#This is mostly just so it's here and it may take me a little time to get any starters done

[hitomisuzuya]

ajdbks omg hi daddy!scara anon here... I LOVED THE FIC BTW MWAH MWAH CHEFS KISS- may i req aftercare with daddy!scara? maybe helpin you clean up in the bath (as he's very insistent on it...) and reader givin him some lovin too.. thanking him for being such a good daddy.. and maybe trying to give him some aftercare too.. (like a massage?) and he gets super flustered by it and lightheartedly grumpy because hes supposed to take care of you, not the other way around !! and it ends with some fluffy playfulness and lots of kisses and i love you's and aaaghh i love this man

scaramouche x fem!reader. a little smut but mostly fluffy fluff fluff aftercare. daddy kink. handjob. modern au

i very glad you enjoyed it🥺 i love scara. like a whole lot.

scaramouche insisted on carrying you to the bath tub, which was filling with pleasantly scented water, bubbles fluffing out on the surfacw. he absolutely knew he is rough with you, and you deserved nothing less than to melt like candle wax and relax while he took care of you afterwards.

the sweet little way you cling to him, your arms looped around his neck and your cheek nuzzling against his collarbone made his heart swell and flutter in his chest. how fucking precious you are.

moments after he gently set you down in the water, and got in the tub with you, you immediately went to him. "you are so good to me, daddy," you said, giving him a soft kiss on his lips.

oh please, go on. he knows how great he is.

"hush, you," he grumbled, his cheeks flushing as he picked up a wash cloth. it should be considered a crime how cute you are. he dabbed at some dried blood around a bite mark on your neck. he slid the wash cloth over your blossoming bruises, admiring his work.

you sighed softly, you eyes drifting closed for a moment. the warm water soothed your sore muscles, sore muscles you never minded. if you didn't feel a little sore, then scaramouche felt he didn't do a thorough enough job. "you always know just what to do."

opening your hazy eyes, you moved through the bubbles behind him. "you always take such good care of me," you wrapped arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder. "let me take of you, daddy," you pressed a gentle kiss on his neck.

"you know this isn't how it works, right?" he said shakily feeling your finger tips brush against his nipple. sure, you are making his cock twitch but damn it, he was supposed to be taking care of you. you giggled, gently pinching his nipple before bringing you hand down between his legs.

"you sneaky little," he moaned softly, precum leaking onto his cock head as you massaged it with your thumb. he leaned back against you, rutting into your hand as you stroked his cock. you pumped your hand in time with his ruts, massaging your thumb on the vein that buldged to the surface.

scaramouche's hands groped around for your knees, your thighs, anything to hold onto while he grinded shamelessly into your hand. you nuzzled against his neck, gently pinching and rolling his nipple between your fingers. his cock throbbed in your hand as his husky moans echoed throughout the bathroom.

"ah, fuck, you are amazing," water sloshed around him as he writhed a little, gritting his teeth in hopes of not sloshing water all over the floor. water he knew you would attempt to clean up yourself. at the thought, he let out a frustrated whimper.

"it's you who is amazing, daddy," your tongue flicked out to lick the shell of his ear. your ministrations on his nipples made his cock pulse harder in your hand. "i love you," he could hear the pure genuine weight of your words.

his moans rose in octave as cum roped into your hand. an embarrassed flush darkened his cheeks, having cum hard hearing even a little praise from you. you held him as he shook from his orgasm, pumping your hand on his cock until he was trembling in bliss against you.

washing your hand in the water, you leaned around and kissed him before putting your hands on his shoulders. you pressed and massaged your fingers into his muscles.

"you," he groaned softly, his body immediately relaxing further into your touches, "what am i going to do with you? let me take care of you, brat," his eyes drifted closed, ultimately surrendering to your massage. he could practically feel your victorious smile behind him.

about 45 minutes later, he raised his hand up out of the water, wiggling his index finger for you to lean around him. "a couple of things," he said once you peeked curiously around at him with cutest little, "hm?"

"i'm carrying you to bed. i am taking you to dinner tomorrow night. and," he pressed a long, slow kiss on your lips. a cocky victory smirk of his own tugged at the corners of his lips feeling you melt into his kiss. "i love you, i hope you know," he looked shy in a grumpy way as he said it.

"that's three things, daddy," you giggled, kissing him again. scaramouche playfully swatted bubbles at you. "i love you."

[tossawary]

I'm reviewing episode transcripts from "Merlin" to build up my worldbuilding document (character list, mostly) and, a little ways into S2, I'm kind of feeling like the show is actually quite mean to Arthur as a character sometimes? S1 E14: "To Kill the King" is one of those episodes where I forget how badly it pissed me off until I run into it again.

Like, don't get me wrong, Arthur can be a bully, entitled, hotheaded, and reckless, but he's also at this point risked his own life to save people multiple times. Both individuals whose lives were "worth less" than his own (getting the Mortaeus flower for a poisoned Merlin, smuggling Mordred out of the city, protecting Ealdor from bandits) and also Camelot as a whole (fighting the plague-causing monster in the sewers, fighting the mam-eating griffin, drinking poison to lift the unicorn curse).

Arthur is giving me vibes of being both bored and frustrated (and probably not able to name those feelings or exactly why he has them) because he wants so badly to do good things, but he's not really sure how to go about it because (no one ever tells him anything, he almost NEVER knows what's really going on to make informed choices, and) he's also stuck under the thumb of his tyrannical father, who spends most of their scenes together berating Arthur for being too merciful, for not being dutiful enough, and/or not finding sorcerers for execution fast enough. When Arthur tries to be fair-minded and compassionate, Uther often essentially tells him that he's going to be a weak king with that attitude.

Arthur's pathways to betterment are limited, his parent and role model and boss here is an AWFUL person, but he's trying!

So, it's quite frustrating to get to this one episode where characters like Gaius (extremely biased, admittedly, clearly not an objective individual) are saying things like: "Arthur's not ready. The responsibility would be too great. Brave though he may be, he lacks experience, he lacks judgement."

Like, I don't know, Arthur may be only 21 and kind of a dipshit, but I personally think he'd still do a better job than the guy who tried to kill a kid (Mordred) just for existing a few episodes ago? Maybe? Gwen's father, who wasn't even a sorcerer or knowingly working with one, is dead explicitly because of Uther's awful laws. Did everyone in this episode forget that Uther tried to BURN GWEN ALIVE AT THE STAKE not that long ago (Episode 3)?

ARTHUR: "[Morgana]'s right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen."

UTHER: "You saw it for yourself. She used enchantments."

ARTHUR: "Yes, maybe. But to save her dying father, that doesn't make [Gwen] guilty of creating a plague. One's the act of, of kindness, of love, the other of evil. I don't believe evil's in this girl's heart."

UTHER: "I have witnessed what witchcraft can do. I have suffered at its hand. I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl, she must die or the whole kingdom may perish."

ARTHUR: "I understand that."

UTHER: "One day you may become King. Then you will understand. Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom."

ARTHUR: "I know. Witchcraft is an evil, father. So is injustice. Yes, I am yet to be King, and I don't know what kind of king I will be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in. It would be where the punishment fits the crime."

UTHER: "I fear you're right. She's played with fire, and sadly she must die by fire."

When the adult druid (Cerdan) accompanying Mordred is killed (Episode 8), Arthur objects afterwards! On his own! While Arthur is sometimes an active participant in Uther's tyranny and otherwise complicit, he's been told all of his life that magic is inherently evil and corrupting, he was raised by the very man spreading this hateful philosophy, he should probably hate magic more than anyone after Uther, and yet he still disagrees with Uther's methods and judgments. Even though Uther is apparently VERY willing to lock both his son (Episode 4) and his ward (Episode 8) in the dungeons for disagreeing with him and disobeying him!

ARTHUR: The Druid was only in Camelot to collect supplies. He meant no harm. Is it necessary to execute him?

UTHER: Absolutely necessary. Those who use magic cannot be tolerated.

ARTHUR: The Druids are a peaceful people.

UTHER: Given the chance, they would return magic to the kingdom. They preach peace, but conspire against me. We cannot appear weak.

ARTHUR: Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.

UTHER: Our enemies will not see it that way. We have a responsibility to protect this kingdom. Executing the Druid will send out a clear message. Find the boy. Search every inch of the city.

Obviously, running a kingdom is complicated! Uther apparently won Camelot by conquest and is in conflict with many of the neighboring kings, including Odin and Cenred, and likely has more of the respect of the local nobility than young Arthur does. Uther's death would create some instability! (Agravaine de Bois hasn't been created yet, but let's assume there are many other potential vultures.)

But the show generally isn't pushing that angle. This isn't really about smooth transitions of power. Personally, concerning Arthur's "lack of judgment", I do find his ready conviction that it is his duty to die for Camelot's honor if necessary (he says as much to Merlin explicitly before fighting Valiant in Episode 2, then again before fighting the Black Knight in Episode 9) more than a little concerning, but that doesn't seem to be angle pushed here either.

The show has characters (Merlin, Gwen, Gaius) suggesting that offing the King, who regularly kills innocent people whether they have magic or not, who has forbidden use of the tool that might have saved innocent people from Nimueh's plague or the wraith of Tristan de Bois, would be wrong! It would be murder and murder is bad! It would make (in the words of a grieving Gwen) her "just as bad" as him.

Even though Merlin has at this point already killed Aulfric and Sophia (Episode 7), as well as Mary Collins (Episode 1) because they were trying to kill Arthur. And arguably got an assist with Valiant (Episode 2). And will kill many more as the show goes on. This conversation with Kilgharrah in S1 E14 is in many ways so, so funny:

KILGHARRAH: Well, young warlock, what is it you come to ask of me?

MERLIN: I need your help.

KILGHARRAH: Of course you do, but this time, will you heed my words?

MERLIN: The sorcerer Tauren is plotting to kill the King. He's made an ally of Morgana. I don't know what to do!

KILGHARRAH: Do… nothing.

MERLIN: What do you mean? If I do nothing, Uther will die.

KILGHARRAH: Don't you want Uther dead? It is Uther that persecutes you and your kind, Merlin. It is Uther that murders the innocent…

MERLIN: But surely that doesn't make it right to kill him.

KILGHARRAH: Only if Uther dies can magic return to the land. Only if Uther dies will you be free, Merlin. Uther's reign is at an end. Let Arthur's reign begin. Fulfil your destiny!

[The dragon flies off.]

MERLIN: Wait! Where does it say my destiny includes murder?

KILGHARRAH: Free this land from tyranny, Merlin! Free us all!

I feel for Kilgharrah here. He was VERY straightforward. I don't know how he could have been clearer about this.

I won't say that Merlin's character writing doesn't make ANY sense here (I do think the character writing in this show is NOT amazingly consistent), because... he IS being influenced by Gaius, who is, unfortunately, a bootlicker and also probably extremely traumatized by all of the death he's seen (big contributor of the bootlicking) (also, apparently Gaius only becomes a "freeman" at the end of Episode 6, so there's that). And Merlin is also being heavily influenced by Arthur, who loves his father, despite everything. For Arthur's sake, if no one else's, Merlin will go out of his way to save Uther. Sure! That tracks!

Merlin spends a lot of time in this show protecting a terrible status quo under some assumption that Camelot will... somehow suddenly become better under Arthur? Instead of perhaps eventually just trusting Arthur and talking to him after their years of knowing each other? There are several, in-world reasons for this and I don't think they're all unrealistic! It's tense! It's thrilling sometimes!

(Though I am ultimately a little annoyed that Merlin's many secrets never really come out and get dealt with by the characters, because that would have been fun drama and some resolution to all the tension, even if the story did still end in death.)

There's some tasty tragedy in this silly show, in many ways. Merlin is confused and conflicted and scared and without clear guidance in many ways. Kilgharrah is mysterious and not at all reassuring. Gaius is complacent and (very reasonably) incredibly secretive. Merlin doesn't get to see many of the moments where Arthur speaks up for magical people and tries to talk Uther down. Morgana and Arthur are both stuck here in a "The hands that cradled you are covered in an unimaginable amount of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?" nightmare scenario. (There's also a sexist element where male characters like Gaius and Merlin won't let Morgana know about her own powers "for her own good" in a gaslight-y way that's fascinating to me in how it creates a villain.)

But, also, the compelling tragic elements here don't make certain episodes any less frustrating to watch in their execution. (I don't think villains being frustrating to watch or read necessarily makes them effective villains, especially when what I really find annoying here is the heroes' reactions to the villain. Uther has killed SO MANY PEOPLE! FOR NO REASON!) Especially when a lot of the overall results of this show often feel more accidental than purposeful. I do understand why the writers keep Uther around! He's a formidable antagonist to have looming all over the place and the actor is fun.

But OOF, I felt that "Do... Nothing".

Merlin! MERLIN! LISTEN TO THE SCARY DRAGON! MERLIN, REMEMBER THAT TIME UTHER TRIED TO BURN GWEN ALIVE??? JUST BECAUSE GWEN IS TOO NICE TO GO AFTER UTHER WITH A KNIFE AND TAKE REVENGE, IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY MEAN KILLING HIM MAKES YOU "JUST AS BAD"!!! MERLIN!!! YOU HAVE ALREADY MURDERED MULTIPLE PEOPLE WHO KILLED WAY LESS PEOPLE THAN UTHER!!!

In Episode 4, Morgana says to Uther: "You can't chain [Arthur] up every time he disagrees with you." This implies to me that Uther has had Arthur thrown in the dungeons before. In Episode 3, Arthur says to Morgana: "Father will slam us both in chains if he knew I'd endangered you," and maybe he wasn't at all joking with that? Arthur is rattling the bars of his cell here, apparently fairly ready to be aimed wherever Merlin points him, bucking against being aimed at innocents by his tyrant of a father.

