#and you decide to pick it up and do something new with it in two days two years later

[alfvaen]

"Lady Kistrelle?"

Ten years now and she still wasn't quite used to answering to that name. Nobody dared object to any delay in response, though, for fear of offending her. "Yes?" she said after a proper delay, looking up from the book in front of her.

Not one of the royals--she was long past the point of having to deal with one of their servants. Not a priest. She spotted the sword at his waist, and realized it must be the new guard lieutenant. Diffident and cautious in her presence, as only made sense given what had happened to his two predecessors.

"We picked up a woman last night. She wishes to speak to you."

Some criminal who wanted the enlist the help of the Royal Seer? Everybody believed she knew all and saw all, so either they were innocent or they were trying to call her bluff. But after all this time, she couldn't afford to let anyone know how much of a fake she actually was. Unfortunately, her reputation for omniscience also meant she couldn't ask a lot of questions. She'd have to lead him into volunteering information. "And you decided to come to me because…"

He shuffled his feet. "At first she was claiming to be you, so we brought her in for impersonation. Then she asked us to send you a message, just a name."

Her spine turned to ice. This was bad. "And that name was?"

"Flandine."

Brief surge of relief--it wasn't her own name, before she'd become Lady Kistrelle. But then she realized it was worse. She let out a sigh, as if put upon, and said, "Fine, I'll speak to her. Best to bring her here." Because this conversation was not one she'd want to be overheard.

She sat staring at the book for a long time after the lieutenant left. She hadn't meant it to go this far. She'd just been trying to save her life.

She'd thought she was done for when she'd been found rooting around in the abandoned house. Some mage or scholar or something had been living there, and she had just enough talent to make her way through their wards and traps to get at the goodies inside. So when a messenger came through the unguarded front door, she'd expected him to run for the guards. But apparently the old seer, Tarim, whose house it had been had had an apprentice, a blonde woman who went by Kistrelle, and she'd been seen rarely enough that nobody knew that it wasn't her. So she'd bluffed. And she'd been taken to talk to the King, and she'd kept bluffing. And between bluffing, manipulation, thorough perusal of the old seer's library, and sheer luck, she'd managed to convince everyone in the kingdom that she was actually the seer's rightful heir.

She'd never known what happened to the real Kistrelle, though. Though she had run across a note from Tarim, from when he'd taken her on, how he'd convinced her to change her name to "Kistrelle" in the first place. Because "Flandine" was a commoner's name, and not suitable at all.

And now Flandine was back. And clearly quite aware that the current Lady Kistrelle was at the very least an imposter, if not an outright charlatan (which she was, of course). There was every chance that if she told the guard captain (a witless fool, perfect for her needs, as opposed to the much more perspicacious lieutenants she'd had to get rid of) that Flandine was dangerous and should be killed right away, or locked up with her tongue cut out, then he'd do it.

But she wanted to know. Why had Flandine left, without telling anyone? What had happened to Tarim? Why was she back now? Surreptitious acquisition of knowledge had been a favourite pastime before she'd ended up in this charade, and it didn't hurt her reputation for omniscience either. Flandine was dangerous to her, but perhaps they could come to some sort of an accommodation. Perhaps she should take on an apprentice.

You are the most influential and powerful person in the kingdom. Even the royals walk eggshells around you at risk of offending you. The thing is, you have no idea what you’re doing or how it has gotten to this point, but you’re in way too deep now and you have to keep the lie going to survive.

[whiskeyandwant]

Shear Luck | joel miller x f!reader | {18+ minors DNI}

|part 1| The first cut is the deepest |2.5k words| |part 2| Joel Miller, single dad, came into your salon for a haircut, but he never expected to leave with a crush. Sarah's alive, tension's are high, the jokes are bad and the chemistry is crazy!

Fluff ?✔️ Slow burn? ✔️ Age gap? ✔️ Puns? ✔️

sprinkle in a little bit of smut 🔥 and dbf!joel energy and BOOM. You got this sweet-feel good fic.

“What’re we doin’?” You ask, making eye contact with him in the mirror. “Hopefully performin’ a miracle,” he replies in a tired Southern drawl.” |A/N| I was at work today blowdrying my clients hair and this storyline came to mind, I thought I'd end up just doing a one-shot but when I started writing I immediately fell in love with these two, so I decided it would span over a few shorter chapters. I hope any of you that stumble across this love them too.

Warnings: Mild language, flirting, fluff, puns, age gap (Joel's 38, reader's 23). eventual smut, daddy kink (if you squint) alcohol use.

It’s Saturday, your back is screaming, feet killing you from two kids haircuts after a marathon balayage, you’re hunched over like a gremlin, salon empty now. It’s just you, sweeping up glitter-dusted hair. You’re beat, the clock is mocking you, and you don’t remember the last time you ate, or if you ate today at all. You check the clock, 5:45 fifteen more minutes till close, “finally” you mumble to yourself. Your phone has 4 missed calls and 5 missed texts, half of them probably trying to get a last-minute appointment.

Who the fuck takes walk-ins on Saturday?

The door chimes open and you curse under your breath, turning to face the front desk; you throw on your best customer service face and stop dead—oh.

The fake customer service face drops and turns into something a hell of a lot more sincere when you see him.

The gentleman that just walked in is your type, tall, rugged as hell—medium-length wildly curling hair that’s got a few silver streaks right at the temples. His beard is patchy like he's been at it with dull scissors, and he’s got a flannel thrown on over a faded Pink Floyd tee paired with dark-wash jeans—covered in sawdust no doubt. He looks tired and devastatingly handsome, he's probably got a decade on you at least. You can smell the pine on him from the front door.

He walks in quietly towards the front desk, looking down at his shoes, hands in his pockets, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I need uh—you got time for one more cut?” His eyes lift from the floor to meet yours, big, round, and coffee brown.

“Only if you say please,” you give him a smirk, “and you gotta give me your phone number first.”

He freezes for a second, looking back at you and cocking his head to the side, eyebrow raised, half-confused, half-intrigued. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he gets a chance.

“Need to put you into the computer system,” you say with a wink clicking open a new client profile.

You watch as his face relaxes, shoulders drop, he breathes out half a chuckle before saying “It’s Joel, Joel Miller,” handing it off to you like you’ve won something.

He gives you his phone number and you type it into the system, setting him up a profile.

“Alright, big guy, looks like you’re officially my last victim of the week, come on in,” you smile and gesture towards the salon, walking behind your chair and patting the leather seat. “Okay, let's see what we’re working with then, sit”

His boots shuffle across the laminate and he sits down heavy into the chair, slouching down low, without you needing to ask him to.

Thank god, my shoulders are already screaming.

You pick up a comb and start raking through the mess on his head, coarse, wavy, dark hair speckled with, you guessed it. Sawdust.

“What’re we doin’? You ask, making eye contact with him in the mirror.

“Hopefully performin’ a miracle,” he replies in a tired Southern drawl.

You can see he’s exhausted, his voice is flat and rough.

“Sounds good to me, turnin’ water into wine costs extra though, that alright?” You try to crack his shell but he just stays silent.“Tough crowd, damn—okay—rough day cowboy?”

“Somethin’ like that, rough week,” he replies, looking at the mirror, avoiding your gaze.

You start trimming, keeping it longer, it looks good on him. “Well you’re in luck, I’m about to make it a lot worse! You get to end it with my bad jokes!” You grin, trying to get him to bite but he still doesn't, you’ll get him though.

“Why’d the client tip extra?” Silence. You snip louder, “The bangs were a real blast— get it?”

His lips twitch, just barely but you’ve almost got it so you barrel on. “how about: I told my last client he had a head like a bowling ball—smooth and full of holes… Yeah, he didn’t laugh either.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth—finally, a low rumble of a laugh breaks through, and you beam. “There it is! Thanks for humoring me. I like to think of this gig as more than haircuts—it’s dinner and a show, except there’s no dinner, no show, and most folks leave thinking, ‘What the fuck’s wrong with her?’ But they always come back.”

He chuckles again, deeper this time, shaking his head. “You should do comedy,” he says, voice gravelly, warming up.

“Yeah, you know I tried stand-up for a bit,” you say, grabbing the trimmers to get the few stray hairs on his collar. “Realized I’m more of a sit-down girl—better at bad puns than punchlines.” You place your hands on his shoulders and squeeze, “Wash time.”

“Nah, don’t need that, 'm fine” he protests.

“Not askin, Mr. Miller, I’m tellin. Come on let's go, move it.”

He gets out of the chair with a groan, and you walk him over to the shampoo sink, guiding his head down into the bowl, dragging your nails slightly up his neck as you do it. “Hairs like a sawdust magnet by the looks of it.” You turn the water on and let it trickle over his hair, grabbing some ‘manly’ shampoo, tea tree, and mint instead of flowers or grapefruit, or whatever other girly shampoo you’ve got on the back bar.

You massage slow circles into his head, lightly scratching your fingernails into his scalp, a soft grunt escaping despite himself. The radio’s blasting dad rock, Springsteen, maybe—and he mutters, “Good taste,” voice lazy now. Unsurprising, doesn't usually take long to make em’ end up like putty in your hands.

“Only the best for my VIPs,” you tease, massaging longer than necessary, watching his jaw slacken. He fuckin’ loves it, you can tell—but he’d never admit it. You rinse, towel him off, and bring him over to the chair again. “Gotta style it now,” you use a paste, sweeping it back and off to the side, sharp but not like a cop. “Beard next,” you say, grabbing clippers, and he stiffens.

“Ain’t gotta—” he starts but you’re already in his space, getting halfway between his legs for a closer look, combing it out. His breath hitches for a second, rough stubble under your fingers, your chest brushing against his shoulders. You feel him tense, anxious, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Relax, Joel, I’m a pro,” you murmur, trimming it neat, square along his jaw, full but tamed, “At least that’s what everyone keeps tellin’ me.” Up close he’s gorgeous, like he was carved out of stone, but still soft. Lines jagged, dark eyes—you step back, smirking.”Okay, done. You outta’ pay me double for making you look so good, wife’s gonna be one happy lady!”

