap their work. This ending probably had sentimental meaning to the writers, but authors have to do what's best for their characters, not themselves. It's like with GoT, in a way: I think that the authors were all too aware of the impact of HIMYM and didn't believe that their finale would live up to the expectations... which compelled them to make the worst decision possible?? Every single character is OOC during the episode. Oh, and Marshall and Lily moving in the last episode is a ripoff from Friends (or maybe a tribute? Idk). Anyway, I believe that the authors were too attached to their sentimental version of "what should have been" and didn't give the characters the endings they truly deserved.

"Life works this way" // "Life only moves forward"

Some people say that the show is realistic because that's how life works. But I call super-BS on that. That might be true, and yes, people do get sick and die (Max, Marshall's dad...) and life does go on. But then, you don't frame it the way they did. It's just bad storytelling if you do it like that. And the problem is not the structure of season 9, because the characters develop in that season. The problem isn't even the mother's death. The problem is Ted ending up with Robin because that's not life moving forward for him, that's him, doing the same thing he did in 2005, 25 (twenty-fucking-five) years before!

In conclusion, this finale is incoherent and inconclusive, and not satisfying at all. The only character that gets a good ending is Marshall: why is that? What makes his ending great? It's the fact that his character arc is respected and he finally gets what he's been working towards for more than ten years.

#himym #how i met your mother #how i met your mother spoilers #how i met your mother finale #09x23 #09x24 #robin sherbatsky #ted mosby #tracy mcconnell #barney stinson #marshall eriksen #lily aldrin #swarkles #ted x robin #ted x tracy #barney x robin #a rant #the blue french hor #the yellow umbrella

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Reveries of turmoil

Yandere!Childe x fatui!reader

[Previous chapter]

Just as you predicted that short and stifled conversation was a portent of future changes. Childe stopped trying to talk to you outside the business, he even avoided your eyes in those rare moments when you looked at him first. Normally obnoxious and persistent Harbinger seemed to deflate in your presence, as his swaggering and blustering attitude disappeared within mere moments.

You would be overjoyed for this turn of events, if you didn’t have any experience of dealing with and tolerating Tartaglia. Childe, as you already established, is a chaos personified, an erratic whirlwind that twists and ruins everything in its way wrapped in human skin and caged by human bones. It wouldn’t be a surprise if some nasty complications arose out of this faux armistice and sneaked upon your unsuspecting self.

Ajax wont do anything drastic, you reassure yourself - the Rite of Descension gets closer and closer with each passing day, he just can't afford to fail this, meaning that he will have to keep you on-field. It would be logical to do so, let you work, but logical sometimes means predictable and nothing about Ajax is predictable.

Fortunately he continued to keep this strange distance as days passed. Was your little episode and words you said to him enough to stop him in his pursuit? Maybe it truly hurt him, maybe it made him see how miserable he was making you, maybe his obsession with you ceased to exist, it’s flames fizzling and going out just as fast as they ignited. You doubt all of it, yet continue to hope for the better, despite the evidence of the opposite shoved in your face.

Ajax will never let go of you, not in the way you want. He killed and tortured people right before your eyes, sometimes had you assist him in doing so. Most of the time this was done in Tsaritsa’s name, for the future of Snezhnaya and her people, just another working assignment regardless of the blood curdling screams and alien agony.

However, in some rare cases the torment of others isn’t something that is totally impersonal to you, sometimes you’re the main cause. Childe is possessive, terribly so. He watches over you like a dragon guarding his gold, scaring away other possible admirers. And if his title and reputation wasn’t enough to keep away whatever poor sod who decided to tempt the dragon, well, other way more grim methods were used.

You never personally witnessed these kinds of torture, but you heard rumours and sometimes saw the bodies after, images that keep reappearing in your nightmares. Maybe this lull is nothing but a quiet before the storm, a short breather after he commits some unforgettable atrocity again.

He personally summons you the day before the Descension. You brace yourself for incoming nonsense, except nothing comes. “Agent [Last]”, he says, his voice tense and restrained.”I need you to attend the Rite of Descension with me. You will be disguised as a civilian", and then he dismisses you, no hint of mind games he likes to play in sight.

You want to hope that he changed, you succeed and fail at the same time - this new Ajax is pleasant, he’s cold and disinterested, just like any boss should be, yet you just can’t relax and focus wholly on doing the job - it’s a privilege only those who haven’t met Tartaglia can afford.

He’s a sea, treacherous and ever changing, calm and serene in one moment, yet violent and crushing in the other.

You spend the day torn between the anxious thoughts of Tartaglia and what he might do and the preparation for upcoming ceremony - it's a once in a lifetime event, it's Tsaritsa’s will and hope, it's Ajax’s eyes focused on you. You can’t afford to fail, you have no right to do so.

Wearing a simple Snezhnayan overcoat with nothing hiding your face is surely strange after years of donning a fatui uniform. Tourists and Liyuens alike pass by, not paying you any attention. Both vision and delusion glow under the thick fabric, asking you to use them.

You walk faster.

The top of the Yujing Terrace is lit with sunlight and full of human sounds, as merchants and other workers haste to finish their tasks and join the people at the top. You look around, quickly noticing the familiar ginger - he stays half-turned to you, his eyes focused on the figure of Tianquan. You quickly avert your gaze, as if not recognizing him, and shift it towards other people - you spot two vision holders among the crowd too - an electro and geo one, and a strange person cladded in the exotic clothes with some sort of flying fairy(?) floating around.

You walk to the altar placing Liyuen flowers nearby the multiple offerings of food, wine and gold, their simple white petals contrasting against the gaudy luxury of the rest.

"Qingxin flowers?", someone suddenly says, a speck of genuine surprise evident in the phrase. Their voice is too close for your comfort - you quickly turn on the heels, alarmed by a person somehow sneaking up on you only to be met with a pair of the golden eyes.

It’s a nicely dressed Liyuen gentleman, with the air of wisdom and elegance surrounding him, an inner dignity shining from beneath, and most importantly the one you saw wearing a vision at the back of the coat. You try to look as calm as possible, despite the senses telling you otherwise - after years of service any vision holder unadorned by the Fatui colors is perceived as a threat.

“Yes, it is”, you quip back, not wanting to look suspicious: “Is this improper? Qingxin as an offering?”, you mimic a light concern - something that would be appropriate for the foreign merchant who might have offended the god of commerce.

“No, not at all”, Liyuen laughs: “just in all of my years, I have never seen anyone offer these flowers”.

“Huh”, you smile, looking at the man before you. Is he a simple liyuen you thought of him at first? He has Geo vision - the symbol of Archaic Lord’s recognition - and the way he said “all of my years” carry more weight than usual, a mark of something hidden beneath the mundane phrase.

“Something tells me, you must have attended every rite of Descension”, you continue, the starter vague and innocent enough - a perfect way to fish out more information. For some reason, his golden eyes widen a bit, it’s subtle and quick enough to go unnoticed by most people, but you’re not the most people - all Fatui agents are trained to catch even the smallest changes and educated in multiple fields, physiognomy included.

What could have caused such a reaction and why did he react the way he did? The Rite of Descension is a prominent event in the life of every Liyuen, even if it’s annual, as thousands of thousands of people traverse great distances to see their god fly down from the heavens and grace his subjects with the wisdom of countless years. You remember seeing Liyuens living in Snezhnaya consistently take a leave every year for a week, when the prominent date showed on the horizon, missing working days and no doubt a lot of nerves, only to see the archon of their homeland.

So why did that man looks so surprised?

“You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?”, he responds, voice calm and pleasant, despite the masterfully hidden surprise: “And yes, I have always tried my best to be at every Rite to this day. Rex Lapis shares his experience with his people, so it’s an incredibly important day. And what about you? What brings a foreigner here?”, he makes a gesture at your obviously snezhnayan clothes.

“Well, I am a travelling merchant as you can see”, you raise your hands, showing him more of the coat: “Having blessing from the God of Commerce won't hurt, right?". He, again, reacts in the way you haven't anticipated, a handsome face adopting a contemplating expression for a short second.

"Rex Lapis rewards diligent people, work hard and he shall bless you too", he says with an air of wisdom around him, like an old enlightened monk passing his knowledge to the disciples surrounding him: "And you shouldn't keep your vision beneath the layers of cloth. I feel its chill just standing here, who knows what it will do to your body?".

Then he simply turns away and goes to the exit of Yujing terrace, and it’s your turn to suppress the rising agitation - how did he know, where’s he heading now?

“Wait”, you say: “why are you leaving?”

“I dedicated my whole life to my job, which consists of a collection of small and incredibly repetitive tasks, they took up most of my attention and I slowly, but surely became a creature of habit, deaf and blind outside its limited field of experience and comfort zone. Time never stops, so I decided to leave the work I’ve been entrusted with, and I want to start it by breaking my strongest habit - religiously attending every Rite of Descension”.

“Ah”, you reply, equally impressed by his speech, and feeling that you are talking about two completely different and unrelated topics: “well, good luck on that”.

More and more people flood the terrace as one of the main threats to your plans finally arrives - stern and ambitious, Ningguang looks as elegant and intimidating as ever, geo vision and the tassel attached to it, shaking with every graceful step. She throws a short glance at Tartaglia - he stands surrounded by the rest of the agents - yet her face doesn’t change even a bit, whatever hostility she may hold for your faction masterfully suppressed.

You quickly look around - tourists and citizens arrive at the last minutes and milleliths come with them. Soon, all of the exits are heavily guarded by at least four soldiers, all carrying spears and clad in armour - surely a necessary precaution, given the presence of Fatui and their Harbinger.

There are no milleliths among the crowd though, not in the on-duty uniform at least. You study the group again, this time looking for anyone with weapons, as someone lightly pushes you away - it’s that foreigner again. “I am sorry, we need to go closer”, the pixie-like creature apologizes, as it flies after the stranger, and you conclude that there are no armed people, except you, Tartaglia, milleliths, Ningguang and that strange person.

“The hour is upon us”, Tianquan starts, after looking at the bright sun above, two women around her slightly bowing down, as she invokes the power of geo. The gold glow surrounds and illuminates her whole figure, before condensing into hard rocks of the same shade. They shine and fly around her for a bit, leaving the yellow trails behind before starting to spin around the shrine in the middle of the rock table.

Soon the golden inscriptions on the shrine start to glow too, before it sends a bright orange beam into the blue sky. The crowd "Oh!"s and "Ah!"s as the clouds deform around the pillar of light.

Tension, so thick it can be tasted, descends in the waves upon the Terrace as some - carefree and ignorant - hold their breaths in excitement and anticipation, whilst the rest focus in caution - Fatui and Qingxin alike. You shift, taking out both vision and delusion out of your coat, as your eyes frantically shift between Tianquan, Tartaglia and the spiraling clouds above, your whole being ready to aid Childe in his mission.

And then something unexpected happens: a majestic dragon does descend to his people. By falling straight to the ground. Serpentine body slumps around the crushed offerings, elongated tongue escaping the confines of the maw.

A long second of absolute silence passes before Ningguang collects herself, checks the body and orders milleliths to close off all the exits, as the crowd erupts into turmoil and chaos realizing what exactly has happened. You disguise amongst the panicking masses, hiding two glowing orbs in the deep pockets of your coat,before looking at Tartaglia again - he in turn intently stares at the blonde foreigner, who quite clumsily tries to sneak past the soldiers.

Milleliths catch onto that running after the stranger and you use this opportunity, turning invisible in the same second. People around you are too panicked to question your sudden disappearance or the unnaturally cold breeze swaying past them, as you make your way - Childe has already departed, chasing after the group of soldiers, and Ningguang is seen leaving too, giving the last orders, before turning to the Yuehai pavillion.

You contemplate for a second, unsure what to do - Tartaglia has ordered you to aid him in case of Qixing intervention, there was nothing about the death of your target and the glimpse into Tianquan’s actions might be a key to solving the mystery of said departure. The thing that you plan to do is opportunistic, reckless even - who would have known that Ajax will rub off onto you? You chase after Ningguang, careful to keep yourself invisible.

Who is Rex Lapis’ murderer?

She goes up to the aged man standing at the stairs of the pavilion, they exchange a couple of words before Ningguang steps up on the little floating island and it starts to levitate! You run after her, still unsure what to do - the platform is too small, Tianquan will no doubt feel the chill coming from you, but the opportunity to learn what Qixing are planning is too good to miss.

In the end, you come to compromise, jumping after the rising platform, as your hands clutch into its rough protrusions and you grit your teeth, enduring the pain and cold from the vision overuse. The little island rises higher and higher, as people and buildings underneath turn into small dots. Your fingers start to slide off a couple of times, yet you grab onto the island with a renewed strength everytime that happens, asking Tsaritsa to let fortune favour you.

The platform finally stops moving, and you pull up, once you hear her heels clicking away.

Jade chamber, as it turns out, exceeds all rumours, luxurious and opulent, shining above the prosperous city, it glows under the sunlight with a golden radiance. You would have stopped to admire it if it wasn’t for your goal. You sneak after Ningguang, following her to the office as she takes out papers and folders from the shelves. She focuses on them, as you carefully step near her, glancing at what she’s reading - it’s reports of fatui activity throughout the months, leading to this day, thankfully vague and very far from reality.

Does it mean that she also has no idea of what or who caused Rex Lapis’ death and tries to find his killer? Or does it mean that she looks for a way to deduct Fatui's next actions?

You don’t have time to contemplate, as the frost worsens and you feel cryo energy exhausting from the overuse - one more minute and you’ll become visible. You quickly walk away - you don’t have enough time to reach that platform, so you do the most logical thing - fling yourself out of the window, opening the wings of the glider halfway the jump.

You push the most of your invisibility, letting go of the cryo powers once you're only a couple of meters above the ground. In the end you find yourself tired and frozen to the very bones, slowly coming back to the Northland bank.

***

You approach the building as the Sun begins to set - its pink-orange rays dying everything in the warm glow. The bank looks glorious like that, sinking in the reddish tones, it looks like an illustration out of children’s books - a place of something miraculous, a place of something hopeful.

“Hi”, you throw to the tired Vlad and he nods, after suppressing an escaping yawn: “Is boss here?”

“Yeah”, he croaks, drowsiness evident in his speech: “came back like an hour or two ago. Can’t really remember”.

“Huh.. Well, thanks”, and with these words you enter the bank, pushing the doors and preparing yourself for the confrontation to come.

After chatting with Ekaterina and confirming that yes, he is in his office, you head for the staircase, all of the information you learned today buzzing inside your head.

Childe sits, hunched over the papers, as you enter, not paying you even the sliver of attention. For some reason he’s in a different clothes.

“Eleventh Harbinger”, you start the standard greeting, all formal and stiff: “this subordinate has finished the task”.

This finally prompts him to raise his head, cold blue eyes look at you, no hint of the usual obsessiveness in sight: "you may speak, agent" he succinctly says, putting the writing feather aside. You quickly report to him all you have seen today, without your own thoughts involved - they’re just baseless theories, after all.

“So you say, Tianquan was reading the reports about Fatui activity. Haven’t you destroyed those reports earlier?”

“Those papers contained nothing about the current situation, they were actually far from reality, I doubt that any of those reports survived the fire”.

“Seems, I’ll have to take your word for it”, a sigh, he leans closer in his seat, propping left cheek on the palm: “Why did Tianquan look at them? What was she trying to do? Pin her crime on us?”, he glances at you again, gesturing that you can speak your mind and you do.

“Highly unlikely, sir. From the short time I spent watching her and her reputation, I have an impression that Qixing Tianquan is a person who prefers to plan her every action. If she or any other Qixing higher up, were the one who murdered our target, then every needed preparation would be done months, if not even years in advance. She would somehow cast us as the killers right at the ceremony, in front of thousands of Liyuens, making us a scapegoat for public outrage and creating alibi for herself”.

“So, that’s how you think”, he hums, blue eyes deep in thought: “Your entire conclusion is based on the mere impression. With Tianquan’s ambition I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one behind this...”, a vague hand gesture: “catastrophic situation”.

“When I sneaked inside the Jade chamber, she looked very frantic, it didn’t show on her face, but her movements were harsh and quick, lacking any of her elegance. She looked like she tried to keep herself together”.

“Anyone would try to do that, especially after killing a god”, he looks somewhere to the left, no doubt imagining battling the dead archon: “Well, my conclusion isn’t based on anything solid either. We don’t know who killed Rex Lapis, but we still need to somehow obtain his gnosis”, the last part isn’t addressed directly to you, it seems that Ajax just decided to voice out his worries.