But nooo, Gaius says Arthur is "not ready yet" because...??? He seems less hotheaded than Uther to me, honestly. Are his tax policies not up to par yet? You can hire a guy for that. Suggesting that Arthur would be in any way worse than His Majesty "Anyone Who Talks To A Sorcerer Gets Executed Even If They Didn't Know They Were A Sorcerer" feels quite mean to Arthur, really. I think he'd do alright, in comparison, Gaius who lies to the King every single day, but I suppose you sometimes want to be a loyal friend to good ol' King "Made Merlin Drink Poison That One Time And Wouldn't Let Anyone Go Get The Cure". Good for you. Bad for everyone else.

Like, I know, I know this show is not very deep. I like that all of the characters are flawed and fumble a lot! I even kind of enjoy that it ultimately ends in death with so many loose emotional threads. It is a weekly burst of fantasy nonsense that is not especially concerned with consistency in worldbuilding or characters from episode to episode. But the executive discrepancies here are, like the ones in "Star Wars", weirdly fascinating with all of the holes and wobbly bits it creates.

This show: "Yes, our hero has once again saved the tyrannical king who kills innocents! Preventing the oblivious prince from assuming the throne and trying to do better as he so clearly wants to do! Good work, Merlin, taking the high road (which involved murdering the rightfully angry people trying to kill the tyrannical king) again!"

Me, every time: "...I am genuinely not sure how the show wants us to interpret this. What did they think they were doing with this? Was this always meant to be a tragedy from the first season? Because personally, I'm getting some kind of tragedy from this."

[gilded-sunrays]

Hello 👋🏻 um.. I wanted to say I really like your writing style and I hope you doing well.😊 I'm quite new here, and I'm rather shy with communicating with people... I wanted to know are you accepting requests ?

If so I would you mind if I asking of scenario of yoriichi with a extremely kind hearted and affectionate fem/reader from his childhood, Who just like to care for those around her giving gifts and try to somehow make them happy.

I want to know how would he react around her? How would he confess to her? You could also make it a short headcanon I don't want to trouble you.

Oh I'm sorry if I talked already too much!!! you don't even have to answer me if you don't want to. Just Thanks for reading my nonsenses😅. I hope you have a good day and I wish for you and everyone a happy life and 😄 take care👋🏻🙏🏻

¡! ❞Confession.ᐟ

|| Pairings: Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi × Reader || 𖤐 Masterlist

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi had always sensed a special bond with you. In a world where his own family had turned their backs on him, your presence was the only one that felt welcoming. 

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi admired your kindness and gentle spirit, how you would go out of your way to assist strangers, share your groceries with neighbours, and do those small, thoughtful things just to bring a smile to others faces. 

▪︎And although he may not have felt worthy of all your selfless kindness, he made every effort to reciprocate it. Whether it was cooking your favourite meals when you got back, assisting you with chores, or simply tending to you a massage.. and whatnot

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi just adored the moments spent with you, with the adorable little creatures that just seemed to gravitate towards him. You two would take some food along to feed them—bunnies, squirrels, little birds, and whatnot. With him around, they even felt calm around you.  

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi was a man of few words, often wearing a calm expression when in company, yet he became surprisingly chatty when it was just the two of you.

▪︎While Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi still remained mostly quiet, his attentive listening made it clear that he cherished every word you shared. His face was usually stoic, with only a hint of smile passing through, but you had gotten used to reading his expressions.  

▪︎As time went on, you both had matured and grown into adults. Living together and managing a home as literal children had made you two an unstoppable team.  

▪︎Having each other by your sides, there was no task that seemed impossible—taxes (did he even pay taxes living high up in the middle of nowhere though..?) cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, or budgeting. Over the years, it all became second nature for the two of you. 

▪︎As this bond grew, so did Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi's feelings for you. In his eyes, you were flawless, like an angel—a light that simply kept him from withering away in his life. 

—And you were the light that he vowed to protect for many years to come

"Y/n.." he began softly, as you both sat by the pond where your paths first crossed.

 "My soul has traversed far and wide to find yours.. In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours."

 He continued, lost in memories of you as he reminisced about your beautiful smile and your pleasant aura..

 "..and In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.." 

As he took his rough hand and gently cupped your cheek, leaning in closer, his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered— 

"I love you.. y/n"

|| A/N: Tysm for requesting <33, I sincerely hope you enjoy it! And nah, its not nonsense, infact-- my inbox is pretty much always open for anything, so feel free to send in whatever..lol!

[oceaneyesinla]

This idea appeared in my brain in the shower and I think it's ADORABLE. Shoto just brings out the cuteness aggression in me

Shoto x gn!Reader

A knock at your dorm room door distracts you from your book, but when you open it, you're met with beige walls and blue carpet, neither of which are known for their ability to knock on wood. This has happened a fair few times in the last month , and that knowledge prompts you to look down.

You can't help your pleased little smile when your hunch is proven correct. Sitting neatly in the doorway is a bunch of pretty flowers wrapped up in blue plastic. They're your favourite, just like always, and they've arrived just in time - like clockwork, just as the old ones are beginning to wilt, a new bouquet appears. There's differences every time, but whatever extras have been added, your favourite flower is always there.

There's a distinctive amateur feel to the way the bouquet is wrapped up, and it endears you to your secret gifter even more. It's clear how much time and effort is going into this gesture, in more ways than one. Someone listened to you, when you rambled about the flower patch in your childhood garden, the one you tended alone while your brother trained with your parents to become a hero. Someone remembered you fondly reminisce about pretty leaves and bright petals, and decided to make you smile.

You crouch down to pick up the flowers, and there's a note tucked amongst the blooms, just like every other time. It's never signed, and it's always so blunt and honest that it circles right back round to being charming. Whether it's complementing your sunshine smile or praising you for your latest training success, it never fails to make your cheeks heat up. You keep them all, tucked away in the drawer underneath where you display your flowers.

Your admirer is making a valiant effort to keep their identity hidden, and you find it adorable - mostly because you figured it out as soon as you saw that first note. He forgot that you know him as well as he knows you. The way he writes his characters is ever so slightly clumsy; he spent a lot of time teaching himself to write - Endeavour more interested in teaching him to fight than to live - and there's a couple of little details that make his handwriting distinctive. Plus, you're shared a class with him for three years; you've seen his writing more times than you can count.

There's a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, and you press your lips together to hold back a giggle. He may be a nearly graduated Hero course student, but he's not very sneaky. He doesn't usually stick around to see your reaction to his creation, instead listening intently from his desk as you gush about them to Momo.

Your eyes widen as your eyes scan over familiar script, and now you know why he's loitering - Todoroki Shoto is asking you on a date. You read the words three times, and pinch yourself for good measure. Part of you is surprised - he knows all your darkest moments and he's choosing you anyway? - but a bigger part of you knows this was inevitable. You've been gravitating towards each other since first year, and honestly, you've been driving your classmates mad.

An almost painful grin stretches across your face as you straighten up, "Sho? Come here."

He obeys almost immediately, emerging from around the corner to stand in front of you. The cautious hope glittering in his eyes makes you want to squish his cheeks and boop his nose and you feel giddy when you remember that yes, you'll be able to do just that. No more hiding the urge to hold his hand or kiss his cheek when he remembers your favourite snack or brings an extra hoodie to movie night just in case you get cold.

Maybe you're getting ahead of yourself. You still haven't actually given him an answer, and he's starting to worry, his bottom lip pushing out into a little pout. You can't take his sad face any longer - you reach out and grab his hand, infinitely entertained by the immediate red flush that spreads across his cheeks.

"Of course I'll go on a date with you. How about this weekend?"

"Okay." His smile is reflecting yours like the moon reflects the sun, and oh, he might be the prettiest person you've ever met.

He lifts your hand and shyly drops a kiss to your knuckles, looking up at you through unfairly long lashes. Now you're blushing as well, heat pooling in your cheeks as he lets your hands fall back between you. Neither of you let go, and you make an impulsive decision - after all, Shoto was brave enough to take the first step; the least you can do is meet him where he is.

"Actually, I'm free right now. We could go and get dinner?"

Your bravery is instantly rewarded with another devastatingly beautiful smile, "Yeah, I'd like that."

[mariabtsos]

I'll Be There ||k.sj||

Description: your family may have forgotten your birthday, but goddammit Jin refuses to let it ruin your day.

Genre: Short drabble, idol!Jin x f!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, found family, fluff.

Warnings: feeling of being an afterthought, feeling of being forgotten

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: It was my birthday yesterday :)

There was absolutely no way right? I mean they'd been talking to you all day, they even called you yesterday and talked about how your birthday was today.

You should've known, the first red flag should've been that your own sisters forgot your birthday and how old you were turning. This had never really happened to you before, they had always been so good about your birthday just like you always were about theirs, so why was this year different? You had moved to Korea a long time ago, over 10 years ago actually, and even your extended family back home had messaged you and made sure you felt loved today of all days. At least, even if the worst were to happen, you still had Jin.

You'd met Jin, ironically, on the same bus he'd been scouted out for BigHit's audition, and you'd been together ever since. Your relationship had had its fair share of obstacles, trials and tribulations, but you were happy together, and he made sure that you were. When Jin enlisted, just like he had with ARMY, he'd prepared little videos and notes for you to open during the times you couldn't see each other. Those typical letters that said open when you're sad, open when you miss me, and so on.

When he came back he made damn sure that you were the first person he'd spend his time off with after he was done with all his schedules, because Jin was a workaholic, even if he'd never admit it, and he couldn't stand being out first and not seeing his fans right away. You had front row seats to his event, letting the hug be just for ARMY as you knew they'd missed him, and after it was all done, you came home to your shared apartment and shared beautiful moments together whilst he was off.

Today, he'd planned an entire day for you, which basically consisted of mostly chilling together like you both loved doing, taking you out to your favorite restaurant and then singing happy birthday along with your family, even if it was over FaceTime since they'd moved away from Seoul to Busan few years back when your parents got better jobs.

“Alright mom, I'll talk to you guys when we get back!” You said enthusiastically toward your phone as you spoke to the older woman, Jin had a smile on his face as you walked toward him after hanging up.

“Ready my love?” He asked as he grabbed onto your waist and you placed your hands on his chest.

“Yes,” you gave him a quick peck and a smile.

Jin had arranged for Yoongi to drop off the cake he'd had made for you whilst you were out. He took you to a small hole in the wall restaurant you guys had found after you'd moved to this part of Seoul, the food was great and you always loved how they gave you the perfect fries to burger ratio.

“Have I done good so far, my love?” He asked after he pulled a chair out for you to sit.

“You've done great Jinnie, you always have,” you smiled softly.

“I promise next year when everything isn't crazy and full of comebacks we'll go to your parents' for your birthday,” he reached for your hand on top of the table, caressing your knuckles with his thumb, “or we can fly them out here!” He suggested.

You hoped Jin understood how much everything he did for you today, and everyday, meant to you; he'd always had that knack for making you feel loved in the most thoughtful ways, even in the most silly ways too! Just like his dad jokes he had the cheesiest pick up lines, and they always cheered you up when you were having a bad day. You remembered a few years back, when you were giving yourself a really hard time at work and you came home upset, he'd said all kinds of ridiculous things in every language you both knew. It was safe to say, you were laughing hysterically after some time.

This time, however, Jin worried that might not be enough. When you came home for dinner you were so happy to see your favorite cake waiting for you on the kitchen island along with two cards, one from Jin and one from the rest of the guys, which had all but adopted you into their little family soon after Jin introduced you to them all those years ago, it was very touching to see it and to read it.

“I'm going to call my mom so they can sing happy birthday with us!” You said excitedly as you pulled out your phone. This had been a tradition ever since they'd moved away from Seoul, because had you been back home they would've thrown you a little party…at least you hoped so. Ever since they'd moved away you'd felt a little alienated, you were often the last to know about things that you wouldn't usually be, all shielded by the excuse ‘if you called more.’

Jin got the candles for your cake ready when the first call didn't go through, you made a joke out of it at first, giving the call another try. He tried lighting the candles when you stopped him “we have to wait until they answer,” your smile was slowly fading by then. You texted your mom and then tried FaceTiming her again, and she didn't answer, you felt your heart shatter and little.

“It's okay, they might have to work tomorrow, plus we've been talking all day and all,” you chuckled, “we'll record it for them! That way they won't feel left out,” it was less of a suggestion and more of a thing you immediately got ready for, pulling out your phone in front of the cake and getting the camera angle just right.

“Are you ready, my love?” He asked, looking at you with the softest, most loving look. You didn't speak simply nodding as you hit record and he lit the candles.

“1, 2, 3…” you started clapping, singing the typical birthday song for your home country, you had been fine at first, singing happily and then your voice started breaking, you tried clearing your throat to continue but Jin didn't miss this.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, but you just kept singing, your voice broke again until it was barely a whisper so he paused the recording.

“What's wrong? We can stop if you want love, we don't have to-” he tried holding your face but you put your hands up taking a few deep breaths.

“We have to finish, I'm fine,” you said, your voice thick with the lump in your throat.

You were heartbroken, but you wouldn't be able to send this to them if you broke down on video. You were so confused, you had talked all day, and every year, even if you had talked all day, no matter if it was 5pm or 9pm they'd be there to sing happy birthday before, why was it so different now? Did you do something wrong? You thought all your issues and disagreements have been talked out enough, was it not enough for them? You remembered how earlier your dad had called you, how he said he'd been crying because he missed you and he wished he was with you. Your relationship hadn't always been the best but you thought it was better now, you thought you had gotten over your issues.

These were all thoughts that ran through your mind as you finished the song, going on to sing happy birthday in your native language and Korean, Jin hated seeing you so heartbroken, he hated the tears that came down your face. He wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind as he finished the song for you, since your voice was again barely above a whisper. The number candles had melted apart as you blew on them, the tears now escaping without you being able to stop.