He stands up, rubbing his jaw, checks over himself in the mirror and smiles, barely but he smiles. “No wife to impress, my kids gonna be happy though, she was gettin’ embarrassed to be seen with me.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Double huh?” he says, handing you two twenties instead of one, a real grin tugging at his lips now; showing off a dimple in his cheek. “Fair.” He lingers, eyes on you for a beat too long.

“See you next time, cowboy, nice meetin’ you,” you yell at him as he heads for the door, boots scuffing, leaving you buzzing.

Later when you’re at home you lay on the couch watching SNL with your dad, you pull out your phone to shoot off a text to your friend Kim.

(9:45PM)

You: Hot older dude, probably mid/late 30’s idk im guessing, came in today. quiet, sexy as hell, laughed at my stupid jokes.

(9:49PM)

Kim: ok!!!! 🤔🤔he tip big??

(9:49PM)

You: yup, im fucked! 😩

(9:50PM)

Kim: i mean… lets hope you are, eventually at least 😉

You smile down at your phone, replaying your interaction with Joel. He feels familiar, but you can’t place your finger on it so you shrug it off—probably just a regular type, lotta’ blue-collar guys in Austin.

//

Two Weeks Later

It’s Saturday again, your booking system’s got “Sarah M., trim + straighten” in midday. A 10-year-old bounces in, curly hair a mess, and trailing behind her is none other than Joel, hands in his damn pockets again.

“She wants it straight,” he says, low with a hint of flirtiness to it, winking when Sarah’s not looking. “I’d probably fuckin’ burn her tryin’.”

“Smart man,” you laugh, settling her into the chair. She’s chatty—her eyes shining as you flat-iron her hair, turning her curls into sleek waves instead.

“It’s like you’ve got magic in your hands!” she squeals, twirling it, and you laugh.

“You wanna be a hairdresser now, kid?” you ask, and she nods, beaming. Joel just watches, leaning against the counter, smirking.

Sarah groans, “Dad stop staring at her, you’re being weird,” but she giggles anyway.

You give Joel a wink and shake your head at him “dang, Joel, called out tryina’ flirt by your kid, you need to step up your game old man.”

When Sarah's hair is sufficiently straight, and the ends are trimmed neat she rushes out to the truck, making sure to swipe about 6 lollipops on her way past the front desk. Joel lingers again, voice dropping down low. “You do house calls, darlin’”

You grin, leaning close. “You wish cowboy. Gotta take me to dinner first at least.”

“That so?” he drawls, stepping nearer, invading your space, eyes glinting. “You’d wanna be seen in public with an old man like me?

“First of all, don’t even know how old you are, wouldn't exactly call you an old man. Secondly, try me.” you shoot back, and he chuckles.

“38, probably old enough to be your daddy.” he laughs, “and you?”

“Didn’t take you as the kinda guy to be into that,” you reply with a wink, leaning in just a bit closer.

Okay brave, we see you, girl, make him sweat!

You continue, “I’m 23, my dad’s still got a few years on you.”

You see watch him swallow and his eyes widen, jaw opens like he's about to say something but can’t.

He just bites his lip, like he doesn't want to regret what might come ou,t he gives you a nod and turns on his heels to the door. But before he leaves he stops for a second to look back and says “You don’t know much ‘bout me darlin’, not yet,” smiling again, he adds “I’ll think about that dinner,” and he’s gone.

//

Another week and Joe’s back again, showing up at the end of the day; just as you’re about to clock out. His hair is a little wild again, beard creeping back to chaos, clothes a mess—that rough handsomeness hitting you like a brick.

“I thought you’d be closed,” he says, rubbing his neck like hes almost embarrassed to be there. “Got a thing this weekend,” settling into your chair. “Make me extra pretty.” He jokes, actually jokes with you, how rare!

“I think most of us have ‘a thing’ this weekend, fourth of July n’ all,” you tease. “Hot date or what?” Sit down, handsome, ill make you into a real heartbreaker.

He grunts, settling in, body too big for the space, cape snapping as you drape it over him.

He snorts, eyes meeting yours in the mirror, dark and steady, maybe with a flicker of something in thiem. “No date, just a…thing. Don’t need Sarah to give me shit about lookin’ like a caveman.”

His tone is casual, but theres a dodge there, you let it slide, snipping away.

“Big, brooding, Joel Miller—so mysterious,” you say, hovering close, breath brushing his ear as you cut. “Thank god you’ve god me, huh?” you flash him a grin and he chuckles, warm, loosening up.

“Capes a little tight darlin’, you tryin to choke me?” he says, hooking a finger in the front of the cape. You undo the snaps and let out a low chuckle.

“Sorry honey, didn’t mean to, usually charge extra for that.” You say real low, giving him a wink.

“Ah, theres that comedian comin’ out again.” he says, voice dipping a bit, “Keepin’ me entertained.” His hand shifts under the cape, brushing your thigh—accidental, maybe? But he doesn't move it fast, and your heart jumps.

You tidy up the sides, cutting half an inch off the top.

“Okay let's go wash it, no fighting,” you say ripping the cape off. You bring him back to the sink and lean him back, scratching his nape with your fingernails a little rougher than last time, purposeful, just to see him shiver. You wash, fingers deep in his scalp, massaging watching his gruff expression melt away, noticing how the frown line between his brows softens.

He exhales a groan, and it makes you smirk, “Purrin’ again, huh? I got you hooked now.”

“Keep dreamin',’’ he mutters, weak—lazy, his hands unclench in his lap. You hum along to the radio, Led Zepplin, this time Ramble On low in the background.

You bring him back to the chair and style it, a little slicker this time, more pomade.

“There, now if you don't get too crazy tonight, this might stay lookin' good till tomorrow,” you say, “beard needs a bit of work still.” You clean up his neckline, and trim his mustache, leaning in extra close this time to get a good look—or maybe for him to get a good look—you wore a lowcut shirt today. You tilt his chin up and catch him swallowing—hard, adams apple bobbing, his dark eyes flicking up to you. You feel the heat of him under his stubble.

“Careful.” He warns, drawl low, but he doesn't pull away.

“Always am,” you murmur, cleaning up his neckline, and framing it up just right. You oggle again. He’s stupidly good looking, smile lines, plush lips, faint scars, coffee eyes—and you step back, smirking. “There, too pretty for your own damn good, owe me double again”

“You’re a magician,” he says, handing you forty bucks again with a flirty “worth it.’

“Damn straight,” you say, leaning against the counter, knee brushing his thigh, close, casual, but the air’s thick now. “So, this ‘thing’—gonna tell me, or keep me guessing?”

“You’ll figure it out, darlin’. You’re a smart girl,” his hand hovers near yours nearly touching it, then it drops. “See you around, be good.” and he leaves.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t sulk a little when he left, no mention of dinner, no ‘house call’ comment to be heard.

You’ll live, girl calm down.

You immediately text Kim again.

(7:03PM)

You: DILF strikes again, i need him biblically. 😩

You laugh at yourself as you flick off the open sign and head for the door, heart still racing from that damn smirk of his.

(7:07PM)

Kim: oh you’re down BAD bad huh? I need to see this guy 😂

You lock up, grinning like an idiot, wondering if Joel Miller’s worth all this trouble.

Spoiler: he probably is.

[dreamsteddie]

The Cost of Love

Written for the @stmarchmm day 14 prompt “second chance romance” | Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Rock Star Eddie Munson, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington, Cw: Buying Someone in the Name of Love, Not as Creepy as it Sounds - Also on Ao3

Bat divider -@popmilky

The thing about being an Omega that sucks is that you very rarely get to make decisions for yourself.

Somewhere along the line, society decided that Omegas were too weak, too reliant on their packs, to make their own future.

For a lot of things, it was up to the luck of the draw whether or not an Omega got to choose anything or themselves. If they were born into a kind, loving pack who cared about their well being, then chances were high they could live their life in relative peace. If they weren’t well, their only chance at freedom was to find a good Alpha and try to convince them to take you on. 

Otherwise, you would live the rest of your life under someone else’s thumb.

Steve had that, once. An Alpha who saw him, who never tried to stifle him, who held him close but never down. They had two wonderful years together. They’d met in Steve’s junior year, fresh off a rejection, all alone. Packless. Eddie had scooped him up, taken him under his wing, and they’d almost instantly fallen in love.

They were inseparable.

Until they weren’t.

Because no matter how dedicated, how in love they both were, Steve was still under the legal guardianship of his parents. He thought they were being sneaky. Thought by the time they found out, it would be too late. But someone caught them, saw them sitting just a little too close at the diner or sharing candy in the darkness of the movie theater and called his parents. That’s all it took.

One day, he was falling asleep in the arms of the Alpha he was planning to mate as soon as he was 18, the next he was being locked in his all but abandoned bedroom on his weekly trip to switch out his clothes. His parents wasted no time in shipping him off, finding a ‘suitable’ Alpha to set him straight and make him a good Omega.

It felt like he was being torn apart.

The only saving grace was that this Alpha had no interest in mating him, he was only interested in an attractive, young Omega to hang off his arm after his last mate passed. It made Steve sick just to think about it, the Omega that came before him, how easily she had been forgotten and replaced. It didn’t really matter, though. None of it mastered. At the end of the day, even if he wasn’t mated, he was legally bound to his position. His parents had sold his future away for their own gain. 

He wonders, every day, if Eddie thinks of him. He wonders if he knows what happened, or he’s out there thinking that Steve just up and left him. On his worst days, he wonders if Eddie found himself a new mate.

Those days, he doesn’t bother to get out of bed, and his Alpha knows better than to try by now.

This has been his life for six years, and these days, he can almost pretend he’s ok. One month in, his Alpha put him on rejection blockers, tired of his new toy constantly scenting like rotten, sad Omega. They helped, made the ever-present ache in his chest feel distant. Made him feel distant.