“You can go”, he says, standing up from the table. You are touching the door handle, when you hear him asking:”what’s with your hand?”. The tone is nothing like that time, yet shivers still go up your spine when you remember what happened that day.

"Frostbite, from my vision", he comes closer to you, hand outstretched to yours: “Can I?”, he asks and waits for your faint nod, before gently pulling it closer to his face.

“It’s a second degree”, he mumbles, inspecting the white-blue discolorations and small angry blisters - the skin throbs and aches at his touch, yet most of it remains numb, muffled, like sounds underwater: “You should get it treated”.

“I should”, you agree, eager to leave this room and situation: “I will ask medics for some..”

“I already discharged them”, his hand suddenly shifts, now resting atop of the door handle, his frame suddenly looming over you: “I have a medkit here, with the ointments and balms. Maybe you should stay here and let me patch you up?”

Why did you even think that Childe could change?

***

Ajax has you sitting on his chair, with sleeves rolled up to the very elbows, as he frets around you - checking the temperature, pulling the warm water closer to you and taking out needed medicine out of the kit. It’s mostly silent, except the tune he quietly hums - Childe looks peaceful and content like this, maybe he likes caring for you.

“Does it hurt?”, he takes a discolored finger, probing around the blister, as the warm hydro energy engulfs your damaged hand. The burst of sensation explodes at this action - pain, tingling, throbbing, even relief.

“Bearable”.

“Understood”, Childe gets back to his task, continuing to rewarm your hands, still humming that tune as he does so. He takes out the healing ointment, when the healthy color and warmth returns to your limbs and spreads it on the skin, bitter herbal scent filling the room in an instant.

“[First]”, he says, as he rubs the place between the index and middle fingers: “I think we need to talk. About that day and your reaction”.

“And what about it?”, you respond, too quickly and snappy for the calm-facade - the memories of that day, of what you thought he will do to you, of how he witnessed you falling apart - all of these are too much, a maelstrom of conflicted feelings rising every time your thoughts stray to this topic. He finishes applying the balm and now switches to the bandanges, wrapping treated hands in them.

“Don’t you think you treat me too harshly, [First]? I understand I may have been… unpleasant in the Past, but I thought we moved past that. What have I done to warrant such ire?”, he says it with his usual smile, but there's a tense, heavy tinge in his words. It’s subtle enough to miss, but you knew Ajax since you both were fourteen, so the strain doesn’t go unnoticed.

Everything, you want to coldly respond, but you stop yourself again - Ajax is still a Harbinger, even if he trailed your steps at the training camp like an overeager and highly murderous puppy not even a decade ago, no matter your own feelings or sentiments or even experiences he still holds that power over you, whether he realizes it or not.

“There were.. things”, broken bones, coppery scent of blood, someone else screams: “training with you wasn’t pleasant for sure”. Childe laughs at the last part, yet the tension clouding in the air doesn’t dissipate, turning more tangible instead.

“I see”, a long pause: “I want to prove you're wrong, I want to prove you that I will never do something against your will”.

You already did. You stay silent at that, anger and fury and frustration boiling underneath, burning and scorching your insides like a magma moments before the eruption. His hands finally wrap the last layer of bandage, tying the ends into a neat little bow, yet he doesn’t let your palm out of your hold, as his lips hover over it, breath burning the skin even through the fabric. And then he releases it, not doing anything.

“Good luck with that”, you finally suppress the inner storm, and stand up from the chair, quickly heading to the door. The place where he almost kissed your tingles and throbs with a renewed strength. Your cheeks burn for some reason.

#Yandere Genshin impact #Yandere genshin #Yandere Childe #yandere genshin x reader #Yandere tartaglia #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere childe x reader #male yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #my writing

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spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me.

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing.

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it.

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around.

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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sugar-petals · 3 years

Note

Hi Caro!! How are you doing? Hope everything is okay :)) So I’m starting to get into figure skating and was wondering if you could recommend some performances, like you favourite ones etc... also could you name some skaters if it’s not too much to ask (i know you talk a lot about Yuzuru), i truly wanted to know more about it. thanks in advance✨

i’ll serve you a whole buffet, get ready. joining at the right time! we’re off-season and the olympics are way to go so you can catch up without missing out on any events, and there’s a lot you can indulge with.

get into FIGURE SKATING: the in-depth guide

wanna know who’s who?

key skater introductions, the masterpost (bonus: meme threads)

6 breakthrough moments of famous male competitors on video

top 10 most successful female skaters

retired legends! their last big performance 2010-2020

so who’s up there in the points, who to watch for, who’s active, who are the best of the best?

official, current world standings LADIES | GENTS | PAIRS

how to prepare for the winter season?

skating competitions calendar 2021 (more bite-sized than usual, a lot is cancelled)

want to tell apart the 6 essential jumps?

lutz VS loop VS axel VS toe loop VS flip VS salchow

more jump explanations, beginner’s guide

how yuzuru jumps more than just textbook quads: all 6 analysed

who landed the quadruple jump first? ladies/gents compilation

nathan chen, god of all quads

why achieving the quad axel is shaking the community since years

first ever quad axel attempt in competition: artur dmitriev

are quintuple jumps possible?

quads are killing artistry debate — too much technique, while creativity and feeling aren’t scored enough

rare and unusual jumps: complete insanity combos

history-making jumps

the key jump: triple axels in ladies’ skating

quads in ladies’ skating

what about other elements? learning movements by video and by skater without just reading about them:

fantastic moves that skaters are know for

more elements that skaters perfected and made their own

more famous signature moves/the ’personal touch’ (crack editing)

elements named after a person

physics behind spins

highest scored ladies’ spins

pair skating elements

ice dance lifts

banned elements

scoring explained! the base value and GOE (grade of execution) mark

what went down in prior olympics in singles and pairs?

sochi 2014 best of videos

pyeongchang 2018 best of

the king: all world class olympic yuzu routines

the queen: yuna kim’s olympic programme stunners

who are the game changers?

highest olympic scores ever moments

surya bonaly’s groundbreaking backflip!

all yuzuru world records compilation (time to cry)

completely bonkers gala performances aka non-competitive skating where most rules don’t apply lmao, props and all!

must-know medallists

fantastic moments in ladies’ skating

yuzuru dedicates first olympic gold to his tsunami-struck hometown and country

top 10 black figure skaters — historic and recent

yuzu’s legendary costume reel

heart-wrenching moments 😪

more emotional stuff that went down

and now, what programmes are the talk of the town?

nathan wins the 2021 world championship with a firework of clean jumps

“the performance of his life from the best skater of all history”: yuzuru dishes on let me entertain you donning all black and landing a murderous triple axel on the beat

alina zagitova wins ladies’ gold dressed in my fave red costume ever, amazing storytelling, not a single fall, at only 15 years of age

my recent favorite: impossibly beautiful ballet on ice — mikhail kolyada’s art and precision are indescribable

“the king of silver” — shoma uno beautifully wins 2nd place at the olympics!

the tears. pair olympic gold, savchenko and massot, my fellow germans. obv has to be on here.

every yuzu performance is the talk of the town. 80-video playlist with gems to pick from 2008-2021

and now... the retired GOAT among the ladies! yuna kim’s charismatic send in the clowns. she is art.

what are the dominant teams?

team usa introduce themselves

different camps of team russia

bonus: watch team japan gala skate

things to warn you about — what controversies, tws, and shadow sides to brace for. you don’t have to read in depth if not comfortable, just know what goes on and what you might have to stay clear from:

the 2018 murder of kazakh skater denis ten

the 2019 case of john coughlin: sexual abuse in pair skating

gay figure skaters facing homophobia: the adam rippon VS mike pence incident (which becomes further complicated by adam rippon’s racist and misogynist comments on other occasions)

yuzuru talking about suriving the japan 2011 earthquake

yuzuru’s graphic 2014 crash with han yan, slow medical teams on the ice, nasty injuries, almost-concussion

yuzuru on his asthma attacks 😔

the lutz jump causing issues (underrotations, flutzing, mis-judgings)

the endless story of judges underscoring yuzuru

creating enemies/rivalries between friends

international skating union’s bs, politics, yuna kim’s robbed of olympic gold scandal

risk rewarded over art

harrowing accidents, the sport is extremely dangerous esp in pairs (tw)

extra toxic mess that needs to be addressed: russian coach eteri’s cruel methods (youth cult, instrumentalizing underage skaters, abuse, nationalism)

why are there so few black skaters?

skaters pressured to come out

likely known to you, the kerrigan VS harding attack

yuzuru’s fans bordering obsession, death threats

sportsmanship DOs and DONTs that occurred

more essentials about yuzu’s team?

check out yuzuru’s coach: olympic silver medalist, brian orser!

tour of his training grounds: toronto cricket club

yuzu’s rituals and winnie pooh

wanna have a laugh?

hilarious crack of famous skaters, turn down volume (medals that look like paper, wrong anthems played, spanish skater javier fernandez skates as superman)

funny moments on the podium/award ceremony

skaters multilingual moments! one big international family. ❤️

hockey players try to keep up with skaters

yuzuru is a flippin ice diva

stages of yuzu costume reveals

yuzu said let me entertain you and so he did!

skaters fooling around

skating artist pranks rink in an old man costume doing a wild backflip

#shyning-star #ask #cub mail 🐆#figure skating #fs #the header gif is shoma uno by the way #figure skating introduction

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script-nef · 3 years

Text

#bokutoisblessed | Bokuto Koutarou

Category: crack, fluff

2.2k words; MSBY fans dying over Bokuto and his family

Bokuto uploaded another photo

It seems like just yesterday little Hana was swaddled in his arms and now look at her. Like. Holy [censored] look at the [censored] post.

Dudes like. She can walk now. Her steps are so wobbly but also so cute and my heart like????? Just exploded when we were gifted with the sight of her??? AND THE WAY SHE GIGGLED WHEN SHE ARRIVED AT HER MUM’S LAP A SAFJAKFDL I CAN’T BREATHE

Comments [Anon]: Honestly we the fans of Black Jackals are so blessed because we get to experience this joy and bundle of life thanks to our lord and saviour Bokuto Koutarou and his amazing wife, who will hereby be named Kami-sama. Because God is a woman I called it.

[Anon]: I agree with 97% of this, except for the Kami-sama part. She said it’s uncomfortable and embarrassing so we have to call her something else. How about Wife-sama. That should be fine, right?

[Anon]: Oh I saw that post Bokuto put up! Saying how much he’s thankful for the support but not to call her that! The upload was a short video of her turning red after he called her Kami-sama and it’s a treasure I will keep for the rest of my life. And into the afterlife. Death can try to pull it out of my cold, dead hand but I won’t let it. YOU HEAR ME DEATH???? YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS FROM MEEEEEE

[Anon]: Bokuto said Wife-sama is fine! Apparently she was still red and it was the cutest thing ever. Bokuto is so biased (*cough cough* whipped *cough cough*) but hey I’m not complaining. I don’t think my imagination will ever come close to the actual reaction but I hope it does.

[Anon]: Do you guys remember, when he just started dating her, how he flooded us with posts of her and her only? Like, practically 95% of my feed was her since he was putting so much of them up. She could literally be doing nothing and he’ll be like “HOLY [censored] LOOK AT MY GIRLFRIEND!!!” Without swearing because he doesn’t do that, but still.

[Anon]: OH AND THEN HE GOT INTO TROUBLE WITH HIS SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER ASKJDSKDJF THAT WAS GOLD

[Anon]: THEY LITERALLY PUT A VIDEO UP OF THEM TRYING TO TELL BOKUTO WHY HE SHOULDN’T DO THAT AND HE CONSTANTLY SAID “BUT I’M DATING HER AND THIS IS MY WAY OF SAYING I LOVE HER!!” LIKE BOI WE GET IT EVEN ALIENS WILL GET IT

[Anon]: And it started up again when she was pregnant with Hana. Like I could make a time-lapse video or whatever of her pregnancy just from the photos he put up

[Anon]: I honestly wonder how many photos he has of her and Hana

[Anon]: Probably a couple thousand. I mean like, I have a couple thousand of MBSY members but my love for them pales in front of Bokuto for Wife-sama, so.

→ Continue thread

Holy [censored] I just met Bokuto

Okay so there was news about a new resident coming into our apartment, more specifically my neighbouring unit. It was previously occupied by this really old couple and we had this small farewell party. They dropped hints that the new residents might be kind of loud but that they were great.

A few days later, my doorbell rings and who do I see? It’s [censored] Bokuto. Like, straight up. In his casual clothes. Exactly the same as the photo on his Insta page where he said he was moving. Which I liked practically a few hours ago.

He was standing there with the biggest smile and saying that he’s the new resident and that they’re giving out homemade cookies because of the baby and Bokuto’s volume. And invited me to a small dinner. And I’m. Like my brain. Literally. Like my brain is even blank now. Bokuto. Invited me. To his house. So I could have dinner. And see his wife. And little Hana.

So I am here now, raiding my wardrobe to see if I have anything wearable because HOLY [censored] [censored] [censored] I’M GOING TO HAVE DINNER WITH BOKUTO AND HIS FAMILY I’LL REPORT BACK LATER IF HE’S FINE WITH ME SHARING THIS EXPERIENCE OKAY I REALLY GOTTA GO BECAUSE MY HEART IS BEATING WAY TOO FAST AND I NEED TO HAVE SOME MEDICINE

[Edit]: This was riddled with spelling mistakes because my hands were shaking from the aftershock.

Comments [Anon]: ???? What did you do in your past life to be awarded the opportunity of being neighbours with Bokuto???? Did you like, save the country or something? Is that what it takes to be blessed with him?

[Anon]: No you gotta at least save the entire Earth for this damn dude thanks for your service I guess

[Anon]: But if you gotta save the world to be neighbours with Bokuto, then what the hell did Wife-sama do to be married to him?

[Anon]: She saved the universe

[Anon]: But I think Bokuto will be the one to say he saved the universe to be with her that cheesy dork ugh I love you

[Anon]: LMAO I CAN HEAR HIM SCREAMING THAT

[Anon]: Are you back yet? Are you alive? Are you blinded by the magnificence that is Bokuto Koutarou and his family? I know I would be. So in order to kill me as well, TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED YOU CAN’T KEEP US OUT LIKE THIS I AM KNEELING ON THE FLOOR AND BEGGING FOR THE INTERACTION PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I BEG OF THEE I WANT SOME MORE SIR

[OP]: That’s really weird so stop that. I’m just about to go out now! I’ll spend the dinner over there, experience heaven, hope I don’t die of heart failure and possibly come back with a war story. If they allow me. Wish me luck guys.

[Anon]: GO BRAVELY SOLDIER AND MAKE US PROUD I AM PRAYING THAT THEY’LL BE KIND ENOUGH TO LET YOU SHARE THIS WONDERFUL EXPERIENCE

I’M BACK

Okay so that could only be described as one of the best moments in my entire life. Don’t worry, they said it’s fine if I share this. #actualsaints

So I finally found an outfit and took the chocolate that I was saving for myself, but since I can give my arm and leg for Bokuto what the [censored] is a chocolate, right?

I’m greeted by Wife-sama herself. Like. Less than a metre from me, saying “good afternoon” and smiling like the saint of tranquillity. (A side note but how do you have that when you live with Bokuto? And a child? My brother wants to know your secrets.) And she’s wearing what I think is Bokuto’s shirt since it’s way too big for her, I mean the end comes to her thighs. Sharing shirts is the most romantic thing a couple can do I don’t make the rules I’m just the messenger.

Anyway she invites me into their house, their amazingly aesthetical and cozy house. There’s a display case for all of Bokuto’s trophies, awards, certificates and everything. There are photographs of them together all over the walls, hung from strings spanning the entire house. There was a wall section dedicated entirely to Hana-chan. I felt like an uncivilised cave gremlin there.

Wife-sama was still making dinner and I was going to help her but little Hana-chan came to me. Like, she tottered over to me in the blue frilly dresses and tugged on my pants, babbling and smiling. Y’all I nearly died. I literally saw the gates of heaven and had a foot in but Wife-sama saved me by pulling me back into reality. By asking me if I wanted to play with Hana-chan. Which killed me again. And she was apologetic about it too? Like she doesn’t think I would give my kidney to spend time with her?

So I was playing with Hana but sneakily looking at the two of them being cute as hell in the kitchen. Bokuto was attached to her at the hip for the whole time except for when she asked him to get some ingredients. He was a puppy incarnate. They were sneaking kisses, whispering to each other and it was honestly so cute like I was getting diabetes just from one night.