Jin hated this, this was meant to be your day, you were supposed feel loved and happy and excited, hell, all of them had been back and were working on their newest comeback and he managed to plan a sweet day, the guys had all texted or called you, but your parents couldn't bother to answer your call for a simple birthday call?

“Why don't you try texting your dad hmm?” He tried suggesting as he pulled you in for a hug. “No, they're probably asleep it's fine,” you argued as you picked out the pieces of candles that had fallen apart.

“I'll call them then!” he retorded.

“No! It's fine, can we just sit on the couch and cuddle please?” You pleaded as you moved to the living room, he followed close behind, as he saw you start to break down again. He sighed, and sat next to you, pulling you into his chest as you cried, holding onto his shirt tightly. He hated this for you, especially today, he'd ve damned if he let your day be ruined by this. After you'd stopped crying he stepped aside and texted his group chat with his members:

911, I need you all at my place yesterday, no ifs ands or buts.

It took less than 30 minutes for them to get there, all in comfy clothes as if they had been about to go to bed, “hyung what's wrong?” Jungkook asked first yawning and stretching as Jin led them into the apartment.

“Yn’s parents didn't answer her call for them to sing happy birthday,” he spoke quietly and sighed, hearing your sniffles coming from the living room. His dongsaengs looked confused at first, before remembering all the days after your birthday where he vowed to learn your home country's birthday song for you one day.

“Are you serious?” Jimin whisper-yelled. It was followed by a chorus of how could they do that and is Yn noona okay?

He simply walked over to you, now they were all much more awake. “My love? The guys are here! I was thinking we could all eat cake together, hmm?” He sat next to you, caressing your head. You looked up and saw all of them, various levels of concern and sadness in their eyes. You felt your eyes water again as you stood up, pulling Jin up with as you pulled the rest of them in for a hug.

“Oh, Ynie,” Yoongi spoke, “we're all here for you! We're your family too!”

“Yeah, you always have us and Jin hyung for support,” Taehyung said next, you felt his hand patting the top of your head and you chuckled weakly.

You pulled away, seeing them all there and smiled, happy that you had them, that you had Jin and that you weren't as alone as you felt. “Thank you guys,” you sniffled, “do you want some cake?” You asked with a smile and immediately all six ran to your kitchen, a mix of reactions, most noticeable being Namjoon's and Hobi's as they agreed that they should cut the biggest piece for you. You were happy to know that even if you felt as an after thought for others, you'd never be an after thought for them, and especially not for Jin.

You turned back to Jin, who immediately cupped your face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears. “Thank you for today love,” you smiled softly, holding onto the sides of his shirt, “I'm sorry for being an cry baby.”

“Hey!” He got closer to you, “you are not a cry baby, you deserve only the best for your birthday and everyday of our lives, and I will make sure you get it no matter what,” he assured you. You simply nodded and got on your tippy toes to kiss him, it was chaste and sweet, not lasting too long since Jungkook was calling for you to come get your piece.

As you walked off, Jin received an email notification, letting him know that the most important birthday gift he'd been planning for you was ready, the ring you'd designed yourself.

And he couldn't wait to put it on your finger soon.

[rafestyles]

should've known it was a matter of time // rafe cameron x reader

Requested? No, I just need to write something!!!!!!

Prompt: After getting caught by Singh’s men, you find yourself face-to-face with none other than Rafe Cameron. (For the sake of the story & so I don’t have to write it out - you are JJ’s sister. You and Rafe had been dating in secret before the incident on the tarmac occurred. Even though you had tried so hard to hide your relationship from JJ and the other pogues, it was all worthless when Rafe made you choose between him or helping out John B & Sarah (who is also your best friend). You obviously chose the latter and he declared your relationship over. You have mostly avoided him until this point.) Or: You are Kie in episodes 1 & 2 of season 3, except you’re Rafe’s ex. 

Warnings/Content: toxic!rafe, pogue!reader, maybank!reader, violence (g*ns)

Word Count: 3.9k

The sound of your shallow, anxious breathing is the only noise that fills your ears as you ascend the staircase. With the guard’s heavy footsteps echoing behind you, you have little time to scan the room for any possible escape routes. When you hesitate for a second too long, his voice cuts through the tension, sounding annoyed, “Up.” 

Reaching the top step, he jerks you towards the first door, swinging it open, “Inside.”  When you refuse to move, he shoves you, propelling you into the room. You whirl towards him, fury lighting up your eyes.  “Why am I here? Who are you working for?” you demand, your voice trembling in anger and fear. 

“Dinner at eight. I’d clean up.” he mutters harshly as his eyes trail over your body with barely concealed disdain. “Just tell me what they want!” you beg, desperation leaking into your tone. He barely spares you another glance before slamming the door and clicking the lock into place.

Though you know it’s futile, you pull at the handle praying it may give. When it doesn’t, you finally admit defeat, turning your body to fully take in the room. You walk towards the windows in the back of the room pulling the curtains open, your eyes falling on a few guards standing just outside. With a frustrated huff, you force yourself to keep scanning the room even as the tears threaten to fall. 

Your gaze lands on a wardrobe and you make your way over. A row of identical red dresses hang on the rack inside and your eyes catch on a note that’s attached to the first one. Your trembling fingers reach for it as you read over the messy scrawl: “Pick your size.” 

Your face contorts in confusion before it dawns on you  - this is what they expect you to wear at the dinner they have planned for the night. Realizing that leaving this room is your only hope in formulating a plan of escape, you admit defeat and reluctantly pull out your size. 

–

A few hours later, you’re laying on the bed, twirling your fingers as you anxiously wait for dinner. A brief knock on the door is the only sound that alerts you before a woman opens the door. She briefly glances over you, “He’s ready,” are the only words she speaks as she gestures for you to follow her. You exhale a nervous breath, following her down the steps, each footfall heavier than the last. When you reach the main level, she lifts her arm towards the dining room where you can hear the unmistakable sound of a drink being poured. You step towards it, your gaze instinctively landing on a man who’s standing with his back towards you, lifting the glass of dark liquid towards his lips. 

“Uh, excuse me?” you call out, your voice coming out shakier than you’d like.

The man stiffens before slowly turning to face you. Time seems to slow as your eyes lock and your heart skips a beat. This is the last thing you were prepared for - standing face-to-face with your ex, Rafe Cameron. “No, no. There’s no way you and your dad are behind this shit.” You hiss, anger dripping from every word. 

He seems to snap out of his daze, his eyes flaring in disbelief, “What are you talking about?” he snaps,  “Are you and your pogue friends trying to weasel in on my deal right now? Is that what’s going on?” 

“What are you talking about?” you retort, angrily. 

“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know.” a voice chuckles from another corner of the room. You and Rafe exchange one last charged look at one another before fully turning to face the man. Panic surges through you as you hear Rafe mutter, “Who are you?” 

A smirk spreads across the man's face as he points at his chest, “Me?” he asks, his tone mocking. Your eyes glance towards Rafe, nerves tightening, watching as he almost instinctively shuffles his body closer towards yours. “My name is Carlos Singh.” he says smoothly, shaking his finger at Rafe.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cameron.” His gaze shifts to you, condescension in his eyes,  “And Ms. y/l/n, I do apologize for the rough tactics in bringing you here.” 

Rafe’s body tightens, his eyes sweeping over you in what you suspect is concern. The tension between the three of you hangs thick as Singh lets the silence linger for a moment before speaking again, the tone of his voice taking on a false politeness.

“But please, come. Sit down.” he gestures to the table behind him. When neither you or Rafe make a move, he adds with exaggerated patience, “Come now, I don’t bite.” 

Rafe sweeps his gaze over you once more, his eyes intense as they scan every inch of your body. Concern tightens his features and you realize with a start that he’s checking for any sign of injury. The realization sends something soft and unexpected through your body as his eyes finally meet yours again.

You offer a small, reassuring nod - enough for him to see that you’re okay. He seems to accept your unspoken message and you watch as the tension in his shoulders eases slightly, his expression softening at your response. With a subtle gesture, he finally moves towards the table, still glancing back to watch you closely. 

“Rough tactics. What about me?” Rafe grumbles, his voice laced with frustration as he paces around the back of the room. “Yes, Mr. Cameron. False pretenses,” Singh says, pouring a drink into the glasses in front of him, “But the ends justify the means I’m afraid.” 

He takes a few sips of one of the glasses, “Sit down.” You hear Rafe’s sigh of frustration before you both pull chairs out and finally take your seats. Singh watches you both, unphased by Rafe’s frustration as he sets a drink in front of you and another one in front of Rafe. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Why are we here?” Your voice steady despite the tension cutting through the room. 

Singh leans back, his expression unreadable. “Well Ms. y/l/n, Mr. Cameron. We share certain interests… Objectives.” he says in a tone that’s almost too casual for the situation at hand.

Rafe’s body leans forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, “Is this not about the cross?” 

Your gaze snaps towards Rafe, but before you can respond, Singh’s finger points sharply in his direction, “It is. Tangentially, it is about the cross.” he pauses as his gaze shifts towards a painting on one of the far walls, his expression distant. “But it’s also about something much, much bigger than the cross by orders of magnitude,” 

He exhales slowly, “The completion of a grand quest.” With his back towards you, Singh’s words echo through the room. You find Rafe’s gaze again, your eyes locking for a brief moment. A sense of reassurance washes over you as you realize Rafe’s expression matches your puzzled one. 

“You see,” Singh’s voice cuts through the silence, bringing your attention back to him. “The story goes that 450 years ago, a Spanish soldier came out of the Orinoco Basin with a few gold beads. And when they asked the Spanish soldier where the beads came from, the Spanish soldier replied he got them from a peaceful Indigenous tribe who lived in a city of gold.” he pauses, letting the weight of the words sink in, “El Dorado.” 

Letting the words settle, he eyes the both of you before continuing on, “And for the next 450 years, people tried to find that gold, you know.” He walks over to a table, picking a small dagger up as the blade catches the light.  “They tried… conquistadors, knights, captains of ships, tribes, entire nations.” 

He turns to face you and Rafe, his expression growing intense. “All fighting each other in a race for the end of the rainbow.” He begins pacing in front of you, the dagger now resting loosely in his hands. “Thousands of lives laid on the pyre of gold fever.” 

Your eyes dart to Rafe, noticing the subtle tension in his body as he grows irritated at Singh’s story. “And it falls to me, you know.” Singh stops pacing, his voice taking on a deeper tone. He leans forward, his gaze bouncing between the two of you with an intensity that borders on obsession, “It falls to me to complete the task.” 

He pauses a moment before continuing, “To bring full circle a quest that has gone on for almost 500 years. Perhaps… perhaps the greatest quest in the history of the western hemisphere.” 

Unease grows in your stomach as you realize the finality in his tone, the unmistakable certainty that he will stop at nothing to claim what he believes is his. Your panicked expression flicks towards Rafe, only to find his own - an expression laced with annoyance, his lips pursed in a tight line. He begins nodding slowly, as if he’s trying to process Singh’s words, but you know him - the tension in his shoulders speak volumes, he’s pissed. Before he can utter a word, Singh’s voice speaks up again.

“And you two,” he points the dagger between the two of you, chuckling softly, “you two are going to play a part in that.” 

Dread pools in your stomach as panic begins to overtake your senses. The walls of the room feel as if they’re closing in on you, the realization and sense of impending danger.  You glance at Rafe again, hoping to find even an ounce of reassurance painted on his features, but all you see is frustration. He pulls his lips into his mouth, trying to maintain his temper. You feel the tension rising even more as the situation begins to feel as if it’s about to derail. 

“What about you, Ms. y/l/n?” Singh speaks, causing your eyes to catch him again. “Are you interested in history?” He pulls out a chair next to you, settling into it.

You hesitate a second before speaking, your voice calm but guarded,  “More of a future person.” 

Before he can respond, Rafe’s groan cuts through the silence. “Yeah I didn’t listen to a word you said, okay? How much are you gonna keep philosophizing?” 

Your skin prickles with unease at the sharp edge of Singh’s tone as he chuckles from beside you, “You are direct, aren’t you Mr. Cameron?” 

The two men lock eyes, in a silent stand-off. The tension rises another notch before you decide to speak again, “What do you need from me?” you whisper. 

Singh’s gaze refuses to waver from Rafe’s, his words slow and deliberate. “I’ve come to believe that you and your friends are in possession of something that can help me get what you want.” 

The words settle with a thud and you can see the surprise flash through Rafe’s gaze, even though he fights to keep his expression neutral. 

You swallow around the lump in your throat, “Which is?” 

Singh’s gaze finally breaks Rafe’s, his attention shifting towards you “An old manuscript. A diary, actually.” From the corner of your eyes, you feel Rafe’s gaze slide over your features, his eyes lingering with curiosity. There’s a small shift in his expression - like he’s trying to read you. You don’t look at him directly, refusing to break your gaze with Singh’s. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Rafe says, his voice sharp,  causing both you and Singh to look at him. You exhale an anxious breath, trying to steady yourself,  “This is ridiculous. I don’t know anything about a diary.” You lie, forcing the words to sound natural as they leave your mouth. 

Singh's gaze sharpens, his eyes narrowing as if he can read right through your facade. “But how else could you have learned that the cross was on the Royal Merchant?” he presses. 

Panic surges through you, your pulse quickening. You shake your head, trying to divert the conversation, “Look, I want to help you, but I can’t.” 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” Singh’s tone rings with thinly veiled frustration.

You tense at his response, your fists clenching anxiously in your lap. Then, without warning, you feel a soft pressure against your leg. You freeze, your eyes darting downwards, catching Rafe’s leg pressed against your own. The unexpected contact brings a jolt of warmth through your body. When you glance back up at him, the tautness shows in his shoulders and his gaze is heavy on Singh. The tension in the air is palpable, but just for a moment, it feels as if you’re not facing this alone. 