Today was another party. Some gala or fundraiser or whatever that required him to put on a dress and hold on to his Alpha’s arm. Steve hated them, hated that Eddie wasn’t the one he was holding on to, that he wasn’t the first one to pick out a pretty dress for him to wear, but by now he was used to it.

All the signs and gift bags told him today was a music charity event. Something for underprivileged children who deserved a creative outlet. The thought of it made his chest squeeze painfully, even through the blockers. It was exactly the kind of thing Eddie would have loved.

He’s thinking so hard about him that for a moment, he thinks he sees him out there in the crowd of actual VIPs. He catches sight of dark curly hair and a lanky frame and he feels his heart leap, but he quickly shoves it down. There’s no way Eddie would be here at an event like this. He turns away, tuning in to the conversation his Alpha is having with another benefactor. 

They're getting ready to move into the dining room when things change. All these events are the same. Drop off your coat, mingle in the foyer, eat an overpriced meal, listen to a speech, applaud for the entertainment, mingle again, go home, and rest your aching feet.

But this time is different, because one moment he’s getting ready to finally sit down and give his feet a rest from these heels, and the next there’s a gentle hand around his wrist.

And a voice he’d know anywhere.

“Steve?”

And a face he could never forget how to love.

“Eddie?”

He can feel his Alpha tighten his hold on him, trying to pull him into the next room. Steve doesn’t care, he digs his heels in and makes him stop. He’s not leaving Eddie behind. Not now, not again. He can see the other Alpha, his real Alpha, look him up and down. Steve wonders if he looks different, he tries not to look in the mirror too long these days.

“Can I help you, sir?” His Alpha asks, posturing like he’d have any chance if Eddie decided to challenge him. At 53, his Alpha is getting a little pudgy in the middle and, more importantly, has given up on the gym in the last two years. Eddie looks mad enough to take on a bear. His eyes don’t leave Steve, but he can feel his hand tighten where he hasn’t let go of Steve’s wrist.

Eddie doesn’t respond, just keeps staring at Steve, the scent of pissed off Alpha starting to fill the space around them. It should probably make Steve cower, but it just makes him feel safe. Complete in a way he hasn’t been in six years. Eddie’s gaze travels, taking in his face before trailing down and getting stuck on his untouched mating gland. Steve watches as the Alpha’s nostrils flare wide, finally turning to Steve’s Alpha, lifting up to his full height to posture back. People are probably watching them, but Steve doesn’t care.

“How much?” Eddie asks, which, what?

“Excuse me?” His Alpha asks, clearly confused.

“How much, to buy your marriage contract?” Eddie says, clearly losing patience. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, not even the blockers could stop the feeling of molten hope rising in his chest. He wants to say something, to beg his Alpha to let him go, but he holds his breath instead. Doesn’t want to risk drawing too much attention to himself.

Steve’s Alpha laughs, that stupid rich-person laugh that always makes the Omega grind his teeth. “I really don’t think that’s appropriate, son. And anyway, I wouldn’t let this one go for anything less than a million, which I highly doubt is within your price range.” He gives Steve a tug as he says this, drawing him in and lifting a hand to his face to stroke his cheek. It’s a move that Steve hasn’t flinched at in years, but with Eddie watching, he can’t help but tilt his head away in shame. “Such a pretty face shouldn’t be wasted,” his Alpha finishes.

Eddie’s hand is gripping him hard enough to bruise. Steve kind of hopes it does. His Alpha was right; the Eddie Steve knew could never afford that price, and even if he could, Eddie had always been surprisingly frugal. He wouldn’t waste it all to buy an Omega he hasn’t seen since they were teens.

“One and a half million.”

“What?” This time, it’s Steve who speaks. And oh, there’s that look. That look Eddie used to give him every morning, every time they kissed goodnight, every time they scented. Eddie still loves him, even after all this time. He still wants Steve.

“Now young man, I really don’t think you should make jokes like that. You clearly don’t belong here,” his Alpha says, referring to Eddie’s dirty docs and ripped jeans. He probably thinks he’s one of those underprivileged youths.

Eddie drags his eyes away again, baring his fangs mean and smug. “You really don’t give a shit about who you donate to, do ya buddy?” He says, leaning in to leverage his superior height. “This is my god damn charity dip shit. Lead singer and founding member of Corroded Coffin, at your service.”

Oh. Steve thinks. Of course.

Because Steve had always known, even if he could never really say he understood it, that Eddie was talented. Extremely talented. Of course he’d gone out and made a name for himself. He’s probably been out there gaining fans and winning awards while Steve lived under his rock, kept away from the real world. Shielding himself from the light of day.

He couldn’t be prouder.

Something must bloom in his scent because Eddie is turning that look back at him with that look again. “I can cut you the check right here, right now. I’ll walk you to the bank right now if that’s what you want, but I’m not leaving here without Steve.” It’s the assurness in his voice, the finality to his declaration that wakes Steve up fully.

He’s allowed himself to become a passenger in his own life, floating between the days when he could have been running. Maybe trying to escape, even if the law was against him. Meanwhile, Eddie has been out there, presumably, loving him through the last six, miserable years.

He can’t let this opportunity pass him by. He won’t.

People are definitely staring now, stopping to stare at the person they’re all here to support making a scene, but Steve doesn’t let that scare him. He rips his arm out of his Alpha’s grip, turning his back to Eddie, taking solace in the warmth of his shadow, letting it fuel him. “You can keep my dowry,” he says, facing his Alpha. This small man who owns him. Steve used to think of himself as strong, large for an Omega and defiant to society's expectations for him to be dainty and sweet and empty. “I’ll sign it over to you, but I’m going with Eddie.” He can feel Eddie’s hand on his upper arm, letting him know he’s there with him.

His Alpha, his hopefully soon to be former Alpha, is giving him an appraising look. Not the one he gave him that day he picked him up from his childhood home, like he was a lamb ripe for the slaughter. This look is like the ones he’s seen on the days his Alpha brought him into the office to show him off, like he's weighing the pros and cons of a major deal. It means he’s taking them seriously. “One and a half? Plus the full dowry? Are you willing to put that in writing?”

Steve can feel Eddie’s heart beating where he’s pressed himself flush with Steve’s back, his scent blooming sugary spice with his excitement. Eddie catches him waving his arm behind him, making some kind of gesture to someone in the crowd. “I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers right now.” A pretty blond draws up to Eddie’s side and if it wasn’t for the way Eddie has wrapped his arms around his waist, Steve might feel worried about him whispering in her ear.

There’s a serious look on her face, which is quickly overtaken by wide eyes and a sharp gasp, her eyes turning toward the Omega. “Steve? Your Omega?” And oh, that makes Steve want to purr, the fact that this lady has heard of him. The idea that Eddie has been talking about him all these years.

Her face firms, her position as a high-profile lawyer evident in her stance. “Sir, if you’ll follow me, I can get those papers drafted right away. Would you prefer a check or a direct wire transfer?” Her smile is sweet but leaves no room for argument. This is really happening

Holly shit this is happening.

Not in his wildest dreams did Steve ever think he would be free. He’d resigned himself to keeping his memories of life with Eddie at the forefront of his brain and staying on the rejection blockers for the rest of his life.

Now, it’s looking like he won’t have to content himself with memories anymore. Maybe he can have the real thing. He’s almost afraid to breathe, afraid to turn around, like the whole thing will be an elaborate dream. Like any pressure from his expanding chest will make the arms around his waist turn into a fine vapor.

“Hey, let’s get you out of here, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers in his ear, picking up on his distress.

Steve should probably say no. Should probably let Eddie go in there and be a part of his own charity event and get a grip. Maybe step out for some fresh air. But he doesn't. He lets himself turn to face his Alpha, his real Alpha, his only Alpha, and take a breath.

“Take me home Alpha. We have a lot to catch up on.”

[323cutie]

i have to bother someone about this cause what is his problem; new wy courreges footage. cum gutters dot com -🫧

cum gutters dot com is SENDING MEEEEEE. this ones for u nonnie (and also for me). also i was listening to sleep token while writing this so do with that info what you will

cw ୨୧ making out (kind of), insinuated sexting, wooyo being a little shit as always, ab riding<3, dirty talk (like filth nasty almost), teasing, finger sucking, breeding kink but like BARELY, mention of penetrative sex but it doesn't actually happen

18+ mdni!!

Your brain clocks back in just enough to fully grasp Wooyoung's words.

His hands stall, but don't stop, their caressing of your body, curious eyes watching your face as you comprehend. You swallow and he grins, hands running up your back to push you closer to him. You shift and grind over his lap and both of you sigh at the friction.

Knowing full well what he said, you ask, "what?"

Wooyoung hums, nosing at the junction of your shoulder and your neck before licking a small stripe along your artery. "Talkin' so much about how hot I was," he starts, voice fake-sweet in your favorite way. "I remember your texts, too, baby. Ride my abs."

Your body involuntarily shivers and he laughs, pleased with how easy it is for him to get under your skin. He's right, unfortunately -- every night he was away for Paris fashion week was filled with miserable, horny text messages from you about how sexy he looked, how pretty his skin was, how mad you were that he didn't give you any warning about his outfits. And since he came over it's all you've been able to think about, all you've been able to say... in no time at all you're adjusting your position on the couch and pushing him to lay down on his back.

"You're so annoying," you say, pushing your panties down and refusing to look at the wet spot on the center lest Wooyoung decides to tease you about that, too. Your hands pull his shirt up just enough so that you have room to move and you sigh through your next works. "Total freak."

He hums, patient, letting you feel him up. "It's my job as your boyfriend," he answers cheekily, leaning forward to grab at your ass and pull you up. "Can practically smell how much you want it, baby, come on."

Your face and ears burn but you let him guide you forward until you're sitting on his torso, pussy nudged perfectly between the ridges of his abs. If you wanted to be romantic about it you could, something about how every part of you fits together with him, but you move your hips forward and the pressure and pattern is so good you think your brain starts melting.