The food was amazing, the dinner talk was so fun and delightful, Hana-chan was the cutest little angel ever, this was probably the best day of my life. AND WHEN I LEFT FOR THE NIGHT, THEY BOTH HUGGED ME AND IT WAS LIKE BEING HUGGED BY CLOUDS BUT THEY SMELLED SO NICE!!

I shall never forget this day. Mark my words y’all.

Comments [Anon]: How beautiful was their place? I feel like she would go with a pastel tone or black and white. And have cute things littered around everywhere.

[OP]: The house was really unique in the sense that it felt like two houses smashed together. Like they took turns decorating each section of the house. Looked like polar opposites. It was kind of weird at first but the aesthetics flowed well the longer I stayed there, if you can understand what I’m saying.

[Anon]: The fact that Bokuto and Wife-sama are practically opposites in many things but still formed a romantic relationship with each other and the fact that their taste or preferences complement each other perfectly is proof that they are soulmates. In this essay I will

[Anon]: Where’s the essay. Dude where’s the [censored] essay

[Anon]: HEY MAN COME BACK WHERE’S MY ESSAY

[Anon]: NOOOOOOOOOOO THE SACRED TEXTS

[Anon]: Bruh just a kidney? Take my [censored] liver. Take my heart. Oh no wait, she already has it in her squishy widdle hands.

[Anon]: I bid my left arm

[Anon]: Right arm

[Anon]: Lungs

[Anon]: I really love my brain but I barely use it so off it goes I guess

[OP]: ???? Guys? What are you doing? Stop this illegal organ trade in my post.

[Anon]: Shhhhh we’re showing our love

I saw Bokuto shopping and it was so cute

I do not do clickbait, it was genuinely adorable and my cheeks are about to fall off. As was everyone else’s in the entire mall.

I was just doing some shopping, getting some snacks and popcorn for the movie marathon I was going to have and who do I hear? Yeah, it’s Bokuto. And little Hana-chan whining to Wife-sama about how she’s not getting the snacks they want. It’s from memory since I didn’t take a video, I’m not a creep and I understand boundaries unlike some of you assholes, but it went something like this.

Bokuto: But think of all the caramel popcorn we could eat! Hana: Mama, sweeties. Sweeties. (What an angel, am I right?) Wife-sama: I already said no, it’s going to ruin your dinner. Hana: But it’s tasty! Bokuto: Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase? I’ll do all of the dishes and cleaning today! Wife-sama: You already do that every day, Kou. It’s not much of a bribe. (Husband goals) And Hana, we have other snacks at home. Caramel is bad for your teeth. Bokuto: But babe! Wife-sama: I said no, and that’s it. Hana: Mama!

It was just this repeated for like 10 minutes with Bokuto and Hana-chan alternating their whines. I would have snapped after 5 times but wow, this lady has the mental fortitude of Fort Knox.

They both sulked and followed her around as she finished her shopping. I can tell Hana is Bokuto’s daughter because her hair droops down like his and a cloud forms over her head. It was practically magic.

In the end, they bought one (1) salted caramel popcorn because Wife-sama is too soft-hearted and they literally clung onto her for 5 minutes peppering her with kisses. And Bokuto actually lifted her in his embrace. In the middle of the sweets section. Where everyone was looking.

Needless to say, she was very very red.

Comments [Anon]: Conspiracy theory: factoring in Bokuto’s godlike physical ability, inhumane and endless sunny disposition, his hair’s ability to reflect his moods, it can be concluded that Bokuto is, in fact, a God.

[Anon]: Well someone has a big brain

[Anon]: Wait then Wife-sama would be a Goddess. Gasp SHE DIDN’T WANT PEOPLE CALLING HER KAMI-SAMA BECAUSE IT WOULD BLOW HER COVER

[Anon]: Oh yeah, it’s all coming together

[Anon]: I can kind of see Bokuto and Hana sneaking in sweets and snacks into the trolley while Wife-sama isn’t looking lmao

[OP]: THEY ACTUALLY DID THAT I nearly ran into them again and heard her berating Bokuto for sneaking in chocolate and shoving it beneath all the meat so she wouldn’t notice. My man, please. You can never outsmart your wife.

[Anon]: Next time I go to the MSBY fan meeting, I’m bringing all the sweets I can for Bokuto and Hana. It’s the least I can do.

[Anon]: They’re so cute and I can’t wait for the MSBY match in three days where Bokuto’s family is going to attend. I promise I’ll post about it afterwards.

#bokuto x reader #bokuto imagine #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu!! one shot #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#bokuto #bokuto koutarou #SNS format #crack #fluff #female reader

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restapesta · 3 years

Text

gossip never ends

Mickey Milkovich simply just showed up one day at the Old Army, tattoos on his knuckles and a scowl on his face. Lola couldn't help but be intrigued -- nobody lasts here long enough to pique her interest, but there was something special about this guy. The gossip spreads like wildfire, but Mickey's something else altogether -- it's just a matter of time before Lola and her friends figured out why.

OR: How Mickey's coworkers found out about who Mickey really was back in season 10 -- this is more of an outlook on Mickey and his feelings throughout season 10 and how it reflected on his job and altogether his demeanor.

This is based on a prompt by @whatwouldmickeydo which was also even more explored by one of my favorite Gallavich accounts on Tumblr @ianandmickeygallavich -- so, I simply just worked through what they had already created. I hope they don't mind I used their prompt and this is dedicated to both of them! Enjoy!

words: 5.3k

The gossip began almost the exact moment Mickey was introduced to the three workers by the manager.

The Old Army staff was not a stranger to new workers coming and going, some people sticking around longer, working for a couple of months without stop, maybe even sticking around for a full-time position; some just passing through while on trial-basis, failing to meet the manager's demands and simply moving on to find better or more fitting employment -- but the sight of Mickey Milkovich was definitely not something, Lola thought, anybody, not just the curious employees, was used to.

Lola fell into the group of people who had been working at the store for ages now, starting years ago and still sticking around now, subsequently being present for all the biggest changes made to and within the popular store. She saw the interior change, the managers shift, the employees getting hired and fired -- she saw it all. It couldn't be said for many people. Honestly, only three members of the Old Army staff had actually been working full-time here, while everybody else was just a passing face.

She was so used to seeing new faces that it simply did not phase her anymore -- Lola had her own stable position in the store; she had her colleagues which she got along with, and she never paid much attention to the newbies once they came into the store. She knew it was almost always just for a short while, basically until they made a mistake while working and got politely declined for the position, so she usually just remained civil, not engaging in much mingling or bonding -- it wouldn't last anyway.

The staff change happened way too often, especially with security. The store management had no idea how to pick the right person for the job -- they either always chose the gangly, skinny types; the ones who couldn't defend others or themselves from a burglar if their life depended on it, or they chose the fatties who had a donut too many during their break and couldn't chase ten feet after the culprit.

Still, this guy -- this new, weirdly interesting guy -- seemed promising.

Lola had no idea where they managed to find him -- he was kinda hot, and definitely in really good shape with thighs and calves that could probably kill if they wanted to. He seemed crude and unapproachable, and the brooding, mysterious attitude definitely didn't quench anybody's curiosity as to where the hell he came from and how the hell they managed to find him of all the people in the world. A scowl was constantly etched on the newcomer's face -- not just when he was being introduced to the staff by the manager, as Lola thought would be the case -- but literally at every single given moment of the workday.

There were only rare moments Lola and the others saw him smile -- usually every single one of those moments being when he was texting someone during his break, or when he was coming back from having lunch with someone at the food court. Not that anyone would dare ask who, although they definitely speculated.

Mickey was the type of guy Lola was interested in making friends with. She approached him once during their shared shift -- usually, she wouldn't even bother, seeing how these guards come and go, but this one really piqued her interest -- trying to figure out who he was, where he came from, what he was doing here. Was he single? She needed to know for her lady friend considering how he was most definitely a sight for sore eyes.

It came as somewhat a surprise when he gave off clipped answers to her questions, most of them not even answering.

"Did you always work security?" She'd ask with a bright smile.

"You could say that."

Silence.

"How long are you planning on staying with us?" Trial-basis or undefined employment? Lola wondered silently.

"Until Larry finds me a better job."

Silence.

"Who?"

Silence. And then a quick, "Never mind."

Lola had officially given up on her efforts to befriend and find out more about the man once Mickey gave her a sharp, pointed stare after she pointed out he didn't have a ring on his finger, hoping he would reveal his relationship status to her.

She most certainly wasn't that lucky, and she almost shat her pants at the murderous expression on his face. She didn't ask again.

The others tried to pry information out of Mickey too, but they certainly lacked the subtlety Lola had. She honestly couldn't say she was the most discreet person in the world, but she was in the Old Army, considering how she found herself working with the two most non-discreet people in the world. Lola was upfront too -- let's not get that wrong.

But at least she didn't outright ask him if he was in a gang like Jeremy did.

"I wanted to know if the tattoos were gang symbols! They freaked me out!" The skinny twenty-year-old replied when the other workers gaped at him with wide eyes.

Jenna shook her head. "Dude, you can't just ask a guy if he was in a gang."

He wouldn't reveal his age, let alone his gang status if he had one, Lola scolded Jeremy mentally. The guy was as open as a seashell -- you could try and pry it open to see if it had a pearl inside, but you'll most likely fail and, to be honest, probably get pinched in the process, if not careful. It was perhaps best not to even try or, if you did, to proceed with extreme caution. A bunch of seashells didn't even have pearls in them anyway, so it'd all be useless in the end.

It only took a week for the staff to find out how Mickey managed to find himself here at Old Army out of all the possible places in the world. It was a shock, to say the least.

One morning, the revelation came when Larry Seaver showed up to the store, dressed in a nice suit and tie, wearing his casual, perky smile. He asked for the manager and had greeted Mickey immediately once he laid eyes on the man. Larry approached him as Jeremy went to get the manager, placing a firm hand on Mickey's shoulder, smiling widely at him.

Lola and Jenna weren't snooping, but they did manage to overhear Larry asking Mickey if he enjoyed working here; if everything was going well; if he was staying out of trouble -- a question that certainly didn't help stop the gossip -- and if he settled in home nicely.

Mickey responded to most of his questions with short, non-descriptive answers, but not with any malice or disdain. He answered them as if he had to, putting an emphasis on the "I'm not getting into any trouble, don't worry Mr. Cheery," making Lola wonder why the question even needed to be posed.

When the manager finally showed up, greeting the man happily, Larry followed him to his office, leaving the others to get back to the customers -- and some to get back to stopping crime. It was only when Larry Seaver left that Jenna shouted, "Oh my God, he's a parole officer!" at the other two workers while drinking coffee in the break room.

"He's a what?" Jeremy asked, slightly confused.

"A parole officer! I heard him talking to the manager about Mickey and how he's settling in. Mickey is a parolee!"

"Jesus Christ, I knew it! And you told me I shouldn't be scared." Jeremy answered with a sullen look, exaggerating a shudder.

Lola quirked an eyebrow at her friend. "Were you eavesdropping?" She was more amused than surprised if she was honest.

Jenna shook her head at Lola in exasperation. "So not the point. Lola, the guy went to prison!"

"We should all just quit now," Jeremy added.

"Come on, you big baby. The guy keeps to himself. You have literally nothing to be scared of." Lola was rolling her eyes at the man, slightly annoyed at the comments.

It didn't surprise her Mickey was here on parole -- it didn't surprise her he was in prison at all. He seemed like the type, not just because of his sullen look and crude knuckle tattoos. It also had a lot to do with the way he carried himself as if the entire world was against him and he needed to protect himself from the inevitable upcoming battle. It was probably why he never spoke to anybody, why he never had coffee with them, and why he seemed to avoid human contact at all possible times. It was also, now, very much obvious why he was so good at guarding the store -- it takes a criminal to catch a criminal, she guessed.

Honestly, it all just made him more interesting.

"I kind of think it's hot," Jenna admitted sheepishly.

Jeremy's eyes bulged out. "You're kidding me."

She shook her head, smiling like a teenage girl. "He's dark, brooding, mysterious. And he's got a really nice ass."

Lola laughed at her friend and at Jeremy's horrified expression. "You should go flirt with him. Maybe you'll be able to figure out if he's single or not." She was only partly joking. Jenna probably didn't need a repeat of what Lola had gone through.

She sighed sadly. "A guy like that is not single."

"Yeah, sure. An ex-con definitely isn't single and is probably in an extremely committed relationship with somebody who loves him for who he is. And that same ex-con guy totally loves somebody back with his whole, entire heart." Jeremy quipped sarcastically and Jenna pinched his bicep in response.

"Love is love, asshole. People murder for love."

Jeremy nodded in response. "Exactly. That's probably why he was in prison."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "You know what? Unlike Jeremy here, I'm not a pussy. I'm gonna go talk to him."

Lola's eyes widened in response and she smiled widely. If anyone would take the bullet for the team, it'd be Jenna. "You go, girl! Get him. Just make sure to be subtle about it"

Jeremy and Lola watched as Jenna went up to Mickey who was standing next to the Old Army store entrance, looking as bored and uninterested as ever. When he saw Jenna approaching, he grimaced, obviously preparing himself for the confrontation.

Jeremy and Lola locked eyes as Jenna began to audibly flirt with Mickey. They couldn't hear everything she was saying from where they were eavesdropping but they didn't hear Mickey even speak. Based on the disappointed look on Jenna's face when she walked into the break room again, they didn't think it went that well.

"So?" Lola inquired hopefully.

Jenna shook her head. "Completely uninterested. I even made my boobs look bigger in this shirt. Didn't work, obviously."

"What'd he say?" Lola probed deeper.

"Well, I asked where he lived, where he used to work, if he was settling in nicely -- and he just kind of hummed."

"Hummed?"

"He barely even answered the questions."

"Maybe he's gay and in a committed relationship with a dude," Jeremy added sarcastically, once again. "Maybe I should go up and flirt with him instead. See if it works for me."

Jenna rolled her eyes at Jeremy's sarcasm. "You're too big of a pussy to do it. Plus he's probably not gay."

Jeremy didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he just smiled. "Whatever you say, Jenny. Oh, by the way -- I totally am."

Mickey never spent his break with the others. In fact, he was either sitting outside the store, drinking Pinkberry and messing around with his phone, or he was at the food court, presumably meeting somebody for lunch. Lola was dying to know who, but she never dared to ask or to check, although it would have been so easy.

The curiosity extended out of the workplace as well -- Jenna, Lola, and Jeremy had a group chat. It was, at first, formed as a work chat, purely for announcements and work hours, but as time passed -- and as the employees and employers changed -- it evolved into something much more. Now, it was their main gossiping media.

--- old army besties ---

LOLA (9:56 PM): I can't find him anywhere on social media.

JEREMY (9:58 PM): You're obsessed.

LOLA (9:58 PM): Fuck off, Jeremy.

JENNA (10:03 PM): There are a bunch of articles about him escaping prison!!!!!!!!!

LOLA (10:04 PM): NO SHIT

LOLA (10:04 PM): LINK NOW

LOLA (10:04 PM): !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JENNA (10:06 PM): https://images.app.goo.gl/rzDzCogf1H84QD78A

JENNA (10:06 PM): HEHAGDJADGAIGDAJFGAJFGAJFGA

LOLA (10:08 PM): oh my god

JENNA (10:08 PM): I KNOW

JEREMY (10:07 PM): ya'll are crazy

JENNA (10:08 PM): Is it bad it just makes me even more attracted to him??????

JEREMY (10:09 PM): yes.

LOLA (10:09 PM): NO!

LOLA (10:10 PM): Jenna, same.

JEREMY (10:11 PM): I have a psych ward to recommend you to. Hold up.

JENNA (10:11 PM): Jeremy, stfu

*JEREMY has left the chat*

LOLA (10:12 PM): You wanna add him back in or should I?

JENNA (10:12 PM): Neither.

JENNA (10:12 PM): Let him suffer.

The gossiping continued for a while. It didn't honestly seem like it would stop at all, and nobody really seemed inclined to put an end to the wildfire gossip that spread through the entire Old Army staff. Not that anyone cared much, either, if they were being completely honest.

One day, though, the Mickey who was always grumpy and never without a scowl seemed particularly furious.

He spoke to no one, he didn't check his phone at all, which was a rare occurrence and almost never happened -- he was usually glued to the thing, always texting someone -- and he basically looked like he was ready to kill the next person who dared steal something from the store.

"Anyone wanna ask what crawled up his ass and died?" Jenna asked lowly, observing Mickey from where she and Lola stood behind the cash register. Jeremy hung around in the back, angry that they still hadn't added him back to the group chat.