The feeling quickly retreats as Singh’s voice echoes through the room, “Because unfortunately, I don’t believe you.” His tone is laced with menace as the panic threatens to take over. You swallow around the thickness of your throat, barely noticing the subtle motion of Rafe’s shoe tracing up and down your leg. The quiet gesture stirs something deep inside of you, a mix of comfort and tension, but you push it to the side. 

“You and your friend here couldn’t have found the cross without it.” Singh continues, his tone pointed as he assesses you both. 

“He’s not my friend.” You respond sharply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. A flicker of sorrow races through you as you feel the weight of Rafe’s leg leave your own, irritation flashing through his eyes. 

You glance over at him, the apology right on your lips, ready to break free before Singh speaks up again, “We can’t all be friends, you know.” 

The words hit hard and before you can process them, Rafe suddenly pushes back from his seat, “Look, this is ridiculous. Okay? I’m out.” he mutters, stepping back as if to walk out.  “I don’t know anything about a diary, okay? So-” 

But before he can finish, he’s shocked into silence as a guard steps from the shadows, the barrel of his gun resting coldly against Rafe’s chest. You gasp, body tensing at the threatening move.

“Do I look like a fool to you, Mr. Cameron?” Singh’s voice raises sharply although you can’t tear your gaze away from the sight of Rafe standing motionless, his chest still pressed against the barrel. 

Singh stands, his eyes never leaving Rafe, “Do I look like a fool to you?” he repeats. 

For a moment, everything feels suspended in time. Your body relaxes slightly as Rafe finally steps away from the gun, shrugging his shoulders defiantly.

“You have the cross.” Singh sighs, his tone accusing. “She and her friends had the cross at one point. So one of you has the diary.”

Rafe’s eyes find yours, concern lingering in his expression as he catches the sight of tears threatening to spill over. It’s gone in a split second as he braces himself for Singh’s next words, “And if you really don’t know,” he continues, “then I suggest you convince your friend to tell me.” 

Your gaze remains locked on Rafe’s as you try to read the expression in his eyes. He breaks your gaze to glance at Singh as he continues speaking. “Once I have the diary, you’ll be free to leave. I must warn you though,” he pauses meaningfully, “I’m not a man of infinite patience.” 

You stand, trembling slightly as Singh gestures with his hands to follow him back up the stairs and into the room you were in earlier. His words are a chilling promise: “You have one day.”

As you climb the stairs, you try to blink back the tears as the tension is taut through Rafe’s shoulders. When you reach the room, Singh’s smirk rings through his tone, “Go to the window for a little demonstration.” He pats Rafe on the shoulder aggressively before adding, “I think you’ll enjoy it, you know.”

He walks back down the hallway, the guards slamming the door shut on you both. 

“Hey,” Rafe growls, the anger finally boiling over.  “Hey!” he grunts as he pulls desperately at the handle, “You’re just done talking? Hey!” 

The sound of the lock echoes through the room as you realize how trapped you are. “It’s locked.” you mumble, the weight of the situation falling heavily onto your shoulder. Rafe whips his head to look at you, frustration flashing in his eyes.

You stalk towards the window, Rafe following closely behind. Pulling open the curtains, you hear the sound of a man's voice filter through the window. “Hey. I didn’t do nothing man.”

“Who is that guy?” Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. His voice is closer to you than you expected, his warmth pressing into you as you stand side by side.

 “I know him,” you reply, your voice tinged with confusion. “It’s Jimmy Portis.” 

Rafe’s gaze snaps towards yours, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He was trying to help me.” you whisper. 

Your body tenses as you spot Singh moving outside, his gaze locked on yours. The smirk on his face is evident as he pulls a gun from his waistband. 

Shock rings through your body. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rafe mutters, his body instinctively moving closer as you both begin to panic. 

The sound of a gunshot splinters harshly through the air. You and Rafe gasp in unison as the sound echoes throughout the room, your eyes widened in terror. “No…” the word escaping from your lips as the tears finally push over the edge. 

Rafe’s gaze is unwavering on yours as he watches with intensity and a hint of desperation. “This diary,” Rafe whispers, his voice raw,  “No bullshit. Please don’t bullshit me, okay?” he pleads, “Do you have it?”

Your silence that follows is thick with tension as the weight of his question settles through the room. Your heart hammers in your chest as the silence hangs in the air. The internal battle tears at you - the need to protect your brother, and the harsh realization that Rafe may be the only one that can help you now. 

“Baby?” Rafe’s voice cracks as the old nickname surges through your heart. The way he says it - pleading and full of concern, makes your decision that much harder. 

“No.” The lie is out before you can second-guess yourself. You say it with fake certainty, praying he believes you, even as betrayal sinks through your body.

One look at his face tells you he doesn’t. The guarded expression flashes back over his features, irritation flashing in his eyes as he pulls away from you and the window, attempting to process the lie. 

“You forget I used to know you, y/n.”

[fandoms-in-law]

Ophelia's Son: Abigail

Summary: Abigail Adams turns up at the Harrington house to try and get Steve to help her schemes. Nobody agrees with her.

Following on from these Ophelia's Son Smoking and What Will Grow

Mostly inspired by the Feud in the Addams Family episode for those who know the 60's series.

/\

Since meeting the Addams’s and especially since he first had the flower crown take root, Steve had come to expect a few new reactions when customers entered Family Video. None of those helped when Nancy came storming in, not even reacting to him as she seized the phone, “Hello, Welcome to Family – Hey! Nancy, you can’t just use the phone.” He switched to complaining mid greeting.

As he impatiently watched, she dialled a number that looked like it was noted in his handwriting and held a finger up to emphasise she wanted him to wait while she called rather than complain about it immediately.

“Hello Mr Addams, I’m Nancy, a friend of Steve’s.” She greeted cheerfully and he snorted at the formality. He was sure the first reply would be something about calling him Gomez but resolved to carry on listening to why-ever his uncle had been called.

“Yes, he’s well… Yes, I’ll tell him, but I am calling for a reason sir… Yes sir, an Abigail Adams turned up at his house this morning. I was dropping something off and… Okay… I’ll do what I can… I’ll let Steve know to expect her. Thank you.” Nancy stared at the phone for a moment, a little surprised the call had finished so quickly though Steve wasn’t. While Morticia took her time to speak and think through her words, Gomez often spoke quickly and acted impulsively.

He cleared his throat after a moment of her staring though, still annoyed that Nancy had come all the way to Family Video to make a call she clearly could have done at his house. All the party knew where his spare key was kept after all.

“Sorry.” She apologised a little sheepishly, “That Abigail woman wasn’t leaving so I didn’t want to unlock the door after I’d locked it. I think she’s still parked outside your house, set on waiting until you’re home.”

“Okay, that explains why you called from here, but not why you’d brought the number with you or why you wanted to call them before telling me this.” Steve stated, unimpressed with her actions still. “Also who should I be expecting other than Abigail?”

Nancy glanced back at the phone. “Mama? Granmama? I think for you it’d be the latter, apparently she wants to fight Abigail over something, or they all dislike her, maybe. And I wanted to call them because Abigail mentioned how you or she should be head of the Addams family rather than Gomez. I didn’t mention that to him, did I?”

“Nope, but if she’s tried taking over before that might explain them disliking her.” He offered. “Maybe you could head to the library to see if anything about her has reached Hawkins newspapers.”

Nancy smiled, nodding and clearly happy to have something to research over the encounter that must have been more than stated given how unsettled she still seemed.

/\

He knew Abigail was someone disliked by his Aunt and Uncle and knew that she was probably still outside his house, but Steve was not expecting to have “Mr Harrington!” called out as soon as he got out of his car, nor the dark haired lady in a dress suit and kitten heels hurrying over to him while he straightened up.

“Steve, if I may. I so wanted to meet you. I’m your relative, Abigail Adams. Richard suggested I visit and I’m sure you’re just as charming as your father is.” The words were genially said but immediately soured him on her. Anyone his father liked was someone to be wary of, but also likely to be mentioned and bring anger if he scorned her.

Steve decided to worry over his fathers reaction later and headed towards the house, “Congratulations Abigail, you’ve met me.” He sarcastically called. “Leave now and you can keep that impression. Stay and I’ll have a fair few families helping you leave soon enough.”

“What?” She asked, shocked but so far keeping pace and intent on inviting herself in.

Steve smiled coldly, unlocking and stepping through the door fully enough to block her entry as he turned around. “Delighted. Goodbye.” He slammed the door, biting back an annoyed groan as locked it and heard knocking immediately start up.

He wondered what would happen in an hour when everyone started arriving for Hellfire since she was likely to still be there it seemed.

/\

“Hey, Harrington?” Gareth popped his head into the kitchen uncertainly.

Steve smiled warmly, carrying on setting out the snacks for the evening, “Yup, what’s up?”

“A couple ladies just invited themselves in and seem like they’re having the most polite fight ever.” Gareth glanced back over his shoulder as Eddie’s voice could be heard cheerfully greeting Granmama.

For a moment Steve frowned, “Was one of them the woman in a dress suit who’s been sat in her car all evening?”

“Yes. I know you said we shouldn’t let her in, but-”

“Don’t worry about it,” He interrupted the apology he could hear coming. “Perhaps if I let her say whatever it is she wants I’ll get her to actually leave.”

For all he hadn’t expected that to actually work, Abigail did leave to find a hotel after making her case for the head of the Addams family to him, often raising her voice as Granmama corrected, challenged or just interrupted her. He was sure that wasn’t the end of it though, especially when Nancy mentioned while picking Mike and Will up that this would be the fourth attempt Abigail had made to take control of the Addams fortune.

/\

Robin had come over to hang out and Dustin had refused to go home, even with Eddie giving everyone lifts. Both of them claimed they wanted to meet an actual Addams, not a Frump like Steve and his mother and had been getting along with Granmama for most of it.

Steve had been telling them about his first encounter with Abigail which had led to Robin and him joking over Starcourt and the Russian code, laughing between themselves since Dustin rarely found it funny given what happened next.

“Ah, young love.” Granmama smiled at the sight of the pair.

Dustin nodded, grinning broadly, “I know right! I keep telling them-”

“We’re not dating.” Steve and Robin cut off his insistence that that should date, matching glares on their faces as they stopped giggling together.

Granmama looked indignant at the words. “Only you reacted happily to her Russian. It’s only reasonable.”

“We went through stuff together around Russians. It’s not a romance language.” Steve explained, brow furrowed and shaking his head at how little sense she made.

“I’ll whip up some love dust. That’ll sort you.” Granmama nodded.

“No!” Both snapped, Steve adding on, “In fact you’re banned from the kitchen while you’re here. I’ll do the cooking as normal, thank you.”

Granmama nodded, “Well that’s just good manners, but I’ll still get some. It’ll do you good if the Russian reaction says anything. Just like the French one.”

Robin and Steve shared a look. “We’re not going to ask right now, and we’re never going to date. No need for any dust love or otherwise to fail at that.” Robin spoke for them this time. “It’s Platonic with a capital P.”

“And they’ll always say that.” Nancy agreed, knocking on the door frame. “That Abigail is a piece of work from everything I’ve read. Actually, before we all met Ophelia, that’s how I’d imagined her.”

“Can’t blame you there but it’s my father who acts like her.” Steve shrugged. “I think Will offered to have El try spying to figure out a way to get her to back off too.”

Nancy smiled, letting out a heavy breath. “Good. I really don’t like what I found.”

“I said Fester should’ve come with me. He might not be one for travel but he will shoot her in the back quick as you like. Might even hit her.” Granmama cheerfully suggested. “I’ve got my axe but that’s messy and I know Ophelia will plant daisies in our garden if I upset this house.”

“Hm, I could do that, but let’s see what secrets we can get to silence her first.” Nancy nodded, as if the suggestion was reasonable when they weren’t facing the Upside Down.

Steve held his hands up, looking commandingly between the two, “No. We do not condone murder outside of Hawkins events here. What would the kids start doing if we did?”

“Torture?” Granmama offered, as if that was a better suggestion.

He huffed, “Yes, they probably would start doing that too. So we won’t. See what you and El find out. Then blackmail her gone.”

/\

Apparently nothing more needed doing for Abigail to leave. She did stop by before going, asking Steve to call off the cousins or ghosts.

He played innocent and wondered if there were invisible Addams cousins or if El had decided to go further than just spying and instead moved things around to make Abigail think she was getting haunted. Either way she seemed to have given up on taking over the Addams family once more and that hopefully meant she’d leave him alone too.

“Morticia and Gomez will be visiting with the kids when school holidays start, but they’ll be happy to hear about you before then.” Granmama brightly said as a car pulled up outside. “And I’ll make sure they have love dust with them then.”

“You really don’t have to.” Steve gave a false smile. “I’ve got a partner already.”

He really hoped that meeting more of the Addams family wouldn’t get more pressures on him to date Robin, even if he was curious why reacting to a language being spoken would equate to love.

[telesodalite]

Sort of a ramble, sort of me just writing my thoughts out while I'm stuck with writer's block, but I keep thinking about how Fulcrum was in stasis for roughly 3 million years??

Like, that's a long time, even for Cybertronians. Not a really long time, not an entire lifespan. But still, it's a large chunk of a normal lifespan just gone. Poof.

One second you're crawling across the pockmarked terrain of an alien planet, surrounded by the sound of gunfire, and the shouting and screaming before and after each earth shuddering impact of another k-con hitting the ground. And then it's quiet. You're not there anymore. You're drifting somewhere between not alive and just asleep. Preserved somewhere in the background of a doomed body, ignored by time and space, still here, but also not.

And then there's sound. Not gunfire. Not shouting or screaming. Not the sounds that'll haunt you till your dying days, your own death sentence pounding in your head. No. Just voices, talking, standing out against a silent, dead world. Wondering. Joking. Bickering. Familiar. Just, not familiar to you. And you're awake. Pulled back from the nothingness you've been frozen in, consciousness tugged forwards with the yank of a fuel pump and the nearness of life.