"That's it," Wooyoung encourages once you pick up a rhythm, jaw dropped to his chest as he watches you move. "Fuck, sweetheart, look at you. So wet... pretty pussy loves this, huh? Feels good?"

You moan and he mirrors it, but he grabs your face to meet your eyes. "I asked a question, baby. Feelin' good?"

You're nodding before you even realize it, frantic, already panting. Wooyoung grins, tenses his abs, watches your pace falter because it's just too good. "Didn't know you were so easy," he says, hand resting on your hip. You feel crazy, the pleasure blurring the edges of your sight while Wooyoung's words go straight to your core. "Missed me that bad? You're fucking drooling... can't wait to fuck you, haven't been in this pussy for so long, gonna fill you up just right --"

You cut him off by shoving two fingers in his mouth, hooking them over his tongue so he stops talking. He whines and in turn you grind a little faster. "S...Shut up," you mumble out. Your apartment is filled with pants and whimpers and the sounds of you dripping all over his abs, and even now you feel insatiable. The promise of Wooyoung fucking you presses deliciously against your ass when you move back far enough.

"Gonna come first," you breathe out, meeting Wooyoung's eyes. They're glassy and dark, and you feel him bite down on your fingers hard enough to ache. "G-Gonna come, then you can fill me up."

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

i can fix him - spencer reid x fem!reader

reader makes it her entire life's purpose to restore the spark she's sure spencer reid used to have before prison turned him gray but it doesn't quite work out...

genre: angst with some smut wc: 1.3k warnings: post prison but no spoilers, grumpy x sunshine, sunshine!reader, age gap (reader is 25), lowkey enemies to lovers, spence chokes an unsub, sex used as manipulation, unprotected sex, teasing a/n: anon request!!! based on i can fix him (no really i can)

“He hasn’t been the same since he got out.”

The words rang delicately in the back of your busy brain like a constant dial tone. A conversation with Penelope brought forth a realization in you.

When you joined the BAU, replacing the youngest member with your fresh face and a childish desire to make the world a better place, you thought of Spencer Reid as untouchable. He was rational, scientific, gathering all of his beliefs from the articles he cherished. He was right, always. Every last syllable that left his chapped but plush lips was guaranteed to be the uttermost truth. Cited, sourced, and verified.

At first, it was irritating and unbearable. You couldn’t say one word without an infuriating, “actually,” following.

The fact that he practically ignored your existence didn’t help.

It wasn’t until an enlightening comment that your view changed.

“A day in a prison, how fun,” you had said.

Garcia, ever the one to gossip, had replied with, “yeah, poor Reid, I wonder if he’s going today.”

“Well, why wouldn’t he be?”

“You don’t know. Oh, you don’t know!”

Her eyebrows raised as her mouth gaped. But then she looked away, as if telling herself to keep quiet. “He should really be the one to tell you. Or Emily! Even–uh–okay, okay, I'll tell you!”

And so you sat, wide-eyed and shocked at the things she described so easily. All of it was bad. She had mentioned his mom and drugs which honestly left you confused.

Every time you looked at him, you saw the shadow of a man he has every right to be. You saw a heart that could grow three sizes if given reason.

You knew he wasn’t always this way. You could see it every time his eyes lit up when he was about to lay some new information on the team. Right before he was shut down.

Because nobody really cared about the guy who only has seventy-two items to his name (including his underwear).

You saw the way he looked at you.

With a longing–a pondering that you found yourself wanting to know its meaning.

The rest of the team communicated their impression with how wise you were despite your amount of acquired wax candles.

He never blinked.

You figured it had to do with his already large amount of knowledge. But it felt like more. Every time you contributed to a case with a smile that proved your pride, he stared at your profile almost like he could picture the day you would dwindle. And he never once allowed an UnSub to come near you.

It was like he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to protect your innocence or ruin it altogether.

Something that used to infuriate you now seemed so… insignificant.

It was wrong, you knew, to be feeling so sad for a grown man, but it came on its own. His random facts now intrigued you.

You were sure he picked up on the change in your demeanor. Because he changed too.

When you laughed at an unfunny joke, his lips would curl into this nervous but confused half-frown-half-smile that you were now determined to make last.

And so, with the knowledge that your very own laughter cracked his tough armor, you decided to take it further. You wanted him to be who he was before all the hurt. You knew you could bring back his spark if you tried hard enough.

An optimist at heart you were.

It started how it was destined to–with a convincing kiss.

Strategically, you asked for help with organizing your bookshelf. A few lingering glances and he was right where you wanted him.

Your lips met and you knew your plan would work.

Spencer was touch starved. The second you straddled him, he was yours.

All of him crumbled the first night he spent in your bed.

And then he never left your side.

Like a puppy, he followed you around and did everything you said.

It started with small things. You asked him to smile more, say “good morning” to Anderson, and remember that bad people will still be bad even if he stays the night at the BAU.

It worked too.

He was happier. He made jokes, he laughed, he did physics magic.

You trained him almost like a dog, praising him after every time he did something nice for someone else. Because–according to Garcia–he came to work and went home unlike how he used to be.

Since you, a younger, outgoing adult, forced yourself on him, he came out a bit.

O’Keefe’s was now familiar with him. Thanks to you, that is.

And, of course, an older man, you didn’t mind. Spencer was older, experienced. He made you feel grown. And you could fix him. You turned a cold, antisocial man into a silly, awkward man again.

But there were still setbacks.

For one, he allowed his anger to come through when he thought you were in danger.

There was a day where an UnSub was taking young girls who reminded him of his ex. You just so happened to resemble that ex perfectly.

When you cleared the bathroom, you forgot to check behind the shower curtain. A mistake you were sure had been made before quickly put you in the way of Spencer. His hand had wrapped around the guy’s throat so hard you thought he might actually kill him. Apprehending him against the hard tile wall, his eyes met yours in a silent scolding.

The EMT’s fingers brushed the wound on your forehead as she bandaged the cut. Spencer’s converse came into view but you didn’t look up.

Not until he spoke.

“Are you… okay?”

Two pairs of glass eyes met and you watched as his struggled not to dwell on the bandaid. “I’m fine,” you said.

But you resented how he couldn’t be the version of himself the world deserved.

For months, he’d been perfect, how come he couldn’t stay that way?

Your twenty-five-year-old brain wasn’t enough to fix the much older man in front of you. You thought that if he smelled enough strawberry lip gloss he’d change and become a boyfriend. Yet that change never happened. He didn’t seem as grumpy or isolated, sure, but it wasn’t enough for you.

You strived to fix him.

You remembered the first time you slept together.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, rolling his eyes.

You simply hummed, pressing another kiss to his jaw. “I was thinking… maybe… we could have some alone time? Just the two of us. Before O’Keefe’s?”

“I already told you I’m not going to the bar.”

“Maybe you’ll change your mind? Be nice to a few people? I’ll make it worth your while…”

Another sloppy kiss to his neck.

“How about that?” you inquired softly.

No answer came, only a harsh kiss. His tongue parted your lips and his hands slid under your skirt. In a second, your panties were pushed over. His belt went to the floor.

You wasted absolutely no time in running yourself over him and sinking down immediately onto his length.

Spencer’s mouth dropped as he grabbed your ass. It burned every time he slammed into your cervix but you took it, because the look on his face was everything. Groans left him every time your hips met.

A quick, frenzied pace was set. It was pathetic how fast he unravelled.

Furrowed brows and a scrunched nose gave away how long he was going to last.

“Already close?” you teased.

“God–”

And he was coming inside you, messing your skirt effectively. But you couldn’t resist.

You felt him throb as your hips rose and fell slower. “Stop it,” he croaked.

Graciously, you nodded, pressing a sticky kiss to his lips. Your head found a resting place on his shoulder.

“O’Keefe’s?” you suggested after a few beats.

Of course, he agreed.

Because who was he to disagree with you?

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

Hiiiii so I was mayhaps wondering if I could get a Sanji x reader, (fem mayhaps) and when Sanji flirts reader flirts back just as much and they fluster poor Sanji :3

FLIRTING COMPETITION - Sanji x Fem!Reader

Hiiiii!! Omg I loved this request, I tried my best to write a cute little blurb. I hope it’s satisfactory! This is actually the first request I’ve ever gotten and I’m not gonna lie I giggled like an idiot hehe.

CW: SFW, Blood mention (nose bleed), anime Sanji antics, flirty remarks but nothing past pg

~1.3k

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A new woman on board the Sunny is cause for celebration for no less than five of the Straw Hats. Nami and Robin were elated that there's finally someone else to connect with, to break up the monotony of the otherwise male-dominated crew. Not that they minded, but eventually you can only take so much locker room smell and fart jokes. Chopper was also excited, having another person to dote on him (not that some of the men aboard didn’t also do it in their own ways.) Luffy was excited, but of course it had nothing to do with you being a woman and everything to do with having another member of the crew who he invariably adored. Another crewmate, another nakama.

Nobody is more excited than Sanji, though.

At first, it's a little weird. You notice how Sanji dotes on and tends to the women in the crew. Extra treats, googly eyes, nose bleeds. He'd roll out the red carpet if he had one, release confetti if there were any aboard. The little comments didn't really get to you, and it seemed that Nami and Robin are already used to them. So, the flirtatious remarks from Sanji weren't really given any weight, and certainly not any attention. At least, not at first.

It started small. Well, from you at least - for Sanji’s part, the flirting was as obnoxious as ever. You’d offer him a warm smile here, a chaste laugh there. Anything to show your gratitude for the extra attention, though the flirting was certainly becoming an issue. You couldn’t quite decide what was bothering you about it so much. Maybe it was the fact that it was relentless and constant. There wasn't a single meal that went by without it, and it'd be an off day if Sanji didn't openly ogle and flirt. Or that it didn’t actually bother you at all - rather, it bothered you that it was indiscriminate, not just meant for you. It was shared among all three of you women aboard. Yes, maybe that was the issue. The comments have been wearing you down, and something deep inside was feeling something that maybe wasn’t very smart to be feeling, especially when dealing with an insatiable casanova like Sanji. Though, could he really be called that? You’re certain the boy reeked of virginity.