Lola simply grimaced. "I guess we've been dealing with happy Mickey all this time."

Jeremy pretended not to pay much attention to them, very much bitter. He just muttered, as a side note, loud enough to get even Mickey's attention, "Yo, I guess they found who killed that parole officer."

That piqued Lola's interest. The murder was all over the news the day before -- a parole officer named Paula had been thrown out the window -- and Lola didn't expect them to have found the killer so soon.

"Already?" She wondered, out loud.

"Who is it?" Jenna asked.

"Some ex of hers -- Shelly, I think. They arrested her yesterday."

Lola released a sigh. "That's some good news. Now she can't hurt anybody else." She mentally applauded the police for the good and quick work.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mickey was listening in to their conversation. She could have sworn she heard him snort when she muttered the last part, the one about it being good news. She saw an opening, and when Lola began to open her mouth and try and include him in the conversation, he had already turned around and left to stand back at his regular spot, expression sullen, pretending as if he never even cared to listen in after all.

Mickey was gone all of a sudden one day -- as the manager had told them briefly, on paid leave. He didn't reveal why or when he'd be coming back, only saying how Mickey had something important come up, and that he'd eventually be back. He didn't seem to be aggravated while talking about Mickey, so Lola guessed he didn't get fired, nor that he was being tested again for his position -- he had honestly been doing great. Better than the ones before him, at least.

Lola was actually somewhat shocked. She was also slightly disappointed he didn't tell her.

Mickey had actually started opening up a little -- not much (when she said little she meant very little) -- but he was finally communicating with them during their shift together, something he most certainly hadn't even tried to do, no matter how hard they tried to push. He also seemed happier, coming in one morning looking the happiest Lola had ever seen him.

It was the first day Mickey made actual conversation with her -- about the ugly clothes in the store, nevertheless -- and she genuinely was starting to like him.

"Maybe he likes you," Jenna told her after noticing them talking.

Lola blushed. "Probably not."

Jeremy snorted and both women turned towards him. "He's probably more attracted to me than you." He muttered absentmindedly while scrolling through his phone.

"Still sticking to the gay theory?" Jenna asked pointedly.

"I may not be dark, brooding, and mysterious, but my gaydar is on point. At first, I was skeptical, but he rocks that pink pastel shirt a little too well." He said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Jenna and Lola shared a look before both rolling their eyes.

"Let's hope he asks you out." Jenna finished and Lola blushed even more. Stupid crush. Jeremy snorted.

She was a little disappointed he was gone but his step-in was a cute guy and the gossip between her, Jeremy, and Jenna was endless -- Jenna and Lola came up with different theories as to where he was which all ranged from family emergencies to crazy prison breaks -- Jeremy would simply roll their eyes at them whenever a new theory came up.

When Mickey came back a couple of days later, it seemed as if he had a spring in his step. For the first time in all the time Lola had known him, instead of a scowl, there was a smile present on his face.

"Holy shit, he's smiling." Jenna pointed out incredulously, and Lola simply nodded shell-shocked. He had a beautiful smile.

It was even weirder when he greeted them when he walked into the store, uttering a simple, "Hey" which neither woman expected.

"So, that's happy Mickey," Lola said under her breath. "Good to know."

The sudden chirpiness didn't disappear throughout his entire shift and Lola began to wonder what type of vacation he had gone on to be this happy. She needed to ask him -- if it could take the stick out of his ass, then it could definitely make her feel like she was in heaven.

The answer came shortly after.

"He's got a ring on his finger."

"What?" Lola and Jenna exclaimed simultaneously, looking at Jeremy like he was crazy.

"The hell are you talking about?" Jenna asked, glancing between Jeremy and Mickey, inconspicuously trying to catch a glimpse of Mickey's hand.

"He's married, guys. He probably got married while he was away. There is a golden band on his ring finger."

Lola and Jenna were surprised they missed it. The ring shone brightly on his left hand, reflecting the shitty lighting of the Old Army store. It looked beautiful and, somehow, it made him look complete. She didn't even realize something was missing until it was there, staring straight at them. That's what the wedding ring seemed like -- a piece of Mickey they were all simply missing. Something that let them know that there was somebody in his life, a single person, who had his heart -- a person who managed to pry open the shell and find the pearl. Perhaps the process was painless; perhaps it wasn't -- Lola supposed there were only two people in the universe who truly knew the answer to that question.

"Well, I didn't see that coming."

Lola chuckled, letting the genuine happiness she felt for him consume her. "Me either."

The next time she passed him, she smiled at the ring widely. "Congratulations! I see the ring." She pointed at his hand.

Mickey smiled softly, gazing at it with a look in his eye Lola could only describe as love. "Yeah, thanks."He seemed a little uncomfortable, so Lola refrained from asking about his wife, and if he had any pictures to show her. She was learning new things about this man every day. The woman who tied him down must have been patient, but also extremely lucky.

"Ugh, I wish he was single," Jenna muttered again later on in the day, gazing longingly at Mickey's ass. "That butt makes the whole ex-con, escaping prison thing worth it."

Lola laughed at her friend, agreeing silently.

It was nearing the end of their shift, and the four people had changed out of their uniforms, getting rid of the ugly pastel pink color, exchanging it with something that was actually fashionable -- Mickey had an especially good fashion sense, in Lola's opinion (he could rock ripped jeans). Mickey had still been in the staff changing room when Lola noticed a guy hanging around the store. A tall, extremely hot redheaded guy, with one of the best bodies she'd seen on a man in a while.

She shook Jenna's arm so she could point out the guy to her, aware that Jenna deserved to gaze at a man this good-looking. He was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt along with skinny jeans that accentuated all of his muscles, from the ones in his arms to his leg ones -- he was ripped, and Lola could only assume there were chiseled abs hiding underneath the shirt. He was drop-dead gorgeous.

Jenna turned around to see what the fuss was about, but her mouth fell open when her eyes landed in the ginger.

"Oh my God, I think just came."

"Me too," Lola admitted. She was genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. "I think we need to get laid."

"Definitely." Jenna's eyes were glued to the man. His hair was perfect too -- slicked back, and just... it was a sort of, ' you simply had to see it to believe it' type of situation. He was beautiful. "Man, how the fuck does God create these men?"

Jenna didn't tear her eyes away. "He must be either really bad in bed or a total douchebag. There's no way he's that hot and nice too."

They suddenly heard Mickey's voice behind them. "Trust me, he's neither."

Lola and Jenna jumped in surprise, but she didn't even have a moment to think about what Mickey said. She was still looking at the ginger, but his green eyes were locked on somebody else though, and he didn't even seem to notice the two women gaping openly at him.

When Lola turned to follow his gaze she was surprised to see it land on Mickey.

"Oh my dear Lord, he's totally eye-fucking Mickey!" She whisper-shouted at Jenna, Mickey being far away not to hear her. Jenna whipped her head around towards where Mickey stood, seemingly unaware.

"Oh my God, he totally is!"

Mickey noticed them staring. He raised an eyebrow at the two women and then as if on a whim, approached them. "You need anything?" He asked, seemingly uncomfortable, but he still paid no attention to the fact a guy was blatantly letting it show on his face that he was imagining all of the things he could probably be doing to Mickey, right now. The redhead had the biggest case of bed-eyes she'd seen in a while.

Lola blinked herself out of her daze. "Um, no. Uh, we just-- we, uh--" She was at a loss for words and Jenna didn't seem to even think about helping.

"Ugh, God." They suddenly heard Jeremy exclaim. All eyes turned to him. "There's a really hot guy outside the store, and he's staring at you." He made a gesture as if saying, 'See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?'. "That's what they're trying to say."

Mickey turned to look forward outside and when his gaze fell on the guy -- the guy he had most certainly already noticed -- his face lit up even more, and his lip curled into a smirk. He turned towards Jeremy and nodded at him. "Glad to see you toughening up."

Jeremy smiled at Mickey as if they were sharing an inside joke, and both Lola and Jenna had no idea what it was. They shared a disbelieving look. "Learned from the best, man," Jeremy replied as they fist-bumped and Lola knew her and Jenna's eyes had to be unnaturally wide.

"So um, so you know the guy outside? He's totally checking you out." Jenna nodded at the hot guy who was still watching them -- watching Mickey, specifically. Lola guessed he was waiting for him, for whatever reason. She guessed hot guys stuck together. If he wasn't a ginger, Lola would have assumed they were brothers and that the good looks simply ran in the gene pool. Lola watched as Mickey locked eyes with the man and smiled. The guy raised his eyebrows in question and Mickey just kept the grin on his face.

"That's Ian, my husband."

Shock couldn't even begin to describe what Lola was currently feeling. If somebody had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water down her back, she would have probably been less surprised. As she was contemplating everything she knew and had been learning about Mickey, the man in question waved towards Ian to join them. Ian made his way inside and Lola could lie and say she didn't swoon.

"Hi." He greeted sheepishly with a smile, previously observing the commotion.

Mickey seemed unnaturally relaxed as he stood close to Ian, wrapping a hand behind his back subconsciously. Lola wondered who the man in front of her was -- it most certainly wasn't the grump Lola had been working with all this time.

"Ian, meet Lola, Jenna, and Jeremy."

Ian smiled politely at all three of them, leaving Lola in a daze -- God, he was gorgeous. She was just about to reply when he nodded at Jeremy specifically. "Sup, Jeremy. Heard a lot about you."

Jeremy smiled back at Ian. "Same, dude. Your husband just can't seem to shut up about you."

Ian smirked, and then turned to look at Mickey, "Is that so?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Fuck you both. I got married. What am I supposed to do? Just shut up about it? Hell no."

Ian laughed and draped an arm around Mickey's shoulder. "Don't worry, baby. I don't mind."

Ian and Mickey shared a quick look, and Lola wondered if she would ever find a person who would look at her the way these two men looked at each other. She suddenly felt bad for thinking Mickey was straight -- everything about this simple interaction screamed gay.

"We should head home, I know you've been waiting for ages outside."

Ian nodded. "Yeah okay, let's go." He then smiled at the three people in front of them widely. "It was nice meeting you guys."

Jeremy was the only one capable of responding. "You too."

"See ya'," Mickey muttered lamely as a goodbye and the couple was out of the store in the blink of an eye, arms wrapped around each other, talking quietly, their expressions pure happiness.

Lola and Jenna turned around to stare at their friend.

"What the fuck was that?" Lola asked, incredulous.

The traitor in front of them shrugged. "What? While you guys were coming up with conspiracies and weird theories, I actually talked to the guy. He's pretty cool. He was raised and lives on the Southside where he met Ian. He first spent some time in juvie. Got shot twice. Went to prison, escaped from prison, went to Mexico, worked for a cartel, rolled on said cartel be with Ian. They were in prison together and they decided to get married when they got out. He's actually been giving me tips to boost my street cred. We've been working on that shit for some time now."

Lola shook her head in thought. "When did you guys become so close?"

Jeremy snorted. "When you decided not 5o add me back to the group chat, bitches." He smirked. "Revenge is a dish best served cold." As an afterthought, he added, "I'm not dark and brooding, but I guess I can add mysterious to my list of charms."

Lola and Jenna watched him as he turned around.

"Is it just me or did he suddenly get hot?"

Lola sighed loudly. "I think we've been tricked."

Jenna groaned, suddenly. "I can't believe it. Two men that hot -- and they end up with each other. Like, what the fuck? Why can't there be one for me?"

Lola laughed, but, as always, silently agreed.

Everybody lost their jobs when the pandemic hit, and when the Old Army finally went back into business, Mickey Milkovich wasn't there. The gossip moved on to different topics and different employees -- the hot security guard was nothing but a distant memory.

The next time Lola saw them was years later. She was much older, much more experienced, and much more in love. She had met somebody, had fallen deep, and it had changed her life for the better.

Love was an interesting thing.

Mickey was standing at the corner of a street. The sun was shining brightly above him, and Lola realized he still looked as beautiful as ever -- his face was much more relaxed though as if the walls he had spent years putting up were suddenly all down, letting his pearl shine through, and glint in the sun. He was waiting for somebody outside of a store, and somehow, Lola knew it was his husband.

She couldn't remember his name, but she could never forget the look.

So many years had passed, and Lola had gone through so many relationships -- but the look was what always had her looking for more, never settling for anything short of what she knew she could have. What they showed her she could have.

Once she found someone who looked at her the way Ian -- Lola would only remember his name sometime later in the day -- looked at Mickey, and somebody she would look at the way Mickey looked at Ian -- that was when she'd know she had found the one.

Ian exited the store, much to Lola's expectation, his red hair, slightly grown out, fiery red in the Sun. The boy holding his hand was smiling widely, and the smile only grew once he saw Mickey.

The boy dropped Ian's hand and ran towards -- Lola simply knew -- his father, jumping into his arms. Mickey picked the small boy up effortlessly -- he was no older than five -- laughing along with him as the boy dove into, what Lola presumed, a story.

Ian and Mickey shared a look, so akin to the one they had shared that day, years ago, in the store, filled with so much love, adoration and happiness before focusing their gazes on their child. It wasn't just between them anymore -- the love they had was now for the little boy as well, nurturing and taking care of him, allowing him to bask in it. They probably didn't even realize they were doing it.

Lola felt tears in her eyes.

She had once searched for the look.

Now, she hoped she would one day be able to share this look with her own husband and her own child.

Lola patted her swollen belly.

One day.

She watched as the two men and boy pulled away, still listening to the story the boy was telling. Lola pulled her phone out as she watched their retreating forms.

Lola opened the group chat, typing excitedly.

--- old army besties ---

LOLA (12:33 PM): You'll never guess who I just saw.

She was thankful for many things Mickey Milkovich showed her, but the one thing she was grateful for the most was that thanks to him, the gossip never ended.

#gallavich #ian and mickey #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #fanfic #based on a prompt #shameless #ian gallagher #ianxmickey #shameless us

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nikki-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

At the Edge of the Woods (Werewolf!Steve x Reader)

Summary: When you move into a cottage on the edge of the forest, you’re ready to start a new life in a new, quiet town. But when you attract the attention of Steve Rogers, a man who everyone in town seems to dislike and fear, your world is turned upside down after he decides that you belong to him.

Pairing: Werewolf/Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Read part two here!

A/N: Hey, guys! So a couple warnings about this one: it contains stalking, a/b/o dynamics, non-con, dub-con, breeding kink, and a whole lotta sin. Also, this is my first time writing anything with alpha/omega stuff in it, so be kind! And let me know if you liked it or if there’s anything I need to work on when writing about this sorta thing. Thank you so much, and enjoy!

It was love at first sight. From the moment you laid eyes on the cottage, you knew it would become your home. The thing was tiny, barely any bigger than a shack, and it was a good fifteen minutes’ drive from the nearest sign of civilization. But you didn’t care; you were enamored with the thick layer of ivy that had overtaken the western wall of the structure, and there were huge bushes of honeysuckle growing along the edge of the forest just a few feet from the backdoor.

And when your real estate agent told you the price of the property, the deal was immediately sealed.

“You’re kidding,” you’d deadpanned. “That’s all?”

“Yep,” she’d grinned, clutching her binder of properties tight against her chest. “Quite the bargain, huh?”

“I mean… Yeah,” you’d laughed. “It must be too good to be true. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, structurally,” she began, “The plumbing is on the older side of things, but it passed inspection. Same goes for the heating and air conditioning. There’s been a bit of a rodent problem in the past, but the appraiser said that a few mouse traps should do the trick to take care of that.”

Her smile had fallen at that point, though, and she shifted on her feet as she considered her next words.

“What is it?” you’d prompted.

“Well… The thing is,” she said sheepishly, “The locals have this superstition about the woods in this area. People say that they’re, uh…haunted.”

“…Haunted?”

You were barely able to contain an amused grin from overtaking your face, and with a shrug you turned back toward the kitchen, admiring the view of the trees through the little window above the stove.

“I know, it’s pretty weird,” the agent chuckled. “But people around here really do believe it. Something about an urban legend. I will say, though, that coyotes and wolves are known to roam around at night, so that’s probably where the paranoia comes from. Just try not to go out after dark. And if you get any chickens or outdoor animals, I’d keep them inside a kennel.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I’m not exactly a farmer. I’m just looking for a place to settle down.

“And I think this cottage is the perfect spot.”

A month later, after the papers were signed and your possessions were moved in, you found yourself happier than you’d ever been in your new abode. You’d purchased house plants and artwork, designing the small space until it was exactly to your liking. You’d even decided to take up gardening, and your tiny back porch had become dotted with pots filled with flourishing herbs.