These two moments are roughly 3 million years apart, but only minutes, maybe even seconds, to him. From a hectic harrowing battlefield, to an old silent graveyard in one blink.

How long did it take to really sink in? I mean, he seems to just roll with it. He doesn't seem particularly bothered. But like, what happened outside of what we see? How did he really feel?

Also, his body aged without him. While his mind preserved itself, freezing him as he was right then, his body was left to weather Clemency for all those years. No wonder it crumbled to dust when he jumped off the world sweeper. It's probably a miracle of some kind that it didn't just fall apart each time someone leaned on him.

And even after they rebuild him, give him a better, newer body. His spark, it's casing, all the irreplaceable core bits that make up their inner bodies, it aged in the time without him. Does he feel it? Does it make his body even more foreign to him?

Then he's also a technician with information that's 3 million years out of date. Lucky him that the scavengers probably weren't working with top of the line material. But still it's gotta be weird when faced with anything brand new, because a lot can change and progress in 3 million years, and now some of the knowledge he once prided himself in is obsolete.

Besides those things, his view of the galaxy, of the war, of their kind, of other kinds, is one of the few things actually pointed out when it comes to him being stuck in the past. So, how often were his old views challenged? Facts of life he held close proved to no longer true? There's 3 million years worth of new science, new beliefs, new words, new terms, new views.

And sure, some of it can be familiar, because they're an ever evolving kind, and they have patterns, core beliefs, repeating behaviors, but a lot of it's gonna be unfamiliar at the same time, because it's 3 million years worth of catch up, it's not like missing last week's trend.

In a way, it makes him a living relic of a bygone era for Decepticons. It would've been really interesting to have had that explored a little more.

[waywardsalt]

so. i've had an idea for a warrior cats fanfiction story, and have spent the last few years hammering out characters, the clans, how they work, the story... a whole lot of stuff. i've tried writing it before, and right now i don't have a current draft of early chapters, but I did recently write out a scene from much later in the story, and i'm pretty happy with it, soooo... here! a warrior cats fic scene i wrote in like an hour a week ago

By the time she led ShadeClan to the Gathering site, Emberstar felt her anxieties lessen. Her foreleg ached from the effort of the journey, but she kept her head high. Beside her, Acornfall glanced back at their clan, then nodded over to Emberstar. He led the clan down into the Gathering hollow, and Emberstar padded over to the slope up to the leader’s perch. PineClan and CliffClan cats were already quietly milling about in the hollow, and up on the overhang she could see Lakestar and Wolfstar waiting. There was no MoorClan scent among the gathered cats.

              Emberstar made her way up the slope she’d seen Gorsestar and Froststar before her traverse. It was a thin path, slowly becoming steeper and steeper as she slunk closer to the overhang, finally reaching the steep, gravelly slope that led up to the leaders’ perch. Down at the base of the cliff, she could see Acornfall joining the other deputies with a polite nod of his head, and Troutfoot was carefully weaving her way through the crowd to meet with the other healers. Emberstar twitched her whiskers when Lakestar and Wolfstar noticed her. She crouched and tensed her back legs and leapt up the slope.

              It wasn’t enough to reach the top, but she reached out with her forepaw and sunk her claws into the loose gravel and dug her back paws into the ground to keep from slithering back down. She slowly inched forward, moving a kittenstep at a time, but she kept her eyes fixed on the other leaders, more determined than ashamed of herself. Emberstar forced herself up the slope, but her heart skipped a beat when the gravel under her paw proved too loose to get a good enough grip- so close to the top, too. What a shame she had no other forepaw to lash out and find a grip with.

              Emberstar felt herself begin to slide back down the slope, but a pair of jaws grasped her by the scruff and hoisted her up onto the overhang. She clawed at the grass and stumbled a step when let go and turned to meet Wolfstar’s amused gaze. “Careful there, three-paw,” the CliffClan leader gruffly purred. “It’s bad luck to fall at your first Gathering as leader.” She brushed past Emberstar to sit back down next to Lakestar.

              With a huff, Emberstar followed her with a shake of her pelt. “I appreciate your help, but I would have been fine on my own. I suppose I owe you now?”

              Wolfstar’s whiskers twitched. “Are you saying ShadeClan is now in CliffClan’s debt?”

              The young leaders stared at each other, then broke out into amused purrs. Lakestar rolled her eyes and wrapped her tail around her paws. “So, you are ShadeClan’s leader now, Emberstar? Or is it still Emberblaze?”

              “It is Emberstar now. I visited the Moon Cavern for my lives only a few sunrises ago.”

              “May StarClan light your path as leader, then.” Lakestar stiffly dipped her head. Despite the brusque words, there was genuine respect in her pale eyes.

              Wolfstar’s own eyes were still bright with humor. “You’ll be great, I know it. What happened to Froststar, then?”

              Emberstar narrowed her eyes and turned her gaze to the gathered cats. “I’ll explain that once the Gathering begins. MoorClan is late tonight.” She surveyed the crowd of cats, peering straight down at the huddled healers. Sitting with her back to her PineClan clanmates, Flarelight was sitting close to Troutfrost. After a moment, she gazed up at the overhang, and her eyes met Emberstar’s. Her eyes grew wide and she stared at her littermate for a long moment until another healer got her attention. Then, as if she’d seen nothing, Flarelight flicked her tail and joined the conversation. Her twitching tail-tip was the only hint that she was distracted. Emberstar blinked. She’d become leader so recently that not even the other healers knew, much less the other clans’ warriors. In the crowd of CliffClan cats, she spotted Sunscorch, sitting with his fur brushing Moonwhisper’s, his eyes wide and his body stiff while he stared at his sister up on the overhang.

              Poor Sunscorch, so softhearted under those honed claws and strong limbs- he was likely to take the news of Froststar’s death the hardest. Emberstar held his gaze, blinked slowly, and turned her head to the sky. The moon was nearly overhead, and still MoorClan was absent.

              “You ought to start the Gathering now,” Wolfstar growled to Lakestar. “It’s newleaf, after all, and if MoorClan’s late then they’re late.”

              “We should wait,” Emberstar sharply mewed. “This is my first Gathering as leader, so it would be disrespectful to me as well as MoorClan if we begin without them. It may anger StarClan as well,” she finished in a murmur, flicking her tail-tip up at the sky. Wolfstar just bushed out her stormy gray fur and huffed.

              Lakestar gazed up at the sky. Emberstar looked over at her. For so long, as an apprentice, as a warrior, as the deputy, she’d never dared to be so close to the cold PineClan leader. But now, she was barely a tail-length from the sleek silver tabby, and they sat as equals in standing. Lakestar was likely at less than nine lives and Emberstar was without a right foreleg, but they were equals nonetheless.

              She was knocked from her thoughts by Wolfstar headbutting her. The larger cat nearly shoved her off-balance. “Glad to see that we’re both finally up here. I was waiting to see when you’d catch up, three-paw.”

              Emberstar licked Wolfstar’s ear. “You know I must take things slower than you.”

              “Who’d you pick as deputy?” Wolfstar leaned over the edge to inspect the group of deputies. “Hm- Acornfall?”

              “He’s a good warrior. Older than me by four seasons, so I trust his advice and his skill.”

              “I thought you would have picked Lavenderflash. Or maybe Darknose, you two always seemed close.”

              Emberstar gazed down at Lavenderflash, spotting the pure-black molly quickly- she was almost certain there was obvious fondness in her eyes as she looked at her former apprentice. “Lavenderflash is… young and still training her first apprentice. She is a good, loyal warrior, but not fit to be deputy or eventual leader in my mind. And Darknose…” The tom was sitting at the edge of the crowd, alone. “He is a possibility, but he still mourns his brother even all these moons later, so I don’t know if he would be the best choice.”

              Wolfstar made a sniff of approval, then her gaze snapped to the far hill. A yowl rang out, and the three leaders pricked their ears and the cats in the hollow turned to see MoorClan finally arrive, led by Applestar. Emberstar sat stiffly until she spotted Glowflame in the crowd, side-by-side with Orangeclaw. He joined the cats in the hollow with his clan while Applestar broke off to climb up to the overhang, and he seemed to murmur something to Orangeclaw before she angled her ears up at Emberstar. Glowflame looked up and spotted her, and his jaw dropped open. Emberstar couldn’t help but let out a purr of affection for her brother as he gaped in amazement at her.

              Applestar greeted the other leaders when he finally joined them, nodding briefly at Emberstar, and hurriedly sat down next to Lakestar, his mottled fur standing up along his spine. The leaders gave the cats in the hollow a few moments to settle down. In that time, Emberstar saw her littermates make their ways through the crowd towards each other. By the time Lakestar threw back her head and yowled to signify the beginning of the Gathering, Flarelight, Sunscorch, and Glowflame sat huddled together with their eyes trained on their sister. Emberstar met their gazes for just a heartbeat and felt the final icicles of her anxiety melt away.

She then turned her head to watch Lakestar as she began to announce her clan’s news for the moon, and reminded herself of what she had to announce when it was her turn. She was ShadeClan’s leader, now. StarClan had approved of her. Emberstar lifted her chin and, with a deep breath, finally settled into her place at the head of her clan.

[amischiefofmuses]

Fizzarolli Starter Call

LIKE for a random starter or REPLY if you want me to jump into DMs to plot!

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Happy house || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: just a cute fic of the Cameron family being one big happy family and infatuated with you and Rafe’s daughter 🥰

Warnings: breastfeeding (?) apart from that this is all fluff

Word count: 1388

A/n: this was so cute to write 🥹🥹 loved writing the fact that the Cameron family is tight-knit and love one another

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider be @yoonitos

“Got everything?” Rafe glanced back at you, his hands full with bags laden with mostly Mabel’s things. You hummed contentedly, one hand gently adjusting the bucket hat on Mabel’s head while her plushy little hands playfully reached for your face, her giggles filling the air.

“We’re not late are we?” You called out as the two of you boarded the Cameron’s luxurious yacht. “Hmm? Not really, they can wait,” Rafe grinned, glancing around as you shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “They’re here! They’re here!” Wheezie’s voice echoed excitedly from above deck, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps rushing towards you.

You shared an amused glance with Rafe as he shook his head affectionately. “Wheezie, slow down!” Sarah’s voice called out in a mixture of exasperation and amusement, just before Wheezie came bounding around the corner, closely followed by Sarah, Rose, and Ward.

“Hey!” You greeted them warmly, arms open for hugs all around. Wheezie and Ward gravitated towards you and Mabel, their faces lighting up at the sight of the youngest Cameron family member.

Wheezie squealed, bouncing up and down in excitement as she gently pinched Mabel’s cheek. “Hey, easy there,” Rafe interjected firmly, earning a glare from his younger sister, though you couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s okay, Rafe, she’s being gentle,” you reassured him with an affectionate smile, his protective nature endearing as always. “Wanna take her, dad?” you offered to Ward, who nodded eagerly. “May I?” he asked softly, reaching out to cradle Mabel in his arms.

“Of course you can, she’s your granddaughter,” you chuckled, leaning in closer as Mabel reached out to Ward, her little arms outstretched in anticipation. You moved closer to Rafe’s side, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice low with admiration as he whispered, “They all look so happy.”

Jesus, Sarah. Stop shoving your phone in her face,” Rafe groaned, his tone edged with mild annoyance as he watched Sarah snap yet another 0.5 photo of Mabel. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the sight, knowing that it was always Sarah’s candid photos of Mabel that Rafe eventually looked back on with a chuckle.

“Send them to me,” you mouthed to Sarah, who winked in response, both of you giggling like schoolgirls. “What are you giggling about, hmm?” Rafe asked, looking down at you with a smile, his irritation quickly fading. “Nothing, nothing,” you said, your smile widening. “Just excited to get to the island and have lunch together as a family again.”

Rafe’s smile softened, appreciating how much you valued these family moments. Before he could say more, Rose chimed in, glancing at her watch. “Okay, I think we should move this upstairs, don’t you think?” she suggested. Everyone agreed, and the group began making their way up to the spacious upper deck. The Bahamas sun was bright overhead, casting a warm glow over the yacht.

“You know, if you ever need a babysitter, I’m right here,” Wheezie offered, linking her arm through yours as you ascended the stairs. She batted her eyelashes playfully, making you giggle at her antics. Rafe, close behind, scoffed. “Yeah, as if I’m letting you look after my kid by yourself.”

Wheezie rolled her eyes dramatically. “And why not?” Rafe gave her an incredulous look. “Remember the time you almost burnt down the house because you wanted to heat up chicken nuggets in the microwave?” Wheezie huffs, “That’s not fair!” She protests, her cheeks flushing. “I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to put metal in the microwave!”

Your jaw dropped in mock horror as you imagined the scene. “Exactly,” Rafe said, patting Wheezie’s head with a teasing smile. “You’re not looking after Mabel by yourself. End of story.” He walked away, leaving Wheezie pouting with her arms folded. You squeezed her arm reassuringly. “Maybe you can help out when I’m around,” you suggested, trying to lift her spirits. Wheezie perked up a bit, her eyes brightening at the idea. “Deal!” she said, grinning.

~

“Guys! You have to tan with me, the UV rays are insane right now!” Sarah called out from one of the outdoor loungers, her phone in hand as she checked the weather app. “I’ll be right there!” you shouted back, finishing up changing Mabel’s clothes. You handed her to Rose and Ward, who eagerly took over entertaining their granddaughter with coos and smiles.

Rafe trailed behind you, intrigued by the idea of getting some sun. He settled next to you on the lounger, stretching out and letting the warmth of the sun wash over him.“How are your boobs not saggy?” Sarah suddenly blurted out as she watches you tie up your hair, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Sarah!” Rafe hissed, shooting her a disapproving look.“Shit, sorry. Is that a bad thing to ask?” Sarah’s face flushed slightly, realizing the bluntness of her question. You couldn’t help but laugh, finding the situation amusing. Sarah joined in, her laughter a bit more nervous.