So, Sanji is a flirt. That much is obvious. And there were plenty of times where it left you flustered or flushed or even unsure of what to say. Well, two can play at that game.

As the sun shines over the table where you’re sat on the deck, with the smell of lunch wafting heavily in the air, you’re suddenly consumed with the idea of getting him back today.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Here you go, gorgeous! A special pâté served on seaweed with garlic, all plated with care for a beautiful lady such as yourself.”

You pick up your fork, finding the attention to detail he gives just a little funny. It's cute, anyway. You scoop a piece of the pâté from the seaweed, just to taste - the savory flavor is obvious, with some kind of roasted quality that forces a hum from your throat. You grin up at Sanji, your eyes flickering over his face with great interest.

“My compliments to the chef.” You respond, your tone a touch playful.

Sanji beams, and you swear you hear him giggle? For a man so confident in his craft, he can be a real dork when receiving compliments from women. This is going to be fun.

“Aw, I'm so glad you like it! There's plenty more where that came from for someone as beautiful and sweet as you! Oh - did you do something with your hair? The sunlight is catching it just right today, and-”

He's babbling, and definitely going overboard on the doting.

“Oh, brother…” Nami mumbles from her seat next to you, and you can hear Zoro scoffing from the railing nearby where he’s supposed to be taking a nap.

Everyone is just a little too aware of Sanji's actions, and even Robin suppresses a small chuckle. You shrug it off, though, giving Sanji a warm smile.

“We're very lucky to have you aboard as chef, huh? It's always dinner and a show.” You laugh, leaning your chin on your palm as you observe him. “With a great view, too. You ever think about getting into performing?”

Sanji stiffens, a hand moving to the back of his neck as the tips of his ears turn red. You can tell by his expression that he’s clearly caught off-guard, and probably just thinking you’re being extra friendly. It’s still clear the effects your comments are having on him.

“Well, of course not. I'm just a cook.” He laughs awkwardly, his tone still overly excited as he avoids your eyes. “Why d'ya ask, princess?”

You stifle a giggle at the way he seems to get a little less confident.

“Oh, nothing. I'd just pay to see someone as handsome as you every night.” You reply simply, your smile widening into a grin.

“Seriously?” Nami mumbles from across the table, but you ignore it. Her annoyance at the scene isn't your problem.

Sanji doesn't grin, though. He freezes worse than before. You can see his curly brow twitching, and his mouth opens to speak. Nothing comes out, though, so it promptly shuts. The blush on his ears has slowly spread across his cheeks, and it brings out the color of his eyes in a way you haven’t noticed before.

You can't stifle the giggle this time. It rolls out, and Sanji clears his throat in an attempt to recover his demeanor. Even the giggle seems to have made his heart leap.

“W-Well, thank you, I'll-”

“And your hair looks better than mine today. Honestly, I'd love to run my fingers through it. You don't mind, do you?”

You reach a hand out to Sanji's sleeve, tugging on it gently to pull him closer. He doesn't move. Instead, he pulls his arm away, bringing it towards his face, which he turns the other direction. He’s covering the lower part of his face with his sleeve. What the hell? There were a lot of reactions you were expecting from Sanji, but that was not one of them.

”What’s wrong, Prince Chef? Can’t take what you dish out?” You tease.

”E-Excuse me!”

You watch Sanji stalk off, and you notice when he brings down his sleeve from his face that the once pristine-white fold over his coat is now red with what appears to be blood stains. Ah, so that’s what it was. You giggle to yourself, picking up your fork again and scooping some of the pâté. Damn, it really is good.

”Wow. I’ve never seen Sanji freeze up like that.” Nami says, and you can’t help but laugh a little louder.

“Just giving him a taste of his own medicine. Or, a taste of his own pâté.” You reply with a proud grin, leaning back in your seat. You take a bite, and the sound of Robin’s soft chuckle from across the table grabs your attention.

”You’d better be careful,” Robin chimes in, a soft smile on her lips. “You’re going to break his heart if you keep flirting with him like that.”

”Yeah, let her. Serves the idiot cook right for chasing everything in a skirt.” Zoro adds, not bothering to open his eye.

“Oh, come on. He can handle a little flirting. He’ll be alright.” You giggle, taking a bite from your fork.

Though the taste reminds you of Sanji, and how cute his blush was when you complimented his cooking. It was even cuter when you complimented his appearance. Just the thought of getting to see that look again stirs something in your chest that’s hard to pinpoint, but it grows as you fork another bite. Maybe, just maybe, the condition of Sanji’s heart in relation to you is something you’ll need to keep in mind.

[littlefanficprincess]

Stop the wedding!

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

D-16 x Fem cybertronian reader

Word count: 5.3k

Song: This Day Aria (Cover by jSyndeo Music)

Synopsis: You're a simple miner bot forced to get married to the Sentinel Prime, so D-16 decides to crash the wedding and get his girl.

(A/n): It is a cheesy premise, which makes it good (holy moly this became way longer than I expected.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

 “All right, all clear” D-16 mentions. He stands in the metro, leaning against the cart full of drills and other metal objects.

Orion pops out of the cart, catching the drill he almost knocked out of the cart. “Okay, D-16, I may be a little rusty, but “corroded”? That is too far” He says, referring to what his friend called him when talking to the two guards that were chasing the blue bot.

“Let me guess. Chased out of the archives?” D-16 questions, brushing off Orion’s response. He was already all too familiar with Orion’s routine of breaking the rules.

“Yeah. I had to jump out of a window this time. Almost died” Orion laughs, climbing out of the cart. “It was wild”

“And digging through ancient data is worth dying for?”

“Yes, it is”

“I need a new best friend” D-16 rolls his eyes, unamused.

Orion tells how he wanted to help Sentinel Prime find the Matrix of Leadership, his realist friend proceeded to call him delusional. The conversation switches over their lack of cogs.

“Hey, if we did have cogs…” Orion trails off.

“I’d transform into a shovel and beat you” D-16 jokes, answering quite quickly.

“That’s one way to talk to your friend” A sweet voice chimes from behind Orion. The two mechs turn to see who it was. Standing there was (Y/n), a smile on her face. “Hi guys!”

D-16 tenses up as his vents pick up speed. “Oh (Y/n), didn’t notice you there” He says, awkwardly. It was a sudden change from the cocky demeanor he had a second ago.

“Yeah, I know I’m not very eye-catching” The (f/c) femme bot chuckles, placing a servo on the back of her helm.

In his mind, D-16 argued that she was anything but that. Probably the most beautiful miner, the prettiest cybertronian in Iacon. A diamond in the rough, as they say.

Trailing her (e/c) optics trial down, noticing something shiny in Orion’s servo. She leans slightly down, eyeing the unknown object. “What do you have there?” She questions, raising an optical ridge.

Orion raises his hand, showing what it was. A shiny decal of Megatronus’ face. “Just a mint-condition Megatronus Prime decal, first edition. But he probably doesn't want it, so if you want it…” He holds it out for her to grab.

“Wait, hold on. Let me see” D-16 slightly panics, while also feeling excited. He reaches for the decal, but Orion pulls his arm back out of reach.

“Wait. Don’t grab. You’re gonna crease it” Orion grins. He places it carefully onto the other miner’s shoulder plate, smoothing it out.

D-16 looks at it with amazement, tracing over it with his middle and index digit. “You know, Sentinel says Megatronus was the…”

“The strongest Prime to ever live” (Y/n) and Orion say in unison, knowing the saying like the back of their servo’s. The two share a chuckle at how they knew him so well.

“It fits you” (Y/n) compliments, looking at the decal before turning her gaze up to his face. It makes D-16 feel flustered, he slightly turns away. He mutters a “Thank you”, just loud enough to be heard.

Turning to the smaller bot, Orion asks her “What have you been up to, I haven’t seen you for a good bit”.

“Sorry about that” (Y/n) apologizes, grinning sheepishly. “I was getting my metal clean, it was covered in dust. Then I ran right into Spark Hope and everything went downhill from there” She explains, remembering all the chaos.

The metro comes to a stop, its doors opening. D-16 pushes the cart out, placing it next to other carts filled with equipment. The three friends were following behind the other miners, when they were stopped by a guard.

Their first assumption was that he was there for Orion, the mentioned bot getting nervous. But to their surprise, he turns to the (f/c) femme next to him. “(Y/n)?” He calls out, making sure he has the right cybertronian.

Confused, (Y/n) answered with “Yeah? That’s me”. She wondered what he could want, hoping it was not related to her crash she had not too long ago.

“Sentinel Prime has requested your presence, I am here to escort you” The guard tells her, with a straight posture.

Looking back at her friends, who looked just as surprised of her, (Y/n) shrugs her shoulders. “I guess I'll see you guys later” She says, before following the guard to Sentinel’s palace.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) could only stare anxiously at the ground as she walks behind the guard, fiddling with her own digits. THE Sentinel Prime knew she existed and wanted to see her, for who knows what. The guard leads her inside the palace, its walls were made of gold and bronze, matching that of Sentinel’s armor. She felt so small compared to it all, so insignificant. 

She didn’t even notice the guard stopped walking, making her bump into his back. He steps back, spewing out a quick apology. He seems to ignore it and knocks on the big doors in front of him, he clears his throat. “My prime, I have brought the bot you’ve requested for” He announces.

There was a pause, before they heard an answer. “Great, let her in,” Sentinel’s voice chimes from the other side of the door.

The guard nods and opens the doors, motioning for her to enter. Hesitantly, (Y/n) walks in, she flinches as the door is slammed close. She looks up, finding Sentinel looking towards the window with his hands behind his back.

The Prime turns around with a big smile, towering over the poor femme. “Ah, the cybertronian I was looking for. I’m happy I was able to catch you, you’re running all over the place” He chuckles, using some interesting words.