You fell into an easy routine. On Mondays, you would venture into town, picking up groceries from the local mart and picking up any other supplies you needed. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were dedicated to your work; you were the owner and manager of a blog that had become an overnight success several months ago, and so you spent those days curled up in the cottage, typing away at your laptop and creating content.

The only strange thing thus far had been the town residents’ reaction to you. Everyone was friendly, of course, and they’d made it clear that small town hospitality was a value the entire population seemed to share, but you weren’t oblivious to the way they side-eyed you. No one ever looked suspicious, per se, more like…expectant. Like they were waiting for you to say or do something, though you had no idea what it could be.

Earl, the bookstore owner, was by far one of the friendliest people you’d ever met, and after four weeks of the bizarre treatment, you finally asked him about it.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” he waved you off, sliding your new books into a paper bag. “It’s just that no one’s ever lasted long in that cottage o’ yours.”

“…Well, that’s a bit…unsettling. What happened to them?”

“Nothing,” he was quick to assure you. “Nothing bad happens to ‘em. It’s not like they’ve gotten hurt or anything. It’s just that, uh… Well. Strange things seem to happen in that part o’ the woods at night, and it’s scared the last couple o’ tenants off.”

“Huh… My real estate agent did mention something like that,” you admitted, starting to feel an irrational spark of apprehension. “What kind of things did they see?”

“Well… I don’t wanna scare you away,” he grumbled, scratching at his salt-and-pepper beard.

“I promise you won’t. I really like where I’m at right now. I’m just…curious, I guess.”

Earl seemed to consider it for a moment before giving in.

“Alright,” he sighed. “But for the record, I don’t believe any of the silly nonsense some folks ‘round here like to gossip about. This is a quiet town – a safe town. The only dangerous thing about this place is Mary Jo’s strawberry rhubarb pie down at the soda shop – I swear those things are the reason I got diabetes.”

You chuckled at Earl, and he gave you a warm smile before leaning towards you over the counter, propping himself up on his elbow.

“So, anyways, back to your house,” he started. “The last people there were this younger couple. They were nice kids – had just gotten hitched. But after a few weeks, they said they started noticin’ howls at night. Now, that’s normal for this area; we’ve got some wolves. But these howls were close, so loud that it woke em’ up most nights.

“Then, they started seeing people walking around the property around midnight. It coulda’ been that they were smokin’ some stuff they shouldn’a been smokin’, but they swore up and down that they saw naked men traipsin’ around. One time, there was one on their back porch, and the husband ran out to chase him off, but as quick as they saw him, he vanished.

“Again, I don’t know if I believe all of that junk,” Earl huffed. “But… the old lady who lived there before the couple said the same thing before she passed away, god rest her soul. And ol’ Lizzy didn’t lie about this sorta thing.”

You made a quiet hum of contemplation, nodding.

“Well,” you eventually spoke, “if I see any naked men hanging around, I have my handy dandy taser.”

A wide grin broke out over the older man’s face, and he reached over the counter to cuff your shoulder.

“Thata girl,” he chuckled. “I like it. And if you do see people hangin’ around on your property, give me a call, ok?” He fumbled around for a business card, eventually opening the cash register and pulling one out. “Call the bottom number if anyone gives you trouble, ok? I know I’m not the most intimidating guy around, but I keep a shotgun at the house just in case. And if the wolves become a problem, call the police. They’ll send some guys over from animal control to chase ‘em off.”

“Thanks, Earl,” you smiled, tucking the card into your wallet. “Oh, and before I forget, do you have any stationary? Letter writing paper, colored pens, that sort of thing?”

“I’m afraid we don’t. Oh, but Greg and Lou would probably have some. Try their art supply store; it’s right around the corner on the left side o’ the road.”

With that, you thanked Earl and walked out, clutching your paper bag of novels to your chest. You had to admit that the idea of wolves on your property was starting to scare you, but the thought of a naked guy just hanging out in the woods was enough to make you laugh to yourself. Even if it was true, you’d dealt with weirdos before. If that was the worst of your problems, then you’d be a happy camper.

You followed Earl’s instructions and immediately spotted a quaint store with a sign over the door reading “The Brushstroke”. Upon walking inside, you were greeted by the smell of paper and ink, and papier mache mobiles were hanging from the ceiling every few feet, dancing in the breeze that had flown in after you opened the door. Two men were standing behind the counter, sipping from steaming mugs of tea, and their heads popped up as you walked in.

“Hey, there!” one of them called, giving you a wave. “Welcome; come on in.”

“Hello,” you replied with a smile.

“We haven’t seen you around before,” the other man remarked, a kind smile on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new girl in town, would you?”

“Word spreads quickly, I guess.”

“It does when you live in a town like this,” he nodded. “I’m Lou, by the way. And this is my husband Greg.”

Greg nodded in greeting, and you gave them a wide smile.

“It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“Likewise, hon. Can we help you find anything?”

You told them what you were looking for, and they instructed you towards the back of the store, where you found a wall filled with rows of neat packets of paper right next to a cubby of pens of all types and colors. You took your time in making your selections, not even noticing the door of the shop opening and closing; it was only when you heard Greg and Lou’s quiet conversation come to an abrupt halt that you glanced around the corner to see what was going on.

Your eyes widened when you saw the man standing in front of the counter; he was tall, maybe a few inches over six foot, and built like a tank. A thick, well-groomed beard adorned his face, and his hair was on the longer side, curling just past his ears in thick, easy waves. Despite the chilly weather outside, he was only dressed in a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and you watched his biceps bulge under the fabric as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“…Steve,” Greg finally said. “Long time no see.”

The man – Steve, evidently – nodded his head as he approached the counter.

“Wh-what can we do for you?” Lou asked, seeming to shrink back as he walked towards them.

“I need a new sketchbook,” Steve mumbled, almost too quietly for you to hear. His voice was deep, resonating, and something about its gravelly edge made goosebumps rise up over your arms.

“You know where to find ‘em,” Greg stated after clearing his throat. “Just get whatever you need and go.”

It looked as if Steve was about to say something, but after a pause, he just nodded, ducking his head and turning directly towards you. You stiffened as he grew nearer, feeling an unexplainable urge to turn and run away from him, but then his eyes met yours, and you were frozen in place.

Blue irises stared directly into you, and you watched as surprise washed over his features. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in through his nose, and you swore that you saw his pupils dilate as he looked you up and down. When his gaze finally met yours again, and you stumbled back a step, stunned at the look on his face. It was as if he knew you.

But that couldn’t be; you’d never seen this man before. If you had, you definitely would’ve remembered him.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, but all of a sudden you were broken out of your strange stupor. Fixing your eyes firmly on the floor, you turned and blindly grabbed the first stack of papers that your extended hand came in contact with. You did the same with the pens, grabbing a random pack before turning on your heel and heading towards the front.

Or, rather, heading directly into a broad, firm chest. You hadn’t heard any footsteps, but while your back was turned Steve had apparently stalked up behind you, and now you were so close that you could smell the distinct scent of pine wafting off of him. Pine and…something else, something musky. It made your mouth water and your eyes flutter shut, and you could have sworn that you heard a deep growl sound from his chest.

The noise startled you so badly that you dropped everything, even your paper bag from Earl’s, and you felt as if your entire body was trembling as you turned away. On unsteady feet, you walked back to the front, glancing at Greg and Lou out of the corner of your eye as you headed towards the door. Lou was watching you with a concerned expression painted across his face, but Greg was still staring Steve down, as if he were sizing him up.

The cold, early-spring wind hit you square in the face once you exited the store, and it sobered you up enough to cease your nervous trembling. There was still a sense of blind panic, though, a deep-seated fear that drove you to march over to your car without turning back.

As you peeled out of your parking space and sped towards your home, you slowly began to calm down, taking slow, even breaths to slow the frantic beating of your heart. As you put more and more distance between you and the mysterious man from the art store, you found that, even later on when you were safe in your home, you still couldn’t rationalize why you’d felt the way you had. And that evening, when you were getting ready to go to bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Typically, you kept the curtains in your bedroom open, enjoying the sight of the forest laying just beyond the panes of glass. But tonight, before going to bed, you drew them shut before burrowing under the covers, hiding away from the lingering, unexplainable dread that had followed you home that day.

____________

You weren’t sure what had woken you. When you jolted out of your slumber, you were laying sprawled out over your mattress, your sheets tangled around your ankles. Everything was quiet, unsettlingly so. It was as if your cottage was holding its breath, waiting for something horrible to happen. The world was black beyond your windows, and the clock on your bedside table read 3:42 in the morni-

Wait.

The lingering tendrils of sleep within your brain melted away as you bolted upright, your wide eyes focused on your windows and the curtains that were neatly pulled away from them. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you slowly, deliberately, stood up from your bed, reaching for your phone blindly as you kept your eyes on the windows.

You drew the curtains closed as your thumb hovered over the emergency call button, and you gulped before turning towards your open bedroom door.

“H-hello?” you called out, voice still thick with sleep.

There was no answer, and you took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. You were relieved to find nothing out of place; the kitchen, as well, was in perfect order, as was your tiny bathroom. You grew bolder as you searched your house, checking underneath your bed and inside of your wardrobe, but still you found nothing.

Eventually, you sauntered over to your back door, and that’s when you smelled it. Smelled him. The same scent that had flooded your senses back at the bookstore was thick in the air right next to the backdoor. You blinked rapidly, feeling a stirring in your gut as you inhaled it, and you gulped as you faced the door.

“…Steve?” you murmured, suddenly unable to make a sound any louder than a whisper.

Without realizing what you were doing, your hand came up to the doorknob, tracing the curve of it with your thumb. A tiny, experimental twist revealed that it wasn’t locked, and a small voice in the back of your head supplied that it was sure you’d locked it before going to sleep.

One more twist, and the door popped open, goosebumps rising up over your skin as the night air rushed over you. You turned on the porch light with a flick of your fingers and stepped out, wincing when the floorboards creaked under your feet. You half expected to see a naked man standing there just as Earl had said, but there was nobody.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning against the doorway as your eyes flitted over the forest. You felt silly, getting all paranoid for no reason. With a small, sheepish smile, you straightened up and turned to head back inside, eager to climb back under your warm sheets and forget about the whole thing.

But that was when you saw it.

You stopped in your tracks and sucked in a deep breath as the wolf sauntered out from the tree line, its eyes focused directly on you just as yours were focused on it. Its fur was sandy and mottled with streaks of light brown and creamy white, and in the dim light you thought that you caught a flash of blue in its eyes. You took a step backwards as that same smell washed over you, and for a short, fleeting moment, you thought that there was something familiar about the beast.

It took another step towards you, and that was when you realized how massive it was. You’d seen pictures of wolves on the internet; you knew how big they were supposed to be compared to people. But this was another thing completely; this wolf looked to be the size of a grizzly bear, and you knew that if it were to stand up on its two hind legs, it would tower over you.

Abruptly, you broke out of your paralysis, blinking rapidly as you turned back towards your door. You heard a growl from behind you, but you ignored it as you fled back into your house, slamming the door shut and turning the lock back into place. A thud sounded on its other side, followed by the scratching of claws against wood.

You waited several moments, silently begging the animal to stop, but the thumping only carried on, accompanied by muted, distressed whining. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your phone, punching in ‘911’ and holding the device up to your ear.

“911, where is your emergency?”

“U-um… I-I’m at 432 Nottington Lane. Please, there’s this, this wolf outside and it’s trying to get it, and…”

As you spoke, the noises suddenly stopped. You paused, frowning at the door and straining your ears. But everything had once more gone silent.

“Hello, ma’am? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m still here. Um… I think it’s gone now. It’s… Yeah, it’s gone. I’m really sorry to bother you guys. Just, uh… Just ignore this call, please. I’m sorry.”

You hung up and set your phone down on the kitchen counter, staring hard at your back door.

“…Shit.”

_______________

You didn’t close your curtains again after that night. You told yourself it was because there was no reason to, that you had nothing to hide yourself from. But, in the back of your mind, you knew that it was because you were too afraid of waking up with them open of someone else’s accord.

Two days went by with no further incident. You kept up with your little routine, throwing yourself into your work and acting as if you weren’t still shaken up from the ordeal. You called Earl and let him know you’d seen a wolf, just like he’d said, and the two of you had laughed over the scare it had given you. But the laughter didn’t reach your eyes or your heart, and it was still hard for you to fall asleep whenever night came around.

On the third day, though, you decided that you needed to get out. Every time your eyes strayed to the forest, you felt a pinprick of anxiety, and you were desperate to forget about what had happened. And so, dressing in your most comfortable leggings and oversized sweater, you ventured out into town, stopping for breakfast at the soda shop.

Mary Jo’s Soda Shop had been open and owned by Mary Jo herself since before you were born. It was located right in the center of town, and it was the closest thing to ‘busy’ that the small township’s population could be capable of. The front porch was lined with old, worn rocking chairs, and empty planter boxes sat beneath every single window; you were sure that they’d be overflowing with petunias as the weather turned warmer.

The atmosphere was warm and cozy as you stepped inside. People of all different races and walks of life found solace under Mary’s roof, and it was clear by the easy smiles, easy laughter, and easy conversation that pervaded the dining room. A teenaged girl, who you’d later find out to be Mary Jo’s granddaughter, showed you to your table and took your order, and as you settled down into the cracked-leather seat of your booth, you found yourself finally relaxing.

It was easy to get lost in your own thoughts, especially with the dull roar of voices and the soft sounds of country music playing over the radio as background noise. You stared off into space as you sipped your orange juice, content to just zone out for a few moments and let your brain go on autopilot.

Maybe that was why it startled you so much when a man abruptly slid into the seat across from you. You were pulled out of your revelry by a dark shadow suddenly appearing in your peripheral vision, and your initial fright only deepened when you looked up to see who it was.

“Steve…”

The man from yesterday was staring you down, dressed this time in a red and black flannel. His hair, too, looked like it had been combed out, and his beard was shiny and soft-looking, as if he’d rubbed oil into it that morning.

You didn’t know what to say as he sat across from you, his fingers laced together on top of the table, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the two of you were completely silent.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, and you arched your eyebrow at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he let out a long sigh through his nose. He didn’t answer your question, and you started to shift in your seat as he continued to stare.

Finally, you told him, murmuring your name under your breath. Upon hearing it, he nodded, finally glancing up when your waitress came back to take your order. When her eyes fell onto the man seated across from you, she visibly paled, her mascara-lined eyes widening as her smile turned to a grimace.

“Mr. Rogers,” she said timidly, “my grandmother told you not to come in anymore-“

“It’ll be fine, Rosie,” he grunted. “I won’t cause any trouble; I’m just talking with (Y/N), here.”

Rosie looked over to you, and you blinked up at her, hoping your incredulity was showing through in your eyes.

“I… I’m not sure…”

Steve huffed and looked over at you, a predatory edge appearing in his visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged you. “Tell her.”

“I really don’t-“

Suddenly, his scent was flooding your senses once more, and you almost gagged on your words as you breathed it in. You wondered why Rosie didn’t seem to notice it as it washed over you, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“I, uh…” Your voice trailed off distractedly, and Steve’s knee nudged yours under the table.

“I-it’s fine,” you finally managed to stutter, and a pleased smirk appeared over his features.

“See? Everything is fine,” he insisted. “Now, weren’t you coming to take our orders?”

Rosie hesitated, but finally she slipped a notepad out of her pocket and nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll have the sampler with crispy bacon. Eggs over easy. And, uh… a biscuit on the side,” Steve listed off.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat, prompting you to jump a little before telling Rosie what you would like.

“Oh! Uh… I’ll have the same,” you muttered, though you hadn’t really been planning on eating anything of the sort.

But Rosie jotted it down in her notepad, all but fleeing to the kitchen after you were done speaking.

“And I’ll take some coffee!” Steve called after her.

When it was finally just the two of you, he once again gave you his full attention, and you fought to keep your mind straight.

“I don’t…know you,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know you, and you’re making me uncomfortable. Please, just-“

“I really liked the nightgown you had on last night.”

Your eyes bugged open, and your head shot up to look at him. You felt your blood run cold as he watched you with that same smirk he’d worn while ordering Rosie around, and you clutched your purse tighter to yourself.

“Wh…What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he insisted. “How are you liking living in that cottage? The last few people there-“

“What the fuck,” you interrupted. “You…you were watching me?”

He sighed at your interruption but nodded, leaning forward on his elbows.

“And you were watching me.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I never saw you, or I would’ve called the cops-“

“But you did see me,” he insisted. “While I was in my other form.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but then understanding came over you, and you shook your head.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You mean…the wolf?”