“I’m just asking. All my friends said that your boobs begin to sag because your baby is always sucking on them,” she explained, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “Which one of your friends has a fucking baby at your age?” Rafe interjected, his expression one of pure disbelief.

“None of them. They were just saying that,” Sarah shrugged nonchalantly. You giggled, reaching over to rub sunscreen on Rafe’s face where he’d missed a spot. “I think it’s different for everyone. I mean, I hope mine don’t sag,” you said, glancing down at your chest and giving them a light, playful touch.

“You have such nice tits, it’s really unfair, ” Sarah sighed dramatically, leaning back and closing her eyes against the sun. Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly done with the conversation. “I’m putting my AirPods in,” he announced, inserting them with a huff as you and Sarah chuckled.

~

“Mabel, come here,” Rafe clapped his hands with a gentle yet encouraging tone. Mabel babbled happily, steadying herself before taking a few small, determined steps towards you and Rafe; you were nestled against his chest as you cheered her on.

“Keep coming, sweetie,” you cooed softly, your hands ready to catch her. Eventually, Mabel reached you and crashed into your waiting arms with a squeal. You kissed her chubby cheek affectionately, “Good job, baby girl!” You lifted her up in the air, as she squealed with joy.

Rafe took the moment to take a photo, capturing the pure happiness on both your faces. As Rafe looked through the many photos already taken, you couldn’t help but notice how Mabel lingered close to your chest.

“Are you hungry, bels?” You asked gently, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. Glancing at your phone, you noticed it was about time for Mabel’s next feeding.

With Rafe still focused on his phone, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked through the photos of you and Mabel, you adjusted your bikini top and began to nurse Mabel.

Noticing the quietness, Rafe briefly looks down, his eyes widening slightly. “Jesus, kid,” he muttered under his breath, quickly reaching behind him to grab his shirt.

“What? Mabel was hungry,” you said innocently, as Mabel peers up to the both of you. Rafe didn’t mind you breastfeeding in public, if his baby girl was hungry, she was hungry. But he always made sure to help you cover up with a blanket when you puly down your top, his protective instincts kicking in.

Rafe’s gaze darted around, making sure no one was watching. “You should’ve let me know beforehand so I could’ve helped you cover up,” he murmured, adjusting the shirt and to peek at Mabel.

You chuckled softly, appreciating his concern and love. Mabel watched the two of you with wide, curious eyes as she nursed contentedly. "Next time I will," you assured him, reaching over to pat his thigh affectionately.

yourusername

Liked by itssarahcameron, christoper_thorton, rosejcameron and 85,208 others

@/rafemfcameron we’ve got the cutest baby 🥰

view more comments

rafemfcameron: damn right mamas

↘️ eloise_cameron: I just puked 🤢

↘️ rafemfcameron: throwing u off the boat

itssarahcameron: SQUISHY

↘️ rafemfcameron: are you calling my kid fat?

↘️ yourusername: HAHAHAHAHA

christoper_thorton: guys let me babysit her again

↘️ yourusername: you tried offering her one of your brownies top….

↘️ rafemfcameron: im sorry, he did what?

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,816 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s warm outside. 

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas. 

You’d take anything over Texas. 

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end. 

But at what cost? 

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.” 

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them. 

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.” 

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely. 

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice. 

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours. 

You can’t. 

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him. 

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets. 

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” 

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer. 

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together. 

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill. 

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did, how we left you there. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are. 

That doesn't make things hurt any less. 

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller. 

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.” 

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas. 

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand. 

If, not when. 

Maybe they're finally getting the message. 

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you. 

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” He says. 

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench. 

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk. 

It hurts. 

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once. 

This feels like torture. 

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself. 

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking. 

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating. 

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.” 

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out. 

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...” 

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you. 

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either. 

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.” 

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better. 

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says. 

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning. 

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.” 

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy. 

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl. 

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder. 

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing. 

Sometimes you don’t want to. 

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury. 

What if the rest of your life is like this? 

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears. 

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain. 

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better. 

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better. 

You’re so tired of being like this. 

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route. 

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door. 

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt. 

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car. 

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack. 

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident. 

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what. 

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.” 

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks. 

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.” 

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.” 

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat. 

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back. 

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.” 

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.” 

“And on top of everything that happened...” 

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.” 

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.” 

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.” 

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.” 

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.” 

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.” 

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.” 

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs. 

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.” 

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.” 

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.” 

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.” 

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.” 

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston. 

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane. 

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by. 

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror. 

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows. 

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.” 

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks. 

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.” 

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says. 

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life. 

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time. 

She'll be there every step of the way. 

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone. 

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.” 

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.” 

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.” 

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.” 

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road. 

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse. 

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse. 

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better. 

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better. 

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious. 

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer. 

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort. 

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground. 

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.” 

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly. 

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain. 

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago. 

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them. 

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil. 

How far you still have to go. 

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it. 

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.  

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway. 

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside. 

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?” 

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says. 

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says. 

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean. 

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door. 

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated. 

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room. 

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile. 

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint. 

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.” 

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud. 

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight. 

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door. 

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now. 

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse. 

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.” 

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get. 

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her. 

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile. 

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.” 

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything. 

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.” 

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks? 

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean. 

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.” 

You can hear it. 

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things. 

No. 

You’d know that sound anywhere. 

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to. 

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning. 

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want. 

No. 

You need to do this. 

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment. 

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe. 

In and out. 

Nice and slow. 

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest. 

No. 

You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick. 

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center. 

You can do it here. 

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day. 

No. 

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse. 

You need to know. 

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning. 

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you. 

How easily you could slip away, though. 

Well...in theory. 

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state? 

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have? 

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well. 

He could be waiting right outside the door. 

No. 

They’d know. 

They’d protect you. 

They failed. 

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door. 

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright. 

You have to know. 

You have to be certain. 

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you. 

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

You can smell it. 

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found. 

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home. 

How simple life was back then. How easy life was. 

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again. 

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas. 

Anything is better than Texas. 

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch. 

You can see it. 

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care. 

You can’t care. 

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week. 

Only a week. 

So much has happened in a week. 

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You needed certainty. You needed to know. 

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it. 

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea. 

NEXT ->

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[xinganhao]

🙇‍♂️ svt when you get jealous.

anon → "Could I request SVT reaction to you being jealous? 👀?"

⌗ ┆love a flip of a good trope d(･∀･○) pls note that the ff. members feature manips/edits, so credits go to the rightful owners: jeonghan, joshua, soonyoung, wonwoo

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: f!reader, established relationship, pet names, jealousy 🤭, fluff/crack/etc., [short] headcanons under the cut.

🙇‍♂️ headcanons .ᐟ

— "oh, boy, here we go again" ✩ junhui, wonwoo, mingyu, seungkwan, chan.

anyone dating junhui or mingyu have got to be god's strongest soldiers. both boys would be a little exasperated at your jealousy but they also react to it in their own ways. junhui, for his part, will always crack in the end. he may goad you about all his romance scenes but he's quick to switch up when he thinks he's gone too far. mingyu, on the other hand, focuses on making you realize how ridiculous you are for the (mostly) unfounded jealousy. when that doesn't work, he'll try to distract you with something else. it's not often that you get jealous if you're dating wonwoo— if anything, you might be envious about all the time he spends on his games. when it comes to people, though? he's not about to tolerate you thinking that way. he'll shoot you down quicker than any other member does with his. no pickup lines or pleasantries, here; just the straight truth. seungkwan's reassurances are just a little more on the teasing side but they're never any less sincere. he's the type to be very conscious about not giving you a reason to be jealous in the first place. meanwhile, chan may sometimes be a little more on the clueless side, though he'll always get there eventually. does he joke around about it? most definitely. will he be on your doorstep to pick a (playful) about your jealousy until you can do nothing but succumb to his charm? also yes.

— "so help me, god" ✩ jeonghan, soonyoung, jihoon, vernon.

jihoon would be at an absolute loss™️ in the face of your jealousy. it's a rare thing, for you to be envious of anything outside of the time he spends on work, so he will try to tread lightly. the way he fumbles about attempting to reassure you is endearing enough for you to forget what you were so upset about in the first place. jeonghan is one of the rare ones who would try to incite your jealousy; what can he say? he likes poking the bear sometimes. but he's also the image of someone who can dish it but can't take it. if he's met with your petulance, he'll fall on his knees in any/all attempt to get back in your good graces. soonyoung's plenty oblivious when it comes to what might make you jealous. you can expect him to pull out the pout and puppy dog eyes when trying to convince you not to be upset. and, oh– vernon is oblivious to the point where it's almost painful. he won't get that someone's into him until you point it out. when you do, though, he'll do everything in his power to allay your concerns.

— "you're the only one" ✩ seungcheol, joshua, seokmin, minghao.

minghao comes from a family where his parents only have eyes for each other, so it makes sense for him to also be the same. reassurance comes easy for him; he'll never joke about your feelings and he'll talk you through it, even. at any given chance, he makes it abundantly clear that he's spoken for. there's no hiding from joshua, either. he's too perceptive for his own good and he'll know if you're jealous, even if you try to hide it. he never blames you for how you're feeling and his focus is on how he can avoid making you feel that way on the future. seungcheol is the type who'd be a little endeared, even, that you get jealous. he likes it if his partner is a little possessive and territorial. you can tell that he's smug about it, though ultimately he'll play in to your little charade. seokmin, on the flipside, is a big believer of nipping things in the bud. if he thinks anything might make you jealous, he's already keeping you from overthinking before it can start. he's not going to have you questioning yourself; not on his watch.

[myladysapphire]

You belong with me

you and jace were childhood friends, you never left eachothers side growing up, but that all changed once you both went off to university.

CW: MDI, 18+, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, angst, jealousy, unrequited love (kinda), love confessions, not proofread!

word count: 5,896

modern Jace x fem!reader

Masterlist

a/n based of taylor swifts you belong with me, lyrics and music video.i also have very little knowledge of american uni or football, but i tried my best though!

You and Jace had grown up, side by side. Your mothers had been the best of friends, and so naturally you both were also. For your entire lives you knew everything about each other, your traits your habits, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. You made every decision together, especially the decision to go to Dragonstone university together.

And that decision changed everything.

It wasn’t a surprise that Jace became so popular, he always had been. Always so able to draw a crowd and make friends in any situation.

And you, you had always been one to take a backseat. Happy in the friends you had, and never one to put yourself out there as he did.

And sadly, that seemed to be your first mistake.

He had joined the football team, finding new friends and a new crowd quickly.

You stuck to your old friends. Making small efforts to know the endless crowds of people at university.

And so, he and you started to spend less time together, and more and more time apart.

And then he got a girlfriend.

Sara Snow.

The cheer captain.

And the sister of his new best friend, Cregan Stark.

And suddenly you weren’t apart of his life anymore. You had found out he had a girlfriend from sitting on the bleachers at one of his games and seeing her run towards him and shove her tongue down his throat.

As time went on, your texts to one another became less and less, your replies delayed, and sporadic, and his ever more so.

Your study sessions stop, nights in together became nights in apart.

It hurt, you had loved him for so long, as a friend and a lover. Not that he knew. All you could do no was stare in envy as you lost your best friend and never even got a chance to say goodbye.

That year was a strange one, you now watched each other from the outskirts, you didn’t know each other every thought or where they were at all times.

Ther person you looked to in every room, no longer there, no longer was he the person you would text at every opportunity, or share looks as you reacted to what other people were saying.

Now you only knew each other in passing, a few texts here and there, mostly about your course, or if you were going home for summer or the weekend.

And when you both were home, it was so different. Once you would spend all day together, planning your days with each other. And now, you may sit in the same room, but little more than small smiles and small talk was shared between you.

And the few times you did feel you could talk to him; he would be, interrupted by his new friends coming to whisk him away.

The last three years you started to get used to not having Jace as a constant presence, instead you found great comfort in your other friends, you had always been close to them, and apart of you was grateful as you began to realise the love of female friendships, rather than just the love of Jacearys Strong.

It was Friday, the week before the big football game. The game everyone talked nonstop about, even Jace, as he had messaged you asking if you were coming to the game.

You had yet to respond.

Once you were his biggest cheerleader, sitting on the bleachers shouting his name. Now you no longer cheered his name, though you always sent him a kind smile when he did look for you in the crowd.

But unlike before you no longer went to every game, and as time went on you went to less and less.

 “Are you going to the game on Friday?” Maris asked. You were all sat in a private study room, preparing for your midterms.

You shrugged “maybe, I’m not sure yet”

“of course, we all are! It’s the big game, everyone’s talked about it nonstop!” Baela said beside you, “and I also don’t want to miss watching Cregan stark all hot and sweaty, now would I?” she said with a laugh, she and him had been casually hooking up for a past year, and with the way he looked at her she was sure they were soon to become more.

You laughed, “perhaps for you maybe, not that I have anyone worth ogling over”.

“Sure, you don’t” Heleana giggled from the other side of the table “poor Jacey would miss you terribly if you don’t go”.

“Oh please, he wouldn’t care if I was there or not” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh? Aside from his on again off again weird little thing with Sara Snow, Jace is, besotted with you!” Maris interjected.

“she’s not wrong” Rhaena spoke,

“Really?” you shook your head, “perhaps once, but he rarely speaks more than a few words to me anymore”.

“Perhaps that’s because he realised how hot you are” Baela said, sending you a wink.

“Oh gods, do you remember the look on his face when you slept with Justin Lannister in our first year” Maris laughed, “he looked like a kicked puppy!”

“Especially when he saw the hickey he had left” Heleana added.

You shook your head “I think he was more disgusted with the fact I slept with Justin than anything else”.