Bowing down, (Y/n) lowers her head. “It’s an honor, My Prime. It truly is” She claims, preferring to not look her in the eye.

“No need to get formal, (Y/n)” Sentinel says, gesturing to her to stand up. She does so, shivering slightly at hearing him say her name. “I called you here for one simple thing” He mentions, a mischievous glint in his bright blue optics.

“What is that, Sentinel Prime?” The (f/c) being slightly tilts her head, the taller bot finding the action charming. 

“I want you to be my Conjunx Endura”

His statement makes (Y/n) halt, staring at him with wide optics. “I beg your pardon?” She coughs, making sure she didn’t hear him wrong.

“Even after fifty cycles of ruling Iacon, no femme or mech ever caught my eye. Then I saw you, bumping right into Spark Hope. You are the most beautiful bot I’ve ever seen” Sentinel kneels down, grabbing her chin. “And so, I want to marry you”

So many things were going through (Y/n)’s head. Not only did he notice her, he found her pretty and he was asking her to marry him. It all happened too fast for her to process, she had to think of her next words.

She had no idea that the proposal was shallow, not a trace of love in Sentinel’s motives. He did find her beautiful, there is no denying it. What was better to improve his image than having a Conjunx Endura, the story of that he fell in love with a miner. That he didn't care about her status, only her personality and beauty. Lies, all lies.

It was a huge honor to be asked by a prime to marry them. But yet, (Y/n) can’t help but feel empty. It was like something was holding her back, then her mind flickered to Orion and D-16. She wanted to say no, but she thinks of what would happen if she did.

“I would love to” (Y/n) answers, forcing a smile. She looks up at his menacingly stature. She hoped that he didn't notice her lying through her teeth.

“Great!” Sentinel exclaims, grinning. He didn't notice. Or he did, but didn't seem to care.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

No one saw her that day after that, it was noticed by many. Elita interrogated the idiotic duo, suspecting one of them had to do something with it. But she backed off once they told her a guard took her away for something.

Then cave in happens with Jazz almost getting crushed if it wasn't for Orion and D-16. The reckless action had gotten Elita-1 demoted by Darkwing, the mech brushing her arguments off as she lacked a cog unlike him.

The next day, Orion dragged his friend to the stadium where the Iacon 5000 was held. But instead of going into the main entrance, the blue miner drags the other through a side door. D-16 finds himself and Orion behind orange glass with a clear view of everything that was happening.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The icon of Iacon! The savior of Cybertron! Quintessons fear him, but we love him! Our leader, the one and only… Sentinel Prime!” The announcer proclaims, hyping up the audience.

Flying down and across the crowd was their remaining prime. He almost looked like an angel soaring across the sky. Bots scream his name as he passes by. He lands on a floating platform in the middle of an arena. 

“Yes! It feels so good to be here with you all today. My friends. My Cybertronian family. It has been precisely 50 cycles since the Quintessons attacked our home. Fifty cycles since we lost the Matrix of Leadership and our Energon supply dried up. Fifty cycles since the battle that killed the other Primes, my brothers and sisters in arms” He tells the crowd, placing his servo on his chassis.

Behind the racers down below appear holograms of the thirteen fallen primes. “Today we honor the Primes who gave their lives for ours and we show them that the strength of Cybertron will never be diminished” His bright blue optics scan the crowd, stopping at the femme he was looking for. 

“Before we start the race, I have one more thing to announce. Not too long ago, I met the most loveliest bot I’ve ever seen. I want you all to meet (Y/n), my soon to be Conjunx Endura” He reaches his hand towards her direction, making those near her look at (f/c) femme.

Three platforms float up as makeshift stairs. Hesitantly, (Y/n) steps on the first platform. She climbs onto the second, before stopping on the third. Right next to Sentinel, their difference in height was very noticeable.

Sentinel prime grabs her hand, smiling warmly. He glances towards the crowd, watching their reactions. (Y/n) looked to the crowd as well, but instead she was looking for her two friends. She was disappointed to see neither of them.

Little did she know that they were behind her, caged by metal and glass. With a conflicted expression on his face, D-16 looks up at the two. He felt his spark crackling, getting heavy in his chassis. He knew Orion was looking at him, but he didn't meet his gaze. 

“Racers, on your marks!”

D-16 feels Orion putting something on his back, looking behind he finds his jetpack. “Why’d you bring jetpacks?” He questions.

“It’s time to show them we are more than meets the eye” Orion answers, sounding cocky.

“Oh no”

“And they’re off!” The announcer yells.

The glass in front of them turns green, the floor underneath them opens up. Orion turns on his jetpack and catches D-16 before he hits the ground. They stood out from the big group of racers.

The first to notice them was (Y/n), leaning towards their direction. “It’s them” She gasps, not expecting to find them in the race of all places.

Sentinel notices her moving away from him, making him look over what was happening. He squints his eyes at the two off figures in between the racers. “I’m sorry, are those miners in the race?” He says, confused. He looks at the big screen to get a better view of it.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing here! Miners trying to run in the Iacon 5000!” The announcer exclaimed in surprise. The miners in the crowd cheer, happy to see one of their own racing besides those with cogs.

Glancing back at his future Conjunx Endura, Sentinel finds her looking in awe at the two miners. Most likely that she was familiar with them as she was a miner herself after all. But he cannot help but feel bitter that she was far more interested in them than him.

Even with just their jetpacks, Orion and D-16 had gotten far. Using their wits, they somehow take down Darkwing in the process. They were about to cross the finish line first, but an engine from another player shoots out and hits D-16. Orion drags his friend further, only to be tackled as a racer rides through them and crosses the finish line. To add salt to their wounds, the rest of the racers finish before the two miners could even get up.

(Y/n) moves away, about to get off the floating platform. But she was stopped by Sentinel grabbing her arms, “Where are you going?” He asks in a light tone. But the way he said it, it felt possessive.

“I’m going to check on them, I want to see if they're alright. They’re my friends” (Y/n) explains, ignoring his grip. She also wanted to tell them what happened during the time they didn’t see each other.

The prime couldn't let her out his sight, he can’t let her slip out of his grasp. “Don’t worry, I will check on them for you. I will get a guard to escort you to your room” Sentinel ‘assures’ her, his servo travels from her arm to her shoulder plate.

Finding no point in arguing with him, (Y/n) lowers her head. “I understand, thank you” She says, defeated. 

Without even being inside the palace, she felt trapped in Sentinel's presence. She was escorted away by two guards, one of each side of her. Their height hid her from others and hid the world for her.

They left her once she was brought to her room. She sits down next to the window, leaning against the wall. She wondered what Sentinel said to her friends, did they ask about her? She felt so far away from them, like they were in different worlds. She felt so small.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After that, she was kept in her room like a caged animal. The clock was ticking down until the wedding, Sentinel seemed to be working hard to plan it all. (Y/n) hoped that once the wedding happened, she would have more freedom.

From time to time, she would ask guards on updates of her two friends. The first few times, she was told that they weren’t able to find the two. But after that, they stopped listening to her requests.

She perks when she hears someone knocking on the door. She wasn't able to say anything before it opened. Walking in was Sentinel, with his servos behind his back. 

(Y/n) gets up and walks over to him, greeting him with a smile. “You came to visit!” She calls out. She can’t help but feel joy that she finally had company again.

“I can’t just leave my bride to be all alone, someone has to appreciate your pretty face plate. I brought you something, to celebrate our love” Pulling from behind his back, Sentinel reveals a present wrapped in blue paper with a golden ribbon tied around it. He holds it out for her to grab.

She takes it from him, carefully untying the ribbon. She removes the lid of the medium sized box, peeking inside of it. What she found inside was a cog, giving a soft (f/c) light. Her intake opens in shock, her spark swells in gratefulness. 

“I…I–” She was at a loss of words, not sure what to say. She hugs Sentinel's waist, as she is too small to wrap her arms any higher. “Thank you!” She squeals with joy.

Sentinel tenses up at the touch, stopping himself from pushing her off. He pats her head, trying to keep a smile on his face. “It’s no problem, of course. It’s the least I can do. Now come on, put it in” He advises.

Letting go of him, (Y/n) takes the cog out of the box. She places the cog in her chest, feeling warmth emanating from it. Her form began to change, she grew taller and her armor became more complex. She gazes upon her new look, tracing on the edges of her plates in fascination. 

The cog felt so right in her previous empty chassis, it was like it was a part of her that was missing. It made her wonder how Sentinel got one and why her and other miners weren’t made with them. But she decides to keep those questions to herself. 

“You look divine, sweetspark” Sentinel mentions, cupping (Y/n)’s chin. It made the femme realize she had grown twice her original size, Sentinel now being only (almost) two heads bigger than her.

“Thank you” (Y/n) responds, but this time she was completely sincere. Her feelings of being trapped being pushed to the back of her mind.

“As much as I want to stay, I have to go on an expedition to find the matrix of leadership. See you at the altar, darling” Sentinel spoke in a loving voice. He turns away, his smile faltering. He walks out the room and closes the door behind him.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Orion, D-16, Elita-1 and B-127 return to the cave where Alpha Trion was waiting for them after they witness Sentinel Prime working for their worst enemy: the Quintessons. He was also the one to backstab the primes and killed them off one by one.

“That really was something, huh” B-127 awkwardly utters, feeling the thick tension in the cave. “I’d really hate being married to that guy” He remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

It makes Orion and D-16 freeze in place, remembering something that slipped their mind. They exchange looks before looking at Elita-1, who seem to realise as well.

B-127 notices the reactions, confusing him. “Did I say something wrong?” He asks.

“The wedding!” D-16 paces back and forth, beginning to panic. “(Y/n), our (Y/n) is marrying that tyrant and we have to stand around” He exclaims, frustrated. He was starting to think that his friend didn’t have a choice in becoming Sentinel Conjunx Endura.

“Okay, okay, that is another thing to add to the list of reasons to stop Sentinel. We can do this, stop the wedding and expose Sentinel. Do you know when it’s being held?” Orion asks Elita-1, placing his servo on his chin.