Steve nodded, looking up when Rosie came back with his coffee. She all but slammed the cup on the table, spilling a few drops of the beverage as she poured it. After shooting him a sour glare, she turned on her heel to attend to the other tables around you, the occupants thereof starting to notice who you were sitting with. The din of voices had gone just a bit quieter as they watched him, and you were starting to realize that the entire town knew who Steve was, and judging on the locals’ reaction to him, his reputation wasn’t on the favorable side of things.

“So… Let me get this straight,” you deadpanned, watching as Steve took a sip from his steaming mug. “You’re saying that you were the wolf I saw?”

He nodded, swallowing his coffee.

“I’m among the last of my kind,” he sighed, tapping his fingers against his cup. “At least in this area of the country. But, yeah, that was me, scratching at your door. I was honestly a little hurt by your reaction-“

“You’re fucking insane.”

A scowl overtook his features, and his hands tensed as his fingers went still.

“I would really prefer it,” he growled, “if you didn’t use that sort of language with me, Omega.”

“Ome- What?” You shook your head, unable to process how insane this man really was. “Ok, I’m done here.”

You grabbed your purse and stood up from the booth, but a hand clamped down on your upper arm as you made for the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve insisted, and you felt fear course through you at how possessive he’d just sounded. “We have a lot we need to talk about.”

“Let go of me!” You tried to pull away from him, but you might as well have been struggling against an iron chain. Steve didn’t budge as he held you in place, and a whimper escaped your throat as he began pulling you to sit next to him in the booth.

“Steve.”

Both of you froze when you heard the voice, and you looked up to see three men standing over your table, frowning at the man who still had a firm hold on you.

“Steve, let the girl go,” one of them said, and you saw Steve’s lip curl out of the corner of your eye.

“Rhodey,” he grunted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not long enough,” the man fired back.

For a second, you were afraid that Steve was going to ignore them, but then his grip on you disappeared. You hurriedly stood up again, backing away until you were out of arm’s reach from him. The entire restaurant was silent as everybody within held their breath, watching Rhodey and Steve stare one another down.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Steve said, and it was then that you realized you couldn’t wait there any longer. You didn’t care how it played out; you just wanted to get out of there.

And so, while everyone was distracted, you turned on your heel and slipped out, pushing past the front door, running past the rocking chairs and planter boxes, crossing the street without first looking both ways. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute, and you didn’t fully know where you were running to until you were standing in the entry way of Earl’s bookstore.

“Hey, there,” he called out to you, but his typical cheerful greeting died on his tongue when he saw your face. “What happened?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Earl were seated in his office. You’d told him everything, save for the way Steve’s scent affected you. You knew it was crazy, and you didn’t want one of your only friends in your new town to think you were as insane as your stalker.

“…Shit.”

It was the first word he’d uttered since you began telling him your tale, and he rubbed his forehead as he took in your story.

“Shit. I mean… I always knew there was something off about that Rogers boy,” he admitted. “But he’s never pulled anything like this.”

You quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at him.

“Why does everyone dislike him?” you asked. “It seems like the whole town has something against him.”

Your friend sighed and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” he started. “Steve, he grew up here. He was always the golden boy – never cursed, never acted disrespectful. Hell, he was a boy scout for years, and all throughout high school he was the team quarterback. He won so many games that he became a local celebrity.

“But, uh… Well. Shit hit the fan the day he turned 18.”

You frowned; you couldn’t picture the crazy, creepy man you’d just been borderline-assaulted by as a popular, polite teenager.

“What happened when he turned 18?” you asked.

Earl hesitated, wringing his hands. For a pregnant pause, he didn’t say anything, but finally he took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t personally have anything against the guy,” he finally huffed. “But even I get the creeps when I’m around him. That boy, he was never the same after that fourth of July. Hell, the town hasn’t been the same since.”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and finally Earl began the story.

“Steve’s folks were a nice couple. He was their only kid, so each year, Sarah and Joseph would throw Steve this big birthday party. I’m talkin’ fireworks, barbeque, the whole nine yards. But his 18th birthday outdid them all; the whole town practically showed up for it.

“But Steve was off the entire day; I think he was sick or something. He was real sweaty, and his eyes were all…red. Like he’d been scratchin’ at ‘em. And when the fireworks started goin’ off… The boy lost it.

“It was like a flip switched in him; next thing we knew, he was takin’ off into the woods, holdin’ his head like his skull was gonna split in two. His mama went runnin’ after him, and then his pops went to get ‘em after about five minutes or so when there was no sign of them comin’ back.

“After half an hour, we went searchin’ for ‘em, and it wasn’t till dawn that we found the three of them.”

Earl took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand as he recalled the memory.

“I was in the team that found his parents, and… Hon, they were butchered. The bodies, they were hardly recognizable. Big bites had been taken outta them; blood was everywhere. Another team found Steve about half a mile away, completely naked and shivering by the river.”

“Oh, my god,” you murmured. “That’s… That’s horrible.”

Your friend nodded gravely, but he wasn’t done yet.

“We all figured that it was a coyote that got ‘em,” he continued. “Or a wolf. But Steve… He was in shock, you see, so take what I’m about to say with a grain o’ salt. But all the way to the police station, he kept sayin’… He kept sayin’, ‘I didn’t mean to kill them… I didn’t mean to kill them.’

“O’ course, no one really believed him; it was clear that an animal had gotten to them, and this was Steve Rogers we were talking about. The kid had never said an unkind word to anyone. And his family got along great.

“A few years passed, and Steve was never the same, but we expected as much. Everyone was still nice to him, and he tried for a while, you know? But then Peggy moved into town.”

“Who’s Peggy?”

“She was this real nice girl – British. She moved with her family to the area. Shoot, she was a firecracker. Didn’t take any shit from nobody; the whole town fell in love with her. Including poor ol’ Stevie.

“When the two started dating, we were thrilled for ‘em. Steve was finally starting to act more like himself; you shoulda seen him. The kid was head over heels, and she was the same. About six months went by, and we really thought that they were gonna make it.

“But then…”

Earl swallowed thickly, eyes darting back up to your face before resting once again on his hands.

“Peggy was found one day in the woods, just like Steve’s parents – mauled, butchered…dead.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“No one saw or heard from Steve for years after that. The kid just vanished into thin air without warning. And so soon after Peggy’s death, well… You can imagine the rumors that started flying around about him. Five years went by, and that was when people started hearing and seeing strange things in the woods. And your cottage, it’s right by where the bodies were found; you can’t be more than a quarter of a mile from where they found Peg.

“Eventually, Steve moved back into town, though no one recognized him. He’d always been a skinny, lean kinda guy, but when he moved back, he looked like he does now. And even if he hadn’t changed so much on the outside, no one would’ve recognized the polite young man we’d all watched grow up in this new Steve. He was mean; I can’t tell you how many fights he got in at the bar, or how many times he lashed out at someone just to have an excuse to throw some punches.

“Whatever happened to his family and his girl, he’s never been the same since. And if he really believes what he told you earlier at the soda shop, then he’s finally lost his mind.”

___________

You spent the night at Earl’s house. He and his wife set up their guest bedroom for you, and as you and Sherry ate dinner, Earl called the sheriff. You listened in as he told him everything that Steve had done, including watching you the night before, and after ending the call, Earl gave you the sheriff’s number.

“He said to call him at the first sign of trouble,” Earl instructed. “And he said that he’s gonna head over to Steve’s cabin to have a nice, long talk with him. Don’t you worry; Sheriff Wilson is a tough son of a bitch, and he’s a great man. You’re in good hands with him.”

You thanked the couple profusely, and you were finally able to sleep restfully through the night, knowing that you weren’t alone. You didn’t even mind that you could hear Earl and Sherry’s snoring from all the way down the hall; you hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in days.

The next morning, Sheriff Wilson stopped by after Sherry had served up breakfast, and you had to admit that you did feel better after talking to him.

“So I set everything straight with Steve,” Sam explained. “He said that he’d been drunk that morning at breakfast, and he admitted to saying some things that he regretted. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf, and he said that he would stay away from you from here on out, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable if he moved to a different country altogether, but I’ll take it,” you’d joked weakly, coaxing a laugh out of the sheriff.

“Well, I’ll run it by him the next time we see each other,” he’d chuckled. “But for now, I think you’ll be just fine.”

After helping Sherry clean up from breakfast, you reluctantly got into your car and started back to your cottage, feeling your short-lived relief start to dwindle away as you approached your home. Who’s to say that Steve would stay true to his word? And there was something about the memory of him calling you ‘omega’ that didn’t sit well with you. You had no idea what that meant, but the conviction, the possessive, commanding tone in his voice still made shivers crawl up and down your spine.

Once you stepped into your cottage, you gave each room a cursory once-over, making sure nothing was out of place before plopping down onto your couch with your laptop. You were severely behind on work, and you needed the distraction to calm your nerves.

Before you knew it, the sun was starting to slip over the horizon, and as the evening turned to night, your eyelids started drooping. You’d finally managed to catch up on work, and although it took you until 9 o’clock at night, you were back on schedule with your blog.

Finally giving in to your sleepiness, you stood up and stretched before methodically going around to each door and window, making sure that they were all closed and locked. After once more checking that Steve wasn’t hiding in your wardrobe, shower, or backyard, you relaxed and went into your bedroom, changing into a flannel pajama set before crawling into bed.

Sleep came easily to you that night, but it didn’t stay for long.

_________

It was, once again, just after 3 in the morning when you woke up, although there was something different about this time around. There was an almost electric charge to the air, and it immediately made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You sat up in bed and looked around your room, and even though the curtains were still closed, just as you’d left them, you immediately noticed the smell.

Your hand fell onto your nightstand, blindly fumbling for your phone, but it wasn’t where you’d left it. Panic pierced through you, and you frantically reached for your charging chord, but it was no longer plugged into your cell. There was, however, something new sitting on your bedside table, and you flicked your lamp on to see clearly what it was.

Your blood went cold when you saw the paper bag from Earl’s, still filled with your new books, just as you’d left it in the art shop.

“I’d been meaning to give that back to you.”

A scream tore itself out of your lips, and your hand flew up to clap over your mouth as you turned to the man now leaning in your doorway.

Steve was watching you with an amused smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His hair was wild, and you noticed the way his chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. He looked…unhinged, and Earl’s voice started ringing in your ears, telling you all the gory details about the deaths that had followed this man through his life.

“Steve, please,” you begged, pressing your back against your headboard. “I don’t know what you want-“

“Oh, c’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a smart girl; I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

With that, he pushed off of the wall and sauntered towards you, ignoring the way you trembled as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I read your blog, by the way,” he remarked. “I actually liked it; you’ve got a talent with writing.”

You gulped, not sure what to say as he turned to face you. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes, something other than the smug cynicism that usually dwelled there, but he looked away before you could get a good look at it.

“I’m sure Earl told you a lot of things about me,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry that’s how you had to hear them. But I’m not… I don’t want to hurt you. Honestly.”

“Wow, that really puts me at ease,” you grumbled. “It definitely makes the fact that you’ve broken into my house twice now totally ok.”

Steve huffed, and annoyance crossed his handsome features.

“Careful, omega,” he grunted. “I’m trying to be nice, here.”

You wanted to snap at him that he should really try harder, then, but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that you didn’t want to anger him if you didn’t have to.

“…Why do you keep calling me that?” you instead asked, and the fire in his gaze cooled just a bit.

“…I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he finally sighed. “And I can understand why this all sounds so crazy; if I were in your situation, I would probably think the same thing. But just… hear me out, ok? I’m going to tell you everything I know.”

You nodded, hugging your knees to your chest, and after another deep breath he began.

“I used to be normal, or so I thought,” he began. “I used to be like you; I didn’t know what was out there. I didn’t know that certain legends that we’ve all learned to accept as fiction were actually based on fact. But that all changed on my 18th birthday.

“That was the day that I first turned into a wolf.” Steve paused, looking pained for a moment, but after swallowing thickly he continued. “I had no clue what was happening to me. I just felt…wrong, like I was being torn apart from the inside. I fought to keep control of myself, but… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“People got hurt; I’m sure you’ve been told all the gritty details. But that wasn’t… It wasn’t me. I tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to keep it inside, bottled up, but eventually I couldn’t hold back anymore. And that was when I left.

“I went looking for people like me. It took me a while, but eventually I found a small group of them in New York. They called themselves the Howling Commandos.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head.

“Not the name I would’ve chosen, but they were good people. They helped me control it, taught me how to remain myself even when I’m in my other form. And I learned more about what it means to be a, uh…

“Werewolf.”

You bit your lip, staring at him as you grew even more fearful; he believed this. You could tell by the way his eyes were glistening with barely-contained tears, and if you weren’t so terrified of him, you would feel sorry for how sad he looked.

“Steve, you… you must realize that this is hard for me to believe, right? I mean… This isn’t Twilight; this is the real world.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of that book.

“There’s about a thousand things wrong with that fucking story, and I’ll die mad about it,” he muttered under his breath, and you hugged yourself tighter as he stood up.

“You want me to prove it to you? Fine.”

Steve stood still for a long moment, closing his eyes, and you found your gaze straying to the door behind his back. He was distracted, evidently focused on transforming into a fucking wolf, oblivious to you as you slowly moved to set your feet on the floor.

Now is your moment, your brain whispered, and after taking a deep breath, you leapt to your feet. You didn’t notice the way his skin was slowly starting to grow patches of blonde fur, nor did you register that his voice had become more of an animalistic growl as he realized that you were trying to run. You were solely focused on making it out alive.

The back door was closer to you than the front, and you could practically feel Steve’s breath on the back of your neck as he gave chase, and so you nearly yanked the door off of its rusty, old hinges as you went flying out onto the back porch. You just barely managed to close the door behind you, and right before it slammed shut, you were able to make out an open maw filled with sharp teeth. The same thumping you’d heard several nights ago sounded from within your home, but with the way the wood was creaking and splintering, you knew it wouldn’t keep Steve trapped inside for long.

You began to run towards your car, but with a curse you realized that your keys were still resting on your coffee table inside the cottage, and you wouldn’t go back inside there if someone offered you a million dollars to. So, fully aware of what a terrible idea it was, you started running down the length of your gravel driveway, the small stones and twigs digging into your feet until you felt them starting to grow slick with blood.

You didn’t get far at all before you heard the sound of a low, deep howl split the silence of the night, and you pumped your legs even faster when you heard heavy footfalls starting to give chase behind you. Frantically, you turned and made a beeline for the forest, hoping to lose him in the woods. Low branches and brambles clawed at your face, and the cuts on your feet burned so bad that tears started rolling down your cheeks.

It was simultaneously an eternity and a millisecond before you felt a massive weight crash into you from behind, and with a cry you fell onto your belly. Your arms and legs scrambled about as you tried to crawl away, but you stopped with another scream when a set of impossibly sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder. Even though they didn’t cut deep, it was still enough to scare you into submission, and you immediately went still as your captor panted above you.

Your chest rose and fell as you fought to catch your breath, but it felt as if your heart had stopped beating entirely when you chanced a look to your right and saw…a paw. A huge, sandy-blonde paw about the size of your head was planted in the mud right next to your neck. You turned, and on your left side was the same thing.

Slowly, you rolled over onto your back, and you found yourself face to face with the wolf from before, only this time, you were close enough to see its blue eyes clearly – Steve’s eyes.

“…Steve?” you breathed.

Before your disbelieving eyes, the animal hovering over you started to shift and change, morphing gradually back into the man who’d terrorized you so much up to this point. Except now, as he straddled your hips, completely nude, you knew that he’d been right all along.

“Still think I’m crazy?” he panted, still out of breath from the chase.

“I… How…”

“I tried to tell you,” he grumbled, leaning down. You squirmed when you felt him press his nose to your neck, nuzzling it as he inhaled deeply, and you whimpered when his cock twitched against your thigh. “God, you have no idea what your scent does to me.”

You made a small noise of protest when his tongue darted out, laving over a spot right under your jaw.

“I thought it was too good to be true, you know,” he groaned, and you let out a noise that was dangerously close to a moan as you realized you could smell him once again. “I thought that people had to be a werewolf to be an alpha or an omega, but as soon as I smelled you in the art shop… Fuck, I knew you were mine.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to protest, but you were silenced when Steve nipped at your neck.

“We both know that’s not true,” he chided. “We both know what my scent does to you.”

Steve dragged his teeth down the side of your neck, and you shivered at the sensation. You wanted to fight this; you didn’t want to give in to him. But something inside of you refused to do anything but lay there beneath him, panting as he tasted your skin.