“hmm” Rhaena hummed, “and when you and Aemond dated in high school, what about then?”

“Oh gods, don’t bring that up” Heleana grumbled, “it still brings me nightmares, from when I walked in- “she fakes gagged at the memory.

“Okay stop it, I think you’ve all proved your point!” you sighed, “maybe once he had a crush on me, but not anymore!”

They all shared a look.

“And what about your crush on him?”

“What crush?” you said defensively.

They all laughed.

You stood up dramatic, gathering your books, “if I go to the game will you all shut up?”

“We make no promises!” Maris said, laughing once more.

“Ughh, I don’t know why I put up with you lot” you grumbled, as you went to leave.

“Because you love us” Heleana, answered.

“And Jacey too” Baela added.

you rolled your eyes as you left, heading home for the weekend.

You returned home often, your mother was all alone with out you there, though you did often find Rhaenyra, Jace’s mother, in her company. You loved seeing them both, finding Rhaenrya presence to be as much as a comfort as your own mothers.

Its one of the reasons your friendship with Jace fading into what it was now, hurt so much.

Before you had practically lived at Jace’s house growing up and now you rarely went over there, despite living next door, your bedroom windows facing one another. It hurt, seeing the life you knew suddenly disappear. To spend the summers in your own home, having your friends come to yours rather than to his, especially when you could see him on his bed, and you on yours.

He had changed, though not so much that he seemed a stranger to you, though his company was certainly strange. He knows hung out around Aegon a lot more, though he had once avoided him as often as he could. You were glad he had yet to adopt Aegon’s personality, the self-entitlement mixed with the self-loathing. Jace remained kind, his gaze often on yours whenever you were in the same room together. Something you had heard Aegon mock on several occasions.

As you walked into your house, the taste of cinnamon and sound of laughter flooded your senses. It was no surprise to see your mother in the kitchen, and even less of a surprise to see Rhaenyra with her, a smile graced your face as you approached the pair.

“mama” you greeted, “Nyra”.

“Oh darling, I didn’t know you were coming home!” your mother greeted, pulling you into a hug.

“I came home to study, I couldn’t focus with all the football stuff going on” you sighed, dumping your bag on the kitchen table.

Rhaenyra laughed, “yes Jace has talked nonstop about the football” she then looked at you with a sad look, “are you planning to go?”

“I’m not sure yet” you replied, stealing one of your mother’s cinnamon rolls from the counter.

“I’m sure Jace wants you there, he misses your rituals you know” Nyra spoke, coming to sit down at the table you now sat at.

“He does?” you did too, he was the reason you got into football in the first place and watching him without your rituals or watching games without Jace’s constant commentary.

“I know he does” she smiled, reaching for your hand, as your mother moved towards to the table.

“Believe it or not, darling, he talks about you often” she gave you a teasing look.

You shook your head, “if only he talked to me and not about me more” moving to stand up and head for your room.

“He said he was coming back this week, perhaps he will” Nyra called out as you started to walk up the stairs.

As you lay on your bed, your eyes moving to investigate Jace’s room. You laid there for a while, hoping they would open.

And they did. He had clearly just returned home just like yourself, his face tired, as he moved to sit on his bed, his face downcast, no smile in sight.         

You moved to sit up, and as you did, he saw you, a small smile gracing his face.

He sent you a small shy wave, and for a moment you felt as if you and he were back to normal.

But then his smile disappeared as his phone rang.

She tried to not watch as he argued with someone, his girlfriend you assumed. They always argued, she was always upset about something he had said, she never got his humour, not like you once did.

You couldn’t think of anything they truly had in common, then again you didn’t know either of them, not anymore.

On paper It made sense them being together, she was cheer captain and he on the football team, whilst you, you were on the bleachers, watching the game and waiting for his victory, whilst she would cheer him on, in his direct view. Ever the supporting act, and you the extra.

Before Uni, you and been his biggest and though you still supported him, it hurt a little seeing her cheer his name, especially since you never knew if they were off or on again until her, she shoved her tongue down his throat.

You and he used to have a ritual before each game. the day before you would always bunk of school, and he would always somehow convince you to join him on his run, you would run side by side, your phones listening to same playlist. (You and he had always had the exact same music taste, music she didn’t like, if the  though few parties hosted by his frat and her sorority were anything to go off of)Then you would spend the night staying up and watching the same three movies, before falling into a sugar induced coma only to be woken up by Nyra and Luke aggressively shilling you both awake screaming that your going to be late, and when you did finally wake up Jace would always force you both to take an ice bath, claiming it to be a good way to wake you up. You never believed him, and it would take him pulling you into the water with him for you to join him.

You would be there for every game and event, cheering from the bleachers.

And now as you watched him arguing with his girlfriend, you wished you knew what they were saying, there issues. A part of you regretted not trying harder to stay friends with him, even though it was him who moved away from you, not you away from him.

You reached down under your bed, trying to find the old sketchbook you used to use to talk to Jace before you both had phones.

You didn’t have his number anymore, having deleted it off your phone, though you remembered it off by heart, a part, something you could never bring yourself to forget it.

You didn’t want to text him, it didn’t feel right, you are reaching out first almost didn’t feel right either but eh looked hurt and you deep down still cared.

Finding a pen you quickly wrote, “you, okay?” Finding a pen you quickly wrote, “are you okay?”

He had sat down on his bed, head in his hands before looking up to see you turn the paper around.

A smile graced his face as he shrugged and reached for his own sketchbook and pen.

“Tired of drama” he wrote.

You laughed a little at his message, writing “sorry” with a sad face beside it, shrugging as you turned the paper around

And he shook his head, moving to stand up as you went to write something else, only for him to shut his curtain before he could see what you wrote. 

You shrugged of his easy dismissal, and how so few words were exchanged before he decided to end the conversation.

You had finished you studying, content and ready for your exams, so blasting your music on full volume you started to dance around your room.

Unbeknownst to you, he watched you dance, a smile pulling at his face as he realised you were the same as always. You danced like no one was watching singing along to the songs as you did. And he smiled, laughing at your antics as he remembered how you used to pull him up and dance with you.

He regretted how he ended his friendship with abandoning you, he wasn’t even sure why he did it. He knew he hurt you. He feltBu, for his own selfish somehow, he had made gain. He had made new friends; he, he was popular and on the uni football team. He liked the spotlight always had and was half to have all these new friends. He had made a great bond with but in doing so he lost his truest friend and the woman he loved.

He had decided to talk to you, to apologise and make up for what he did. So, as he saw you at outside the bench outside both your houses he came over and sat beside you. So, as he saw yous at outside the bench outside both your houses he came over and say beside you.

“hey” you heard a voice say beside you, as you turned your head to see Jace sit beside you.

“hey” you said back, as your hair falling in front of your face. He reached his hand forward, to brush the hair out of your eyes, and tucking it behind your ear.

 “How have you been?” he asked, his hand lingering slightly. You stared at him fro a moment, he still dressed the same, with the same worn-out jeans, the same smile, but with better hair.

You supposed you looked entirely different, though at the same time you hadn’t changed either. Your curled hair was no longer a frizzy messed, but well maintained. You didn’t wear your glasses much anymore, now favouring contacts. He seemed to smile as he took you in, staring at your eyes.

“I’m good, you?”

“Good, excited for the game…” he kept talking and it felt like old times again, you thought, it was so easy, to return to how it once was, chatting about nothing in particular.

He smiled as he spoke to you, happily chatting away. His smile was the same as always, a smile you sworn could light up a town.

“I haven’t seen you in a while” you said after a pause.

“yeah” he said awkwardly, scratching his head “I’m sorry about that, I never meant to- “a car pulled up, with Sara Snow in it.

He got up suddenly, mumbling goodbye as he did. His smile had faded, and turned into a forced smile, the kind of smile you gave to a stranger you passed in the hallway, as he got into her car. She instantly pulled him in for a kiss, her eyes staring you down as she did.

You had never actually talked to her before, never known anyone who had, but you did know Cregan, though not well, and he rarely said anything nice about his sister.

They drove away after that, Jace looking at you over his shoulder as they did.

The rest of the day you kept too yourself, focusing on studying. Jace had yet to return home, the light off in his room. Not that you were checking.

He had sent you a text, “sorry”, nothing more. You hadn’t replied, you didn’t even know what to say.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the light in his room turn on.

He walked in with a downtrodden look. He had spent the whole day with her and felt only regret on not spending it with you.

He and sara were on and off again, never anything serious, no feelings past lust. Especially after how she talked about you today. He ended it officially, and he couldn’t be happier. Especially when he saw yous at at your bed.

He reached under his bed for his sketchbook, reminiscing on how even as children you couldn’t spend an hour with out talking to one another.

It had all changed after uni, and he regretted not dragging you with him as he changed.

“hey” he wrote holding it up hoping you would look, and as luck would have it you did.

You seemed unsure as you yourself grabbed your own sketchbook, writing the words.

“what’s up?”

“I wanted to see if you were okay”.

You furrowed your brows “yeah?”

He sent you a small smile, before grabbing his phone and calling you.

“Hey?” you answered, your tone nervous.

“Hey!” he said trying to lighten your mood a little, “i’m sorry about earlier it won’t happen again”.

Yous kissed your teeth nodding your head, “right” his actions early hadn’t supposed you, they only made you realise that you and he won’t ever return to how you were before. Choosing each other first always, and never up and leaving each other mid conversation.

“I…. i broke up with her, officially”.

You hummed, he nervously coughed.

“I I know I hurt you when I started dating her, and i…I am so sorry, I just got so caught up in the idea of it all, these…these past few years have been a torment to me, watching as you seemed perfectly okay with us not…not being us anymore and I didn’t know how to…how to talk to you or-“

“i wasn’t perfectly okay with it” you interrupted him “at not point was I okay with loosing my best friend” you shook your head, glaring at him through the window “I tried to talk to you  and you shook me off, you chose her over an 18  year long friendship, how would I be okay with It!”

“I didn’t!” he said quickly, his face panicked, “I-I I messaged you I swear I did I sent you so many messages and you never replied”.

“No, you didn’t, I get the odd one but the second is as her shove her tongue down your throat I haven’t received these “many messages” you claim to have sent”.

“what?” he looked shocked through the window, “I told you about her, how I got drunk and slept with her at a party and how she wouldn’t take no as an answer, you never replied, I sent you countless texts about going to study together or hanging out and you never showed up!”

“What! You never showed up when I asked you!” you were near shouting now.

“You never asked me- “

“Neither did you!”

You heard your mum call you are asking if you were okay. You went silent, “we can’t do this over the phone”.

“Meet me at the backdoor” you looked at him nodding your head.

“hey” you said as Jace opened his back door, pulling it closed behind him.

“hey” he said moving towards you, “look, clearly there was some reason we never got these texts”.

You looked at him in disbelief, shaking your head, “gods Jace I didn’t realise you were so blind!” you laughed, “look I don’t know her or anything about her but, are you sure Sara never used your phone and maybe deleted the messages?”

“Umm…no?” he said unsure, “why would she do that”.

“Oh, please Jace, you and I have known each other our whole lives, and when we first started uni, we were acting like a married couple, she probably wanted me out the way so she could date you”.

“But we weren’t…we’ve never- “he stuttered awkwardly.

“Have you never once thought of me-?”

He cut you off, “no!” he said it too fast, so fast that you were unsure if he meant it.

“Really? Because I have, I did” you replied, sending him a shy look. You had hopped he had to and that you are saying this would make him say it in return.

He looked at you shocked, not expecting your admission, then his face turned guilty.  “I know” he said looking down, “but at the time I- I saw you nothing more than a…a friend and so I…I dated Sara to push you away in hope you would stop seeing me as more than a friend.” He scratched his head awkwardly, looking down his eyes filled with guilt.

 “oh” that’s all you could say. It was the first time you had ever admitted you had actually liked him, and to be rejected so clearly. To know the reason why he was with Sara, the reason he was with her in the first place was to get rid of you, it hurt more than three years of only passing words and fading friendship.

“I. I’m sorry I… I broke up with her though”.

You laughed a humourless laugh, almost in disbelief “I well that makes what you said better” you scoffed, truing around to leave.

He grabbed your arm, “No…I” he whispered your name, “I… I do like you like that… I’m just before her id dint realise my feelings for you and I do know…”

You scoffed, “right… so it took fucking another woman and ignoring me for three years, to save me from my feeling, made you realise you liked me to?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

You laughed, a short scoff of a laugh, “by the gods Jace you’re an idiot” this time when he grabbed your arm as you went to leave you only shook him off, storming up to your room and leaving the curtains shut for the rest of the weekend.

That week you swear you saw Jace everywhere. He seemed to follow you almost.

Though you were both doing the same course, meaning 90% of your lectures were together.

“Why is Jace following you?” Maris asked as you both walked out of your seminar.

“Oh gods, I haven’t told you, have I?”

She laughed, intrigued, “no, what happened”.

You looked down laughing as you tried to tell her, “Well Jace and I finally talked and he… admitted he liked me?”

“What!”

“that’s not it… but he also told me that he knew I liked him and that was the reason he started dating Sara… so I would stop liking him”.

“What the hells?” Baela said as she caught up to the pair of you, “did I just hear that right”.

“don’t even get me started! But I basically told him he was an idiot; I mean who hurts someone like that!”

“Idiots!” Maris and Baela said simultaneously.

And as they did you saw Jace appear from around the corner, two coffees in hand. He had a hopeful look in his eyes as he walked towards you.

“Speak of the devil” you mumbled, as you turned to your friends, “I��ll be back in a minute” you said as you walked towards him.

“Jace” you greeted. “What do you want now?”

“To apologise” he said handing you a coffee, “I really am sorry, I never should have done what I did, and I should have told you, and not kept it from you.” He looked at you, his face kin to puppy scrounging for food.