The femme thinks, trying to remember. “After the race, he made a second announcement. The wedding is going to be held in the middle of Iacon over…ten groons if I remember correctly” Elita-1 explains, making sure she remembered correctly.

“Ten groons!? There is no way we can make it back to Iacon in that time AND stop Sentinel!” D-16 yells, throwing his arms in the air.

B-127 stands next to Alpha Trion, both equally confused on what was going on. The prime pieces together that the traitor was marrying a friend of theirs. Meanwhile the yellow bot thinks about how he has never been to a wedding. ding.

The cave that they were residing in began to shake, telling that they were found out. Alpha Trion points the four bots towards a hidden tunnel to escape, while he buys them time. The clock kept moving, so did they.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) gazes into the tall mirror in front of her, not sure of what she thought of her reflection. Draped from her chest, around her arms and ending on her back with a bow was a delicate gold fabric. It reminded her of the present Sentinel gave her not so long ago. Her digits trace it carefully, scared to rip it. She pauses, thinking she heard yelling above her. But a knock at the door makes her ignore the noise. “Yes?” She answers, curious on who it was. 

“The wedding is about to commence, it’s time to bring you to the altar” A guard from the other side of the door, the femme had grown quite familiar with him already. Not long after that, the door opens to reveal (Y/n). She kept quiet as she was escorted away.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Right at that moment, above her room was the High guard, along with her friend (and B-127) were held. Sentinel walks past the rows of captured rebels. “ Look at this rowdy bunch! The High Guard! You know, you guys have been tough to find. Every trip to the surface, I’ve been searching for you” He looked down on the ones who escaped him for too long, feeling victorious.

“Tracking the bots in the cave led me right to them,” Airachnid adds, smugly.

Sentinel reaches the two front rows, spotting the leader of the High guard. “Oh-ho-ho! You captured Starscream!” He says in surprise, getting a distorted high pitched voice yelling angry things in return. He laughs at the hilarious sound “You sound ridiculous. It’s weird”.

He turns to his other side, finding D-16 kneeled down. His black helm and armor being replaced with silver, now having a cog given by Alpha Trion. Other changes being his height and a cannon on his right arm. “what a tragic story you’ll be. Atop the leaderboard in your sector and secretly a traitor” The fake prime taunts him, mockingly, “Getting close to the future queen of Iacon so you can give her right over to the Quintessons”.

“Keep her out of your mouth” D-16 mutters, bitterly. He glares up at the taller bot with hatred. His love for his friend was pure, his lie infuriated him. If he wasn’t handcuffed, he would’ve pulled out glossa out his intake.

“All of you are traitors. You’ve been working with the Quintessons to sabotage my expeditions. You’re the reason why I haven’t found the Matrix of Leadership yet” Sentinel makes up the fake truth, the story that he will tell citizens of Iacon.

“None of that is true!” B-127 argues, sitting right next to D-16. “The people are going to find out one way or another”.

“About what? That I plucked the cogs from your newborn chests? Forced you to mine so that I could pay off the Quintessons and live like a king? None of that matters. Because the truth is what I make it” Sentinel declares, leaning down towards the yellow bot. “I was originally going to execute you all right now. But since I’m such a great leader, I’ll let you watch the wedding. An execution is not something you do right before such a beautiful moment”.

In the corner of his eye, Sentinel notices D-16 getting up onto his feet. The blue and gold bot straightens his back, standing in front of the ex-miner. “Well, well. What’s this about?”

“I’m not kneeling in front of you” D-16 declares, not having a single drop of respect for the horrible boy in front of him.

“Feeling confident, are we?”

“You don’t scare me. You want to know why?” D-16 states, standing his ground.

“please” Sentinel smirks, telling him to elaborate. He was curious about what the ex-miner was going to tell him.

“Because I don’t have anything left to lose. You took it all” The silver bot answered. His best friend is ‘dead’, his crush is getting forced to get married to a monster and everything he believed in was a lie.

“I sure did,” Sentinel replies. Before punching the mech, watching him fall onto the ground. His blue optics latch onto the slightly damaged Megatronus prime decal on D-16’s shoulder, he snatches it off. “Ah, Megatronus Prime. Of course you were a fan.  Megatronus was the coolest Prime! The biggest! The baddest! The toughest!”

He opens his chassis to reveal a purple cog in his slot. “That’s why, after I killed him, I took his cog for myself” He says, looking proud as talk about the horrible things he has done.

“He was greater than you’ll ever be!” D-16 yells at him from the floor.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty great. But I can understand why you’d want to wear his face over mine. Here. Let’s make sure it doesn’t come off” Sentinel drops the decal onto D-16’s chassis. Airachnid hands him a blowtorch, which he gladly takes. D-16 grunts in pain as he feels the blowtorch digging through his metal. B-127 looks on in horror, helpless to do anything. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) stood at the beginning of the long carpet, anxiously fiddling with her golden accessory. She felt everyone staring at her, making her not feel any better. She began walking down the aisle, passing by rows of cybertronians. She turns her gaze forward to see Sentinel standing at the altar, waiting for her. Next to him stood the officiant, a red mech called Knockout. She reaches the altar, climbing onto it. She stood on the opposite side of Sentinel, hesitantly looking him in the eye.

“Alright, let’s begin this” Knockout clears his throat, looking at the tablet he was holding. “Welcome mechs and femmes to the spark bonding of Sentinel prime and (Y/n). For almost fifty cycles, there hasn’t been a wedding ‘cause of the hard times Cybertron has been through ever since the death of thirteen primes and the disappearance of the Matrix Of Leadership. But once more we are able to witness such a beautiful occa—”.

 He was cut off by the ground beginning to slightly shake as a loud crash sound was heard. Sentinel looks to his left, seeing a metro crashing into the tour where the High guard was being held. The crowd gasps in shock and worry, thinking it was an accident. All the screens turn on, playing the same video. “

“About what? That I plucked the cogs from your newborn chests? Forced you to mine so that I could pay off the Quintessons and live like a king? None of that matters. Because the truth is what I make it” Sentinel’s voice echoes throughout Iacon. Footage of Sentinel kneeling in front of quintessons, giving over energon to the. Citizens gasp at what they were seeing, the one they trusted was sabotaging them all along.

(Y/n) steps back with an expression of horror and disgust. Sentinel reaches for her, trying to make up an excuse to cover his tracks. He sees as everything he built began falling down, in a blink of an optic.

“Sentinel!”

A voice yells from above. Knockout was just fast enough to pull (Y/n) away to a safer distance. A bot comes crashing in, tackling Sentinel to the ground. Sentinel tries to fly away, but the cybertronian grabs him by the leg and pulls him back down. The mysterious bot raises their arm, shooting Sentinel’s wing with it. The blast carries through and hits one of the tall buildings.

(Y/n) squints her optics, trying to get a good look at Sentinel’s attacker. Their helm shape seemed familiar, along with the silver color of their armor. But she recognises who it was once they turn around to look at her. “D..!?” She yells out in surprise, she realises how much he changed since last she saw him. It has been like 3 cycles, what has happened since then.

Letting go, D-16 turns around to face the femme. She also changed in the time he was gone. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more. His attention was brought to the golden fabric draped over her form, most likely given by Sentinel. Dressed like was an object that he claimed. It disgusted him.

He turns back to the traitor lying pathetically on the ground. He raises his arm cannon, pointing at him. He was about to shoot, when he was pushed aside. “What are you doing?!” He yells, realising it was Orion who pushed him.

“It’s over, D. Everyone in Iacon knows the truth” Orion argues, standing in front of his friend. 

The two go back and forth, tussling with each other. D-16 raises his canon, firing at Sentinel. Orion jumps in front of him, not thinking his friend would actually shoot. It goes straight through it, creating a giant gaping hole in Orion’s shoulder. He falls backwards, almost into a seemingly endless pit. D-16 catches his hand, laying down on the edge.

“Orion!’ (Y/n) calls out, gasping. She tries to rush over to them to help pull the injured mech up. But she was held back by Knockout, she slightly thrashed in his grip. “Hey, let go! I have to help them”.

“No uh, no way” Knockout shook his head, seeming a bit afraid. “No idea who that mech is, but he is way too dangerous” He said, eyeing the view.

Thinking of all that has happened since he met Orion, D-16’s view started to change. He was always the one to get the reckless bot out of trouble, risking his own metal to help him. If Orion was out of the picture, he could finally get rid of Sentinel for once and all. “I’m done saving you” His optics flicker from orange to a fiery red, finally crossing the line. He lets go, letting go of Orion.

“No!” (Y/n) yells, jerking forward. She could only watch as one of her dearest friends fell into oblivion. Then her attention was turned to D-16 fighting the guards that appeared to protect Sentinel. The silver bot easily finishes them off and puts his attention on the crawling bot. 

Grabbing him, D-16 pulls him up into the air. With one strong pull, he tears Sentinel in two, leaving the broken bot to lay on the ground like scrap metal. There was a weird satisfied feeling coursing through her circuits. She didn't notice Knockout had disappeared, probably scared off by his former leader getting ripped apart.

D-16 reaches into Sentinel's chest, ripping Megatronus’ cog out of it. He walks to the edge of the stage, facing the giant crowd of cybertronians. He raises the cog in the air, yelling to those down below “The Age of Primes has ended! No more false prophets! Follow me and you will never again be deceived. RISE UP!”.

The High guard chants “Rise up”, eating every word D-16 yelled. The tall mech continued his speech, “I will lead us all into the future!”. He opens his chassis, removing Onyx prime’s cog and replacing it with Megatronus’. His frame became even larger than before, along with his blasters becoming more stronger. “I…am…Megatron!” He announces, naming himself after his fallen idol.

Chaos erupts as D-16, now known as Megatron and the High guard begin destroying buildings surrounding them. B-127 and Elita-1 tried stopping him but with little success. Like a phoenix coming up from the ashes, Orion Pax or more correctly Optimus prime emerges from the depths of Cybertron’s core. In his chassis was the Matrix of Leadership l, given to him by Primus himself. It enraged Megatron.