“I’ve never been with an omega before,” he confessed. “The Commandos told me they were incredibly rare, a dying breed just like me. But fate must have brought us together for a reason.”

“I’m… I’m not an omega,” you insisted, but a soft mewl fell out of your lips when he ground his hips forward, the line of his cock sliding up the length of your clothed pussy.

“Then why do you have a mating gland?” he rasped, his tongue darting out to lick at a spot on your neck.

“A what?” you squeaked, but suddenly his hands were on your hips, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. His palms groped your ass, and suddenly you felt your pajamas being pulled down until they pooled around your knees.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Steve growled.

No, no, no. Your thoughts were swirling rapidly as Steve’s fingers slid down your spine. You didn’t want this; you weren’t an omega; Steve was crazy.

Why does your body want this so bad?

You couldn’t find the strength to try and crawl away when Steve’s hands left you, but your eyes widened when he suddenly spread your legs wider apart. The cold night air was icy against your cunt and your thighs, and when the warmth of his hands finally returned to your body, you couldn’t hold in your moan.

“That’s right, omega,” he panted, his hand reaching down to cup your pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet; it’s already dripping down your thighs…”

Your pussy made an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as he pushed his finger inside, and your body’s reaction started drowning out your brain. As he thrust his finger in and out, your hips started pushing back against him as white noise echoed in your ears.

“Mmm,” you whined, clenching your teeth. “M-more, fuck-“

“More?” Steve cooed. “You want more?”

You nodded your head, and a gasp parted your lips as he added another finger, curling it in a way that had you seeing stars. Your legs spread wider, and you dropped to your elbows, pushing back in time with his hand.

“This is what you need,” he growled. “You need your alpha to take care of you, don’t you? To use your pretty little cunt and fill you up with my seed. Ain’t that right, doll?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, feeling your walls start to flutter around him.

All too soon, though, he pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. You burrowed your face into your arms and whined at the loss, but a few seconds later, Steve was gripping your hips. You could feel his fully hard length against your ass, and your breath caught in your throat upon feeling how big it was.

“W-wait-“

Steve shushed you, tangling one of his hands in your hair as the tip of his cock glided through your folds, brushing against your clit.

“It’s ok, omega,” he whispered. “Just lay back and take it.”

With that, his head pressed against your entrance, and your lips parted in a silent scream as he impaled you. Your cervix ached as his dick pressed against it, and you were vaguely aware of the broken moans falling out of your lips.

“Fuck, doll,” your alpha breathed, and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Feels so good, so fucking good. My good girl…”

You groaned when he drew his hips back and thrust forward again, jarring your whole body with the movement. Your teeth clenched together as he found his rhythm, the initial stretch still burning. You’d never felt anything like this before, and the pain was mixing with your pleasure until you couldn’t tell one from the other.

Slowly, as the minutes went by, your abused cunt started to adjust, and your moans became less and less strained as you once more felt pleasure start to crest within you.

“That’s it,” Steve praised, pushing your hair away so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. “Just relax; let your alpha make you feel good.”

You whimpered as he started thrusting faster, his hips snapping as deep, gravelly growls spilled out of his throat. Your own moans filled the air as you once again felt your orgasm build up inside of you. Your pussy walls contracted and fluttered as you got closer and closer, and Steve’s hand came down hard on your ass.

“Go ahead, omega,” he commanded. “Cum for me; don’t hold back. Give it to me; let me feel it. Cum for me-“

With a wail, your body did as it was commanded, and you trembled as you reached your climax. Your cunt squeezed his cock as he slowed his thrusts, and your hips moved of their own accord as you rode it out. Quiet, hoarse moans were still trailing out of your mouth as you came down from your high, and Steve’s beard tickled your skin as he pressed kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you were sickened to realize that you enjoyed his words of encouragement.

You were surprised when he pulled his cock out of you, and you allowed him to flip you over onto your back. His cheeks were flushed, and he was panting, and your eyes trailed down to see his cock still painfully hard.

Without warning, he shoved it back inside of you, and your hands flew up, digging your nails into his back as he once again started thrusting at a brutal pace.

“’M gonna fill your fucking pussy up,” he was moaning, his hair falling into his eyes while his mouth hung open. “Gonna breed you like the little bitch you are-“

Despite having just cum, shocks of pleasure spread through you as he filled you, and in this position, you could watch his muscles bulge and flex as he chased his release. His eyes were squeezed shut, and one of his hands was pawing and kneading at your breast as he used the other to support his weight. The veins in his neck throbbed as he grew closer and closer, and you were taken off guard to find that you were approaching your second climax with him.

“You already gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered. “Do it. Give it to me; I want it.”

You closed your eyes and arched up, frenzied moans of yes, please, God, more, I need more, spilling past your lips almost unintelligibly. You were so close – just a little more and you would be pushed over the edge.

Just before you could reach it, though, Steve’s eyes snapped open, focusing on your neck hungrily. You should have felt fear, knowing what he was, what had happened to his parent and his last lover. But instinct took over, and you found yourself tilting your head back, baring your neck to him in a sign of submission.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, and you shrieked as his teeth pierced your skin, right where he’d claimed earlier your ‘mating gland’ was. You closed your eyes, expecting to feel your life fade away, ready to see blood spurting up from the wound. But that never happened; no, instead you felt as if you’d just been electrified. Every sensation you were feeling was suddenly amplified tenfold, and your vision went black as you came for the second time.

Your ears were ringing, but you were still able to hear the primal roar that Steve let out as he came, painting your inner walls with his seed as hips finally slowed to a stop. For several long seconds, the two of you were perfectly still save for your chests as they rose and fell with your heavy breathing. Steve’s cock began to soften inside of you, but he made no move to pull away. No, instead he collapsed over you, his head resting against your chest as his heated skin shielded you from the cold air.

“You were perfect,” you heard him whisper, and one of his fingers came up to trace the bite mark he’d left behind on your neck. “Your bond scar is gonna be so gorgeous, little omega.”

Sleep threatened to overtake you as you lay there, not truly processing Steve’s words as his weight atop you lulled you towards sleep.

“Go ahead and rest, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll carry you back home, and then we can go again. Don’t worry, doll; I won’t stop until you’re nice and round with my babies.”

You should have felt scared – you should have pulled away and ran into the woods. But instead, you let out a content noise of acknowledgement before doing just as he said. The last thing you registered before slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber was his arms as they wrapped around you and picked you up, carrying you away from the road and into the forest.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #dark!steve rogers x reader #werewolf #werewolf!steve #alpha!steve #omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au #werewolf au

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Death Threats

Summary: What if the people threatening Barba went after you, too?

Warnings: Angst. Injury. Fluff. (I realized the timing puts this in the episode Heartfelt Passages, so that was a busy day for poor Rafi.)

Dedicated to @teamsladsandgents for inspiring me to get stabby.

2,256 words

You thought he punched you, the man in the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors chimed open and he was striding quickly but casually from the building that you realized you were bleeding.

The inch-wide slit in your shirt took a moment to start bleeding in earnest as you stood in shock, time frozen along with your body. Then thick, dark amounts of it began streaming through your fingers.

The elevator doors were sliding shut before you thought to stumble out with your last ounce of strength—to scream for help—before your body sank to the ground, leaving you alone in your metal coffin. You tried to sit up again, but it hurt and made more blood come out.

You couldn’t reach the elevator buttons.

You were so tired.

The funny thing was, you weren’t afraid. Just disappointed. You always thought you’d turn into an action hero if you were attacked—that adrenaline would awaken some ferocious, hitherto unseen warrior within, like Jason Bourne.

But it all happened so fast.

It was over before you noticed a blade in his hand. Over before you processed that he had said something to you, just before that dull punch in your gut.

“That ADA you’re fucking sticks his nose in the wrong people’s business.”

It was strange that you weren’t thinking about your mom or your best friend of ten years. As you pressed as hard as you could to stem the bleeding, you didn’t see your whole life flash before your eyes. The only thing on your mind was your boyfriend of the last several months, the sarcastic lawyer who kept so many walls up, and the petty argument you got into earlier about his canceling lunch plans again.

None of it seemed real. Didn’t seem like the way the story of your life ought to end—bleeding out in an elevator.

It was getting hard to concentrate on what to do next.

OK. The buttons wouldn’t work. Too far to reach.

No one can hear you scream.

Phone.

Your phone was in your pocket, but you had to take one of your hands off of clamping your gut to reach it. Blood streamed through your fingers—so much blood from such a small hole. Your hand was too slick with it and shaking to grab hold of the phone. If you could get it, you could call 911.

“Work, you fucking hand,” you thought. You thought that was an undignified last thought. It should be something profound. Poetic.

But no. Your last thought was going to be swearing at a Samsung.

Tired.

You never remembered if you managed to get the phone from your pocket or not. It didn’t matter anymore.

The last thing you remembered thinking about was Rafael finding out you were gone, his eyes red from mourning. Blaming himself. You wished you could tell him… If you died, you wouldn’t be there to cup his cheek, to make him smile again. To tell him what you whispered to the dark elevator, alone.

“It’s not your fault, Rafi.”

***

The man’s name was Felipe Heredio, a lieutenant of the BX9 street gang. There was already a warrant out for his arrest when he stabbed you. ADA Rafael Barba identified him in a lineup as the man who was stalking him only an hour after a neighbor found you lying in a pool of blood. The fact that he was already in police custody might have been relieving to you if you were conscious. You might have felt proud that it was Barba who ensured he was arrested.

And your heart might have broken when Barba’s phone rang, and his entire world stopped.

***

Rafael’s eyes were red from crying when you woke up with oxygen tubes in your nose, and your hand cradled in his. Your throat hurt more than anything else, oddly, which you would later learn was from being intubated for surgery.

The first word you croaked upon regaining consciousness was, “Sorry.”

A collection of empty coffee cups was scattered around the feet of his chair so he could stand vigil for however long you had been out. His eyes were not only red and wet, but bulging with that jittery, over-tired, caffeine anxiety.

You knew how busy Rafael was. That it was a weekday (technically, it was already tomorrow), and he’d have court in the morning. What you didn’t know, because he didn’t want to weigh you down with his world, was that Barba had already mourned one death today, and that one more loss might break him.

You were sorry for causing him so much trouble.

Rafael was having none of it, of course. He tried to keep his voice from shaking when he told you, “Why in god’s name would you be sorry?” followed by barking, “Stop that—don’t try to sit up. Nurse!”

His bedside manner was well and truly atrocious.

The next hour was a dizzying blur of nurses checking your vitals and helping you use the bathroom, then answering a uniformed officer whose questions you could barely understand through the morphine haze.

When it became clear what had happened and why, Rafael became unusually quiet. All of his follow-up questions and complaints of, “is this really necessary? Can’t you do this later?” fell away. He slumped in the visitor’s chair beside your bed, his hand still holding yours, but in pensive silence until the officer finished, leaving you alone except for the security detail at the door.

Then the apologies came. The heavy confessions that he’d been receiving threats for a year, and this was all, all his fault. Admittedly, if it weren’t for the morphine drip dulling everything, you might have been pissed off that he knew this might happen and kept it to himself. He kept so much to himself, you had to read about his cases online to know what was going on in his life. But his face—which you always thought babyish, with his smooth cheeks and lips ever-ready to flash a sarcastic smirk—was drawn, making him look old and haggard. He was too serious, too raw to possibly blame him.

“I’m so sorry for putting you in danger. I never should have gotten you involved in this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he choked. “I’ve been getting threats since I indicted those cops, and I haven’t exactly been on… anyone’s good side. I should never have started dating you.”

Like a slap in the face, that sting made it through the morphine. You jerked your hand out of his.

“That came out wrong. It’s true, though. I was selfish to think I could…” He gave a melancholy sigh as he sank back in the chair. “It will be safer if we keep our distance from now on. This will never happen to you again.”

You never imagined you could get stabbed and have your heart broken on the same day, or that the latter would hurt worse.

“Then what are you even doing here?!”

“I had to know you were OK. But as long as I’m getting death threats—”

“Wait, wait. You’re saying you’d rather give up being with me than give up a legal battle with powerful enemies?”

His eyes widened and he stared like a deer in the headlights, only where the deer was an insensitive workaholic, and the headlights were the blinding rays of truth. It wasn’t even a surprise that he hadn’t thought of it that way—this was every fight he’d had with an ex just before they broke up with him.

“I, uh—”

You grabbed his face and dragged him down into the softest kiss, which was not what he was expecting. He almost yelped (though it melted into a whine) when his fiery hot, coffee-flavored lips hit your cool ones. When he pulled back, lips wet and parted, his brow furrowed in confusion over still-widened eyes.

“You are… the sweetest.” Your hand lingered on his cheek as you gave a doped-up-on-painkillers smile. “The most selfless, noble… bravest… amazing man I have ever met. I love you so much.”

“I… what?”

“Rafael”—your thumb lazily stroked his cheek—“I know how much you care about me. Even though you’re married to your job and it’s frustrating as hell sometimes, I’ve never been insecure that you don’t love me enough. I know you never tell me about your cases because you want me to be able to sleep at night. You worry about me too much. And you always look so nervous whenever I leave, like you think I’m never coming back this time.

“So the fact that you would sacrifice your own happiness before you’d let an injustice go unanswered… that’s incredible. You do nothing but give a voice to the voiceless all day, working yourself to the bone without considering the cost to your personal life. You’re like a superhero, ADA Barba.”

A short breath of a laugh escaped his lips as his hand came up to the side of his face to cover yours. His eyes were watery, and he looked like he was about to break down again as he bitterly whispered, “A superhero who almost got you killed.”

“I’m not leaving you, you know.”

“Cariño. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t—couldn’t…”

“Nothing’s going to happen. It’ll be OK. I’m not leaving you alone.”

A tear wavered precariously close to the rim of his eyelid until he turned away, rubbing his face. It was gone when he turned back. “You could have died because of my fucking work! I’ve never given you the time you deserve. How do you still want to be around me?”

“Hey, someone has to be there to protect you when you get yourself in trouble,” you grinned.

Rafael Barba couldn’t take any more. He bent over the hospital bed and wrapped his arms around you, doing his best not to snag any of the many tubes coming out of you or put any weight on anything below your diaphragm, but hugging you to him as tightly as he could. You felt his trembling breathing in your hair, and hot wet spots pooling on your neck.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Your free arm closed over his back, stroking his broad, tense muscles through his shirt. “I’m really glad I didn’t die,” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to feel scared now that he was here. “I didn’t want to die yet. Not like that.”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed in, and his arms tightened protectively. “You have no idea how terrified I was. I’m so sorry…”

“Shh,” you whispered. You clung to him, soothed by his familiar cedar and citrus scent, fainter now after a long, harrowing day, mixed with the masculine smell of sweat.

“I’m glad you’re alive, too. I can’t lose you. I can’t. I love you more than anything.”

Soon—too soon, because you wanted to continue talking—you drifted to sleep in his arms. And once again too soon, you woke up with your entire abdomen on fire, and nurses bringing you pain medication. Rafael was still there, half asleep next to you in the narrow bed.

He didn’t leave you.

Even if it put you in danger, he would rather be beside you, making sure you were OK than cutting you out of his life and hoping the bad guys got the memo. He couldn’t put you through that pain, even if he could do it to himself. Especially when you pondered aloud to him whether you’d survived because you were thinking about him—that you refused to die before seeing him again, knowing what a wreck he would be.

Recovery was long, and interspersed with doing nothing but fall asleep when you’d rather stay awake, and not being able to sleep at all. Rafael (and his security detail) moved into your apartment when you were released from the hospital so he could take care of you—as grumpy and bossy and sarcastic as his bedside manner might be.

You swore you were going to sign up for Krav Maga or Cobra Kai or something once you could exercise again, since apparently you were not a secret knife-fighting ninja deep down. Next time, you wanted to be a badass who could fight back, and never let anyone harm your overzealous ADA when he kicked the hornet’s nest.

Eventually, you would convince him that it wasn’t his fault that bad guys had acted like bad guys. And he would convince you that taking care of you wasn’t a burden—that the emergency time off from work was worth it. He started replacing “sorry” with “I love you.”

In the end, while you wouldn’t say being stabbed was a good thing, or that you’d choose to be stabbed again if you had the option, it did ensure Heredio was put away for a long, long time. It left you with a cool scar, and a new catchphrase for expressing your displeasure—“I’d rather be stabbed again than do the dishes!”

Fine, it also left you jumpy and made your chest tight whenever you found yourself alone in an elevator.