“Then why did you?” You said as you ushered him to an empty room.

“I was scared. “He admitted, smiling shyly, “all my life I had loved you and everyone told me you did too, and then. then you and Aemond started dating and I thought they all were lying to me and how could you ever love me and when you could be with him”

In truth it took you until after your relationship with Aemond to realise your feelings for Jace, in fact it was Aemond who broke up with you because he saw said feelings first.

He continued. “And then you broke up and everyone was telling me to take a chance, and then uni started, and I got scared and realised that you did I fact like me too. But for some reason I was convinced that being in a relationship in uni would only tear us apart. So… so I decided to take a step back and stop whatever romantic feelings we had- “

“That wasn’t your choice to make Jace, maybe for yourself but my own feelings? You had no right!”

“I know… I know. I was- I am an idiot and…I’m sorry, truly.”

You sighed, you could see he was really sorry, and yet an apart of you didn’t want to forgive him. But another part of you wanted to jump into his arms and forgive him.

“I want us to be friends.” He said, with a hopeful gaze. And your heart broke all other again.

“no” you stepped back, “you know of my feelings, and… I-I can’t be your friend, I can’t ignore those feelings, I won’t, I can’t” tears welled in your eyes at the look on his face.

“I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have loved you my whole life, and I have already screwed that up, I can’t risk whatever we have now for a relationship.” “we have nothing, we are not friends, not lovers, nothing. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain”.

“No, I have everything to lose, I have already lost your friendship, I can’t risk breaking your heart and loosing you forever!”

“So, because you’re afraid of the possibility of us breaking up you won’t try?” you shook your head, “I can’t believe you! I don’t understand what you want! And you clearly don’t see what I want either!” you went to leave, “I can’t anymore Jace, I just want, I can’t look at you without my heartbreaking. You broke my heart and our friendship once before because you feared losing me forever, well know I think you might have lost me anyway.”

You left without another word or a single glance.

The week passed slowly, your friends were a great comfort and your exams seemed to breeze past you, but the nagging in your back of your mind was constant.

The regret and want. The want to see Jace, to take back what you said and make him realise what an idiot he was. And the regret from not grabbing his face and kissing him.

You and he had been each other’s first kiss, using the excuse of ‘practice’ to cover up you real feelings. It had been awkward, with nose and teeth clashing, and then before you knew it the kisses became perfect, casual even. You had both been sure it was the start of something. And then you ruined it by saying yes when Aemond asked you on a date. You never regretted dating him, he was your first love, your first everything. But not your first kiss. He made you realise what love was and that it was what you had with Jace all along.

Then University started, you lived in the same halls, saw each other every moment of everyday, cooking together, studying together. And then the casual kissing came back. Sweet kisses goodbye or good morning. And then one day you had lingered, and he had pushed back. Your daily routine faded, and then it all happened. The football team and Sara Snow.

It would of been better had he just stopped kissing you, stopped initiating the kisses. Instead, he left you, and now you had done the same to him.

And yet here you stood, getting ready for the big football game, with all your friends.

You wore a jersey, his. The day he got on the team he had gotten you both a jersey. It had sat unworn in a box under your bed since then. It fit perfectly, his name written in bold on the back, alongside his lucky number. The number you had picked, the number that was conveniently todays date.

You stared into the mirror taking a deep breath as your friends all readied themselves. You weren’t sure exactly what you planned to do, but either way Jace would regret ever saying no to dating you.

Everyone was at the game, including the entirety of Jace’s family, you found yourself sat next to Rhaenrya and Luke. You sat right at the front, practically, on the field, meaning Jace could see you, and more importantly you in his jersey. They had all taken notice of your jersey, with Harwin sending you a teasing look.

It was loud and chaotic, the entirety of the university at the event and for good cause as Jace’s team had won.

You hadn’t really paid any attention, your eyes solely focused of Jace.  

He made eye contact with you, solely you and came rushing forward. You stood up moving yourself and before you knew it, he had sweeped you up into is arms. Spinning you around, he whispered like a chant “I’m so sorry, I regret everything I never should have- “

You shut him up, taking his mouth with yours in a slow passionate kiss. Moaning into each other’s mouths, you realised you both had got on lost in the crowd, as everyone had run into the field. Leaving you to find a moment alone, to finally reconnect and admit your feelings.

“Come with me” he said grabbing your hand, leading you away from the crowd and field.

“I’ve never taken anyone here before” he said once you finally reached your destination, it was a sweet little outlook with a view of the island. “The day I found it I wanted to save it, for you”.

You looked at each other, hands entwined.

“I love you” you both said in unison, bringing a smile to each of your faces.  

“I am so sorry about everything, I don’t know why I said what I did, why I asked to be friends and nothing more. I’m a fool”

“You’re my fool” you laughed, “in fact were both fools, I don’t know why we kept this from each other for 21 years. “You laughed, before reaching forward and kissing him again.

It was so different from your years of practice kisses. They were deliberate and sweet. This was hot, passionate and desperate.

“Gods, I need you” he moaned into your mouth, as he backed you up onto a tree, his hands descending to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your bodies stating to slowly grind against one another as your tongues battled for dominance, his eventually winning, as he took you in for one last heated kiss before his lips began deciding down your neck.

“Please.” You begged, as you reached down to pull of his jersey, you wore nothing underneath, your bare breasts on show.

He moaned at the sight of them, before taking your nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking as he did. Low moans spilling out of you as he did.  You gripped his hair as he continued his ministrations, before pulling him of your breast and reaching up to undress him. Soon you were both bare, if anyone was to walk by, they would easily you, but neither of you seemed to care as Jace moved to kiss you again his hand reaching down to caress your wet cunt, shuddering as he penetrated your hole.

As he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, your moans swallowed by his mouth as you felt yourself tighten around his fingers your peak edging closer and closer, before he withdrew his fingers causing a moan of protest as his fingers left you.

“Keep going” you pleaded, but he simply shook his head, before going on his knees, your leg moving o his shoulder as he licked your cunt. He lapped you up like he was dying, and you were his final meal. Licking up all your juices before finally reaching your clit, his fingers hand made there way back to your cunt, as you felt his finger penetrate you once more as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

You moaned loudly as he did so, making no effort to hide your pleasure, as you gripped his hair and started to ride his face until you finally came.

he stood up slowly, before once again pulling you into heated kiss.

“You taste divine” he moaned into your mouth, before groaning as you reached for his cock. “jump” he groaned, and as you allowing him to thrust, into you in one slick movement as you wrapped your legs around his waist, causing you both to moan simultaneously, as your walls wrapped around his length tightly, he didn’t move for a moment, allowing you both to adjust before he started to pump his hips slowly into you, building up a rhyme.

“Gods you moaned,” gripping onto him tightly, as he started to pound into you, you both moaning as his pace picked up.

His face was buried in your neck, leaving kisses you where sure would leave a mark.

He continued to thrust his hips, pounding into you as your peaks grew closer and closer, his cock throbbing inside you as your cunt tightened around his length.

“I’m going to cum” he whined. “Fuck, where?” he asked, reaching down to rub your clit, prompting you closer and closer to Cumming with him.

“Inside…I’m on the pill” you said between moans and before you knew it you felt the warmness of him spreads inside you as you came yourself, gripping tightly on his arms as you did.

You took a moment, leaning against, him and him you.

“Why did we wait so long to do this again?” he asked catching his breath.

“Because you’re an idiot”.

He laughed, “and I will spend every day making it up to you I swear” he kissed you softly, as if sealing his promise in a kiss, a promise you knew he would keep “I should have known, you belong with me”.

taglist

@apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @RAYNETARGARYEN2 @cloboboo @now-i-have-a-new-obsession

to be added to taglist

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Hello love!! How are you doing? 💕

I LOVE your works so much!! You are so amazing and talented!! I wanted to thank you for writing the 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cursed technique Nanami fic, and especially not judging me for it 🫶🏽. I don’t know you but you seem like such a nice and cool person, with that being said… I was thinking about a fic I saw where Saturo Gojo got his wisdom teeth removed and he falls in love with you over again and I thought that would ADORABLE but with Kento 😭 (also I can’t remember who wrote the fic to give credit sorry) So like yeah Nanami would get his wisdom teeth removed and you’d take care of him and he would be such a charming man (he already is) but like just the most fluff thing he’d be like “you’re a very beautiful nurse” “I’m not a nurse but thank you” you feel me? Anyways that was it lol

Much love and take care!! 💗💗

(I don’t know what anon is 😅 is it like your followers cause I see request and people ask if they can be added as anon and I’m like so confused)

You’re my…. my wife?

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, established relationship, crack, fluff, suggestive at the end.

An: Hey Anon! Tysm for requesting again. I’m glad you liked the freaky energy fic!! Also, ofc I’ll never judge you for any fic idea (as long as it’s not like straight up deplorable with nasty kinks).

I hope it’s okay, but I changed this fic idea a little because I fear it was a bit too close to the original creator’s idea, and I don’t want to encroach on their idea. However, I hope the vibes are still there that you wanted!!

Your normally strong, doting, intelligent husband has been reduced to a confused mess. Lying in the bed in the sterile infirmary, Shoko carefully monitors his vitals while Satoru recites exactly how it all happened for the nth time.

Your loving, sweet, charming husband was hit with a very specific cursed technique while he was out on a mission with Gojo. Luckily, he was physically unharmed and mostly mentally unharmed as well… except the cursed technique is one that messes with the memory.

The curse didn’t just want to kill Nanami; it wanted to break him. The curse robbed Nanami of his memory of his most precious moments: the one’s that included you.

His hazel eyes scanned the room, wondering why everyone was making such a big fuss over him. He was fine - really.

You sat beside his hospital bed, wanting to hold his hand, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Shoko said that his mind may be a bit fragile after having such a crucial part of his memory tampered with.

When his hazel eyes met yours, Nanami stared at you for a moment before shifting in his bed slightly. He looked to be uncomfortable with your sheer presence, which only broke your heart more.

“Were you hit with the cursed technique too?” He finally speaks, looking over at you with a bit of a confused look. He was really trying to piece together why you were here with him.

“Oh, um… no..” You quietly respond with a forced smile. Your heart longed for your husband, and he was right here but he wasn’t your husband.

“Forgive me… Are you Shoko’s apprentice..?” He tries once again to remember. He’s seen your face before. Maybe in a different lifetime.

Satoru and Shoko are silent as they both witness what’s going on between you and Nanami. Holding their breaths, they’re hopeful that he’ll regain his memory at some point. The curse couldn’t just extract memories. As Shoko explained it, the curse probably just kept the memories hidden from Nanami. Your husband will probably slowly start to remember you over time.

“No… I’m not Shoko’s apprentice.” You politely answer again. As bittersweet as this is, it’s certainly a cute scene to see Kento trying to make conversation with you.

“Hm.” He hums to himself quietly before he gazes at you again. His hand combs through his hair, trying to fix it up from lying in the hospital bed, and Satoru quietly snickers.

“Trying to look good for her, Nanamin?” He teases lightheartedly, earning a death glare from your husband. You softly giggle too, realizing what’s going on. Your poor husband isn’t uncomfortable with your presence. He’s nervous.

“Don’t be crude, Satoru. There’s a lady in the room.” He huffs, shaking his head at Satoru’s audacity.

“Aww, thank you, Nanami.” Shoko grins, subtly playing along with Satoru’s tactic.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Nanami responds flatly before his eyes shift to you in another “secretive” glance, except everyone notices how he keeps looking at you. Your husband can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“I.. apologize for being a bit forward, but do you think we could…” His eyes flicker down to the wedding band that’s proudly sat upon your finger. His face subtly drops to a disappointed look. “Ah, I see. forget what I was saying.”

Shoko and Satoru are nearly losing it. The irony that Nanami is disappointed that he can’t ask you out because you’re married to him is hilarious. You give them a look, and they both quickly excuse themselves from the room, so they can go laugh together.

Once the two are finally out of the room, you smile softly before placing your hand over your husband’s, using your thumb to gently stroke the back of his hand. He looks at you with an unsure look, but he doesn’t remove his hand. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly.

“If you were my wife, I wouldn’t like you touching another man like that…” He mutters quietly, causing you to softly giggle.

“Well, it’s a good thing I am your wife.” You finally reveal to him, unable to keep the secret any longer.

Nanami’s eyes widen, and he looks at you with sparkling eyes but also utter confusion written all over his face. His heart is racing in his chest. The heart monitor starts to beep at a more pressured pace. The pretty woman that has been sitting next to him is his wife…?

“You’re my… my wife?” He asks quietly.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement before lacing your fingers with his. Your wedding band rubs against his. Both of the gems were cut from the same diamond. His eyes then focus on the joining of your hands, and he notices it too. “We’ve been married for a few years now.” You explain in a calm tone, trying to ease him into the idea of it all.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t-“ Nanami is rarely off kilter like this, but he’s just trying to wrap his head around it all. You’re his wife… You’re his wife. “I’m sorry- I just can’t seem to remember…”

“It’s okay, Ken. Take your time.” You encourage as you rub on his hand gently.

His eyes fall to his lap, and a small smile curls on his lips. He may not completely comprehend what’s going on, but he knows in his very soul that he’s the luckiest man alive because you’re his wife.

Watching Ken fall in love with you all over again and rediscover all his daily pleasures was a treat. He slowly regained his memory over time: prompted by his senses randomly picking up on familiar sighs, smells, or even tastes.

Ken didn’t only fall in love with you all over again. He fell in love with the life he cultivated with you again. He found himself laughing a bit harder. He squeezed you a bit tighter. He lounged in bed for an extra ten minutes in the morning time to bask in your presence.

Oh, and that’s not to mention the literal tears he cried the first time he felt your cherished cunt after the incident. The way you squeezed around him so intensely… the way it’s so fucking wet — greedily sucking him in… Goddamn, he’s so lucky to have you.