But most importantly, it brought down the walls Rafael had been keeping up around himself. He talked to you more. You talked to each other more. And he remembered to—on occasion—take time out of his heroic, selfless life of battling injustice, and selfishly spend it with you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @delia26 / @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes / @storiesofsvu

#Rafael Barba #Rafael Barba x Reader #my writing

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dumpsiteforfics · 3 years

Text

Missing Piece

Fandom : Criminal minds

Pairing : Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Genre : angst and fluff probably? At least happy ending lmao!

Warnings : 16 years age difference, but both are well above legal age. Just heads-up, it references all our important Hotch reid moments from seasons 1 to 3.

This is just a oneshot? Or drabble probably which I wanted to write after reading this prompt! The section which is in bold and italics is copied as it as from prompt!!

******†******

"I love you Aaron, and I want to be with you!!"

Those were the words Aaron never thought he would hear, not from this person that he was so in love with! Spencer Reid was epitome of everything Aaron ever wanted from his life, and everything he never thought he deserved to have! He can't pinpoint the exact moment it all started, but he can remember the exact moment he realised he had fallen for the younger man.

It was in that grave all those years ago, when he was helping Spencer get up after shooting Tobias Hankel, a name he would never forget! He had never been this scared for someone else's life before, and that's saying something because with the job he had, there were so many lives he saved on a routine basis. But he could still remember in detail how his chest felt like someone had put bricks on it, how his brain was in constant thoughts of what if they lose their agent, what if they lose Spencer? Their youngest agent, he was so young!! And he was in the hands of a psychopath and he had still fought the mad man, despite being beaten, being kidnapped and tortured at some remote location away from any help, he somehow fought back and used his brain to get help.

And when Aaron pulled Spencer up and into his arms, he felt like his missing piece was found. That hug lasted just for a few seconds but Aaron felt eternal gratitude in those moments. And then Spencer gasped out, I knew you would understand!!

And Aaron still wakes up from nightmares where he somehow fails to understand Spencer's clue and that results in the horrific death of the younger man. And Aaron lays awake, gasping and shuddering, struggling to calm himself and trying hard not to dial Spencer's number just to confirm that he is indeed alive.

And then Chester Hardwick came and he had the audacity to threaten Spencer in front of him, and Aaron would never let anyone get away with that. And he was so ready to kill Hardwick with his bare hands but Spencer, yet again saved them.

Just like all those years ago when he killed Philip Dowd and saved Aaron, like how he killed Tobias and saved Aaron, he yet again saved Aaron again this time by making use of his sharp tongue and unstoppable brain.

And the words that Aaron never wanted to let out, poured out of his mouth as he admitted his relationship problems to Spencer.

What I want, I'm never going to get!!

But now, Spencer is standing in front of him, they have just wrapped up the bombing case and he had said goodbye to Kate with a heavy heart, just one more person he lost to this job.

He came back home to find Spencer waiting for him. Aaron was worried to see Spencer with this Haunted look in his eyes. They went inside and before he could ask him anything Spencer was spilling out his every feeling.

He had never seen Spencer like this, so desperate, so needy, so fiercely wanting… And all Aaron wants is to pull the younger man in his arms and just escape from the reality that's keeping them apart! But he can't. No matter what they want, they have to think carefully. Spencer, even with his gifted IQ and old soul, is still just so much younger than him. 16 years. That's too many years in between, probably a generation gap you can call even.

And Aaron is thinking about those predators they hunt, those who prey on younglings. Was he one of those? Was he attracted to Spencer's pretty face and young age? No! He was attracted to Spencer's heart, the heart that never stopped giving despite never receiving much love, he was attracted to Spencer's courage that made the man so much more admirable than he already was, he was attracted to Spencer's mind, too beautiful despite the fractures it might bore in future, he was attracted to Spencer's soul, kindest despite the horrors he sees everyday.

But he should try to lay all the cards down, he is old , he is just a boring agent who has trouble expressing his emotions! He is an agent who is more dedicated to his job and all the unknown faces who need saving than his own family. He is a man who will never think twice before jumping into fire if it meant he could save someone's life. And he tries to portray it through words!

Spencer is just listening, his heart so easily readable through those hazel eyes and Aaron has to keep looking somewhere else to continue talking.

"Spencer, I appreciate your feelings, and I do return them! God! I have been returning them probably even before I realised I had feelings for you. But, we can't be together. We are too different, you are too young and I'm just too old. You have this life waiting for you whereas I have already been through my half. I don't want to tie you down to me when you have so much more to live for. So much time which I might even not have. The thing about time is, the older you get, the faster it goes,” he said. “Tomorrow, you will be my age, and I will be dead.”

And Spencer looks up in Aaron's eyes, understanding everything words could never explain.

"But Aaron, I don't even have you to lose. You are just so out of my reach despite the efforts I take to be closer! I don't care about your age Aaron, I don't care how short or long life we might have unless it's together! I yearn for you Aaron! Do you even know how much?"

"And you are talking about dying when we both know we have probably equal chances of dying tomorrow with the job we have. We understand each other Aaron, there is this deep understanding which stems from never-ending trust that we have on each other. I gave you a clue even when I was delirious from drugs and wasn't even sure you'll be listening, and you understood it Aaron. And you think we should just let go of this beautiful bond because of something as trivial as age gap? I would've understood it if I was underage or just barely 20, but Aaron I'm in my thirties and I'm yet to find a person who came as close to understanding me as you do!"

Spencer is all but sniffing now, and Aaron's heart breaks all over again.

"I don't give a shit about the reasons why we should not be together Aaron, I only care about one reason why we should be! And that's, I love you as much as you love me back! And that should be enough! For once, let that be enough reason Aaron, let us be enough for each other!! "

And Aaron couldn't stop his heart from skipping a beat. Let us be enough for each other! Wasn't that what Aaron wanted his entire life? To be enough for someone? And he is maybe getting it now, and what does he have to lose anyways?

He took a shuddering breath before saying, "Well I have given you enough chances to back out of it, now you don't get more chances. You are going to have to be in my life, as my whole heart till the day I die."

And then the wide smile he got in response made his heart almost stop but he decided if he could die now, at least he'll die happy.

Before he could spend more time muling over those unnecessary thoughts Spencer pulled him in a hug, his arms going around Aaron's shoulder as Aaron's own looped around his waist. And there was that feeling again, like he found his missing piece!!!

#heid #hotchreid #hotch x reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #criminal minds #my fic #angst #sorry for all grammatical mistakes #i literally wrote it on my mobile in an hour #and english isn't ny first language

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keltonwrites · 3 years

Text

I bought a house in the middle of nowhere

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.” It was something akin to that, at least. He didn’t mean any mischief, no deceit or planning. It was an honest take on what, at the time, was true. I saw the road into town on Google Maps, noted that it was closed during the winter, acknowledged the reality that a person can own a snowmobile, and I said, “we are not moving there.” But, all good truths are just dares in the making.

And here I am, living in the “there” I said I would not. Two years ago, I left my job at Headspace for a life reset. It was pre-pandemic, and Ben and I were planning a big road trip. Our perfect paradise in Topanga, CA, had crystallized itself as many people’s perfect paradise, and those “many people” all had more money than us. Our options to buy a home were nil, and home-buying was essentially all we wanted. Ben’s a builder and I’m a world builder, and we wanted somewhere to invest that didn’t belong to someone else. We packed the car with the tent and the bikes and the dog and all the things that come with tents and bikes and dogs, and off we went on our own Tour de l’Ouest, looking for a place to call home. We knew what we wanted, knew our odds of finding it, and hit the road anyway. Here was the dream list — concocted by two pie-in-the-sky dummies who married each other:

Not rainy or consistently windy

Notable access to the arts

Remote and challenging to get to/close neighbors

Wild West influenced architecture

Progressive community

Exceptional trail access out the front door

High-speed internet

In our budget

And my personal favorite: had to “feel right” Good luck to us with a list like that, but thus began our hunt. We camped in the snow, tried every dirty chai in the Rockies, and explored every town we could. Whatever a good time it was, it felt useless. Every town Ben was OK with, I hated. Every town I was OK with, Ben despised. And the few places we both loved required money we just didn’t have. We came home with our sails down, limping into the harbor of our rental. But as is the way with romantics, our dreams began to slowly eclipse our reality. Books fell victim to Zillow and Trulia. TV was replaced by the MLS. All writing time was dedicated to Realtor.com. Hours were spent pouring over maps, county records, and updating spreadsheets that tracked price per square foot compared to beds and baths. Over time, all that internetting led to one singular town of 180 people at 10,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado with a road that said “Closed Winters” on Google Maps. Look, I don’t know what happened. Ben found this town on a map, I said don’t be ridiculous, and after a year or so of him telling people I'd never move here, here I am, being ridiculous. Was it reverse psychology? Maybe. Was it the charming “town plan” that mandated all houses be rustic cabins and forbade AirBnB? Could be. Was it the fact that when I looked at Strava’s Heatmap, it showed what seemed like thousands of miles of trails just out the front door? I mean, yes. All these things played a part, but all I know for certain is that one day I woke up and said, “we’re going to move there.” Ben doubted this conviction (and the realities behind it) thus cementing it into place in my head. In a town of 180 people there’s only ~60 houses, which means maybe 2 or 3 get listed per year — but my spreadsheet had the proof: we hadn’t missed our chance yet in this tiny town. The data showed a strong likelihood there would be at least two houses listed within the calendar year. This, however, was also our last chance. The spreadsheet also showed that if we didn’t find a house this year, we wouldn’t be able to afford one the next. We called a realtor, made our case, and harangued her until she believed us that we were truly the kind of yahoos who would move to an avalanche field and stay there. And then it happened. A pocket listing. It was a darling home built in 1890. It had the beds, the baths, and the views. We were the first and only to know. We put in an offer, they agreed, and we would come to see the house in a few weeks. But in those few weeks, the circumstances changed. The sellers lost their own sweet deal, and they couldn’t sell yet. Their agent promised we had right of first refusal, it was only a matter of time. Ben lamented, I preached patience, and we went to see the house that was no longer for sale anyway.

It was a quiet winter morning in Covid when we drove across the packed snow to meet our realtor outside the house. The sun was out and the 13 degrees Fahrenheit felt warm. I unzipped my jacket, mask on my face. I took long videos and talked about where I would set up my office and where we’d put the bikes. As we closed up and I settled into a future where this house would eventually be mine, our realtor told us there were comps in the area — other residents quietly interested in potentially closing out. Would we like to see them? Sure, let’s.

One home came with an incredible commercial kitchen. The whole house was a whopping 3500 sq ft if my memory serves me correct, which falls under the category of “houses too big to find your cat in."

Another home had an open-air-to-the-kitchen bathroom.

The third was dark and overpriced with cracked windows and open beer cans scattered about.

And then, plans changed. “Hey guys, there’s actually one more house we can see.” The last house we saw was a log cabin, nestled in the hillside by itself, with massive A-frame windows looking out onto the peaks beyond. Inside was a labyrinth of a life lived long and large. The cabin was built and loved by a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was 82, and as we walked toward the front door on that sunny winter morning, he exited with two beers in his pockets, headed to the mountain to ski. Jack was an attorney — in his life he’d been both criminal and defender — and from the stories, somewhat interchangeably. There were artifacts from running in the same scenes as Hunter S. Thompson and Willie Nelson; there were stuffed birds, bad books, sheet-covered couches, smoked spliffs, and piles and piles of mouse shit. Every inch of the house was lived in, and not just by people. You think millennials like plants? No. This man likes plants. The biggest monstera deliciosa I’ve ever seen, spanning some 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall. Draping cactuses, spider plants, massive aloes, and an ambitious hoya carnosa clawing its way to the top of the massive fireplace. But there were problems. I’m trying to be diplomatic saying the house was lived in. The wood by the door handles was dyed black from years of hand grease rubbing against it. The carpet in the upstairs was soiled almost everywhere with bat scat. Newspaper was stuffed between the massive logs to keep the wind out. There was cardboard taped over almost every window, blankets nailed over the others. Half the doors wouldn’t open. It was unnerving to touch the crusted light switches. It was early enough in the season of Covid-fear that touching anything felt like gambling. On our way back to our rental in the bigger neighboring town, we shared our awe and our no-ways, lamenting how long we’d have to wait for the little 1890s fixer upper. That night, I sent the video I took of the cabin to my parents. “Can you believe this?” I asked. And do you know what my dad said? “Great log construction.” After that, the cabin was all we could talk about. “Could you believe those plants?” “Did you see how big those logs were?” “I just googled Jack, look at this.” “Do you know what the insulating factor of logs is?” “How much did he say he was asking?” It came down to the plants. Amidst all the chaos in that house, the tender care of those decades-old plants sung the clearest. This wasn’t just a place Jack lived in, it was a place that wanted to be lived in. We made an offer the next day.

Jack had six months to clear out his 30 odd years of collecting, and the town had six months to speculate about the worrisome Californians moving to their high-altitude, high-risk town. The town itself is an old mining town. It rests in a high valley, surrounded by peaks over 13,000ft, and is over six hours from the nearest major airport. Five people died around this town in avalanches this past year. The dirt road into town is littered with avalanche fields, warning visitors to not stop when driving in. The other way out is a pass road, only drivable in the warm months, but you could skin out if it was dire. Most August days, the high is in the mid-60s. The valley is blanketed in wildflowers, and the aspens littering the mountainsides suggest a promising fall display. The town had a heyday, a low day, and now it’s a community of preppers, adventurers, appreciators, and “get all these idiots away from me”ers. We don’t know these people yet, but the ones we’ve met have the same like to live hard attitude we do. Heli-ski guides, ex-CIA agents, woodworkers, bakers, teachers, just a general can-do group of people. The kind of people that see a California license plate and peer with skepticism between the thin gap over their sunglasses and under their caps.

You might say I’m romanticizing the place, but the residents are worse. Like all good old-timers, they’re full of threats: “wait’ll you see the snow drifts,” “let’s see how you do outrunning an avalanche,” “good luck with the winds,” “the last Californians didn’t last a year.” God, what does that remind me of?

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”

With every taunt, my teeth ground more enamel, fingers rolling into a clench. And maybe Jack recognized this intensity, because on the day of closing, he hosted a gathering for us in the town's open space. He had us introduce ourselves to the skeptical locals, and I made my case in court, eyes narrowed and lips curled. “I’m the daughter of a smokejumper and wildlife biologist. I grew up watching the wind and the door. I’ve lived in big cities, small boats, and more than one cabin. I always take the stairs, I never use air-conditioning, and I’m a very good shot.” I’m just a girl, standing in front of a town, asking them to give her a fucking chance. Jack stepped forward to speak. “You know, I had my doubts about a couple Californians coming to look at my house. But these people? These are the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet.” And then I helped Jack set up his cot so he could spend his last night under the stars in the town that kept him young. Cooper ran circles with the other dogs. People brought homemade cocktails and bowls of dip and we felt welcomed. Even the mayor, a fellow writer, came and she struck up a conversation. “I hear you’ve got a little bit of a following on social media!” She teased. “I guess, nothing wild.” “Well I just wanted to let you know if you ever geotag this town, I’ll drag you out of it.” She grinned. This was a special place. And every visitor who couldn’t handle the realities of being here threatened the very wellbeing of the people who lived here. This town survives on a delicate balance. They source their own water, manage their own roads, and fervently protect the land and the people around them. Their stories about racing avalanches, snowmobiling in the dark of night to the doctor’s house, hunkering down in each other’s homes as the storms pass — these stories were bylaws. You can join when you’ve proven you’re ready to join. By their own projection, they are hardy and steadfast people, and when they see a Californian, they see something fleeting. Many years ago, I worked in the British Virgin Islands. The people born and raised there were called Belongers. At the customs office, the placards above the lines literally read, “If you belong, stand here” and “If you do not belong, stand here.” Whether or not we belong isn't up to the town council, and it's not up to these residents. It's up to years spent drifting my old Mustang in the snow on the way to school, up to Ben's months and months spent in the backcountry, up to my years of reading fire reports and assisting with evacuations, up to Ben's ability to read the landscape and the weather, up to my doggedness, his diligence, and our pathological love to do difficult things well. It’s up to us, to these old logs, and to this valley. Doesn't mean we'll belong, but it does mean we'll try. And for the record, the road is open in the winter. But do these sound like the kind of people who’d tell Google that? Next week, a tour of the house that we get to call ours — stuffed with newspaper, run by plants, and filled with mice. P.S. Here's where we get our mail.

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#newsletters #amwriting #relocation #home renovation #cabin life #cabin living #colorado #log cabin

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