The two tumble off the podium, fighting with their new found abilities. From friends to foes, how much can change overnight. It all comes to a stop when Optimus slices Megatron’s cannon with his newly obtained axe. With a heavy spark, Optimus banishes his old friend.

Pushing past him, Megatron limps off. He stops in place, he turns around. He holds his servo out towards…(Y/n). His red optics soften, a stark difference from how he looked at Optimus.

(Y/n) gazes at him, then towards Optimus and finally to Megatron’s servo. Now she had to make a decision, one that would change her life forever.

Take Megatron’s hand or stay by Optimus' side

[rafescherie]

after your encounter with pogue!rafe, he can't get you off his mind. deciding to settle things once and for all, he shows up to your house, unannounced, to try to resolve everything.

salt in the sugar bowl miniseries | part one - part two - you are currently on part three |

cherie's note — this series was so much fun to write (◜ᴗ◝). while this is the end to the miniseries, i will continue to write and accept requests for pogue!rafe. thank you for all the love!

you knew he was there before you saw him.

the air outside was too still, too thick. the kind of quiet that wasn't really quiet at all — like something waiting to be shattered.

and then, like clockwork, you spotted him.

parked across the street, beside your own vehicle, he leaned against the side of his truck, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. the shadows made a mess of him, carving out sharp edges and dark hollows, but you could recognize him from anywhere.

rafe cameron.

his face, illuminated now by the amber orange hue from the fire burning his stick, he was watching you. as if it wasn't bad enough you could feel it from where you stood, meters away, his eyes were dark as he watched you approach your vehicle.

you inhaled through your nose, exhaled slow.

you weren't going to stop. you weren't going to ask why he was here. that was the game, wasn't it? ignore him, pretend it doesn't make your heart stutter, pretend like something in you doesn't still recognize him even now, even despite unnerving presence inside of your usually quiet neighborhood.

you moved toward you car, he moved too.

just a step forward, nothing more. a shift in weight, an acknowledgement, the kind of silent understanding that made your pulse flicker.

your grip on your keys tightened. "waiting for someone?'

he exhaled slow, the smoke leaving his lips in a lazy stream. "yeah."

your stomach twisted, though you knew the answer before you even asked. "...who?"

his eyes flicked up to meet yours. steady. heavy.

"you."

his voice sent something cold curling down your spine, but you didn't let it show. instead, you gripped your keys a little tighter, tilting your head. "if you've got something to say, just say it."

"got nothing to say, sweetheart." he replies, his lips connecting with the cigarette once more, the inhale of smoke sharp in the air.

you huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head in disbelief as you pulled open your car door. "well, you're parked outside my house like a fucking stalker, so yeah, maybe you do."

there's a beat of silence between you now. the air is thick with the stench of cigarettes, a habit you had worked so hard to help him get over when you were still together, now down the drain it seemed. that wasn't your concern anymore — respectfully, none of your business.

"your boyfriend doesn't pick you up?" he questions, pressing the cigarette against his lips.

"he doesn't have a truck," you speak over a whisper, turning your attention away. "besides, wasn't a good match. i haven't spoken to him in days."

relief washes over his tense body, the first good news in weeks. despite the words shocking any other normal person, rafe feels a sense of encouragement take place within his brain, suddenly at ease.

he clears his throat, "look we... we need to talk about what... what happened."

you cross your arms over your chest, staring at the man with those same curious, doe-eyes he had fallen in love with so many weeks ago.

"i have somewhere i need to be, rafe." you sigh out. his timing always seemed to be impeccable, truly.

he studied you for a second too long, his gaze dragging over you like he was memorizing something. the forced laugh that he exerts at the bluntness makes your pulse quicken, the scuffing sounds of his boot louder in the mess of tension.

"nah," he starts, rubbing his jaw, "y'not going anywhere for a bit, 'least not till i'm done talking with you."

you swallow hard. instead, you stand there, hovering in the small space between your car and the door, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"if you came here to play games, rafe, i don’t have time for it." you retort.

the corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't smile. a sharp exhale falls from his nose, fingers digging frustratingly into the palm of his own hands.

"y'think i came here to play?"

something in the way he said it made your breath catch.

your own fingers twitched around your keys, "what else would it be?"

his jaw ticked, and before you could take another breath, he took a step closer. not enough to touch, but enough that the space between you suddenly felt suffocating.

"you really think i'd waste my time if i didn't need to see you?"

his words knocked the wind out of you more than you wanted to admit.

you inhaled, gaze flickering away — anywhere but his eyes. "you don't need anything from me, rafe."

"that right?" his voice was lower now, quieter, like he was testing the waters.

you didn't answer. the silence lingered in the air for far too long, neither of you daring to utter another word into the late night wind.

because the way he was looking at you — like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, like he was still trying to find the parts of himself he'd left in you — made your throat tighten.

his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke again, "could've gone anywhere tonight," he chuckles dryly, "but i'm here."

"i don't know what you want me to say, ray."

he shakes his head lightly in disbelief, "don't need to say anything, angel. just need you to listen." his eyes meet yours again, searching for something — anything, familiar within them. "can you do that for me? or are you still pretending you don't care?"

you didn't want to accept — he had broken your heart once before, shamelessly at that, you didn't want to give him the opportunity to do it again. the last thing you wanted was for this man you loved so deeply to get your hopes up once more, just to completely break it all down in the end.

he takes your silence as approval, resting his hand on the open car door. there's hardly space between you now, the only divider being the metal car door you teeter inside of — the same car that had started all of this in the first place.

you were too good to him. even he can't fathom how good you are to him — despite all the shit he had put you through the last few weeks, here you were, waiting patiently for him to speak. you knew better, but curiosity got the best of you, like it always had.

he takes a deep breath, the air around him growing heavy with tension. "i shouldn't... i shouldn't have ended things the way i did."

oh?

not what you had expected to hear, but nonetheless, your heart skips a beat, your stomach twisting once more.

"what... what do you mean?" you question, unsure of yourself — timid.

his heart was racing as he watched you process what he had said. he wanted to keep going, wanted to just keep speaking and let it all out, but his mind went blank, and he found himself hesitating, trying to find the words.

rafe had never grown up in an environment where talking about your feelings was encouraged — not in a healthy way, calm and collected, like this conversation. nights spent listening to his parents argue had trained his young brain to become explosive, like his father. but he wanted to do better, he needed to do better — for you.

"i uh..." his voice broke slightly, "i mean... i made a mistake."

"a mistake?" you echo back, tilting your head to look at him, a puzzled look on your face.

he let out a slow sigh, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before flickering away again as he tried to get the words out.

"breaking up with you." he finally managed to confess, his voice gruff. "ending things. it was a mistake."

for the first time tonight, you're speechless. truly, speechless.

rafe didn't do apologies, or even admit he was wrong. his stubbornness and hotheadedness was an inherent trait of his personality — so it was beyond confusing to see him standing here, admitting he had fucked up.

he knew he had to keep going, he had to keep talking. now that he had started, he couldn't stop himself — and you didn't want him to. this had been the most clarity you had gotten in weeks.

"i shouldn't have ended it without talking to you," he continued, his jaw clenching. "should've just... tried to explain... instead i just..." his voice trails off as the guilt washes over him. he hated himself for the way he handled it, hated that he had made you think he didn't want you.

that was far from the truth. for the first time since being cut off from his cushioned life, living with his father, he had seen a purpose. a reason to keep going, despite the trouble, and the constant stress.

he shakes his head, dragging a hand against his short buzzed hair before continuing. "i didn't... i didn't want to end things, alright? just... just didn't know what else to do..."

you let out a shaky sigh, the words sending your stomach snapping at the confession.

the words settle between you, heavy and raw. the weight of his locutions settle like an invisible force. he watches you swallow, watching you blink up at him as if deciding whether or not to let him back in — whether or not to believe him.

the moonlight casts a silvery glow over your features, making you look almost unreal, like something out of a dream. or, maybe a memory — one he's spent too many nights trying to forget, only to end up right back here, drawn to you like the tide to the shore.

rafe exhales, staring at the girl before him like she might disappear if he blinks. you stand there, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, like you were holding something together. maybe your resolve. maybe your heart. maybe it was both. he swears he tried. tried to stay gone. tried to convince himself that you were better off. but the second he saw you again, walking into his auto shop, bounding in like nothing had changed, all the pretending fell apart.

the silence stretches, the night air thick with something fragile. then, finally, you exhale, shoulders slumping. like a weight released from your shoulders, the confession breaks down something within yourself — something that had been stirring for weeks.

"rafe..." his name is barely a whisper, but it's enough to make his heart stutter.

it wasn't an invitation. not yet. but it's not rejection either.

"i mean it," he says, voice steadier this time. "i tried staying away. i thought it'd be better for you. but i can't-" he shakes his head, stepping closer, blue eyes never leaving yours. "i can't do this without you."

your hand lingers against his chest, right over his heart, and he knows you can feel it hammering beneath your palm. you could pull away. you could walk away. and maybe, you should have. but you don't. instead, you stand there, watching him like you're searching for something — proof, maybe, this time is different. that he's different.

"you hurt me," you whisper.

he lifts a hand, hesitating before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers barely brushing against your sensitive skin. "i know."

your gaze snaps back to his. there's hesitation in your eyes, a guarded look he's never seen before — not from you. and god, it guts him.

another pause, then, softer, "don't do it again."

his heart stutters. when he looks at you, you're already watching him the same way he's watching you — like you're terrified, but hope is seeping in around the edges.

he nods, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "i won't."

your breath hitches, and for a long moment, neither of you move. slowly, you close your eyes, pressing your forehead against his.

and he begins to wonders what he could have possibly done in his past life that would merit meeting a girl like you, someone so sweet and gentle with him, despite all the turmoil.

and for the first time in a long time, rafe feels like maybe — just maybe — he's found his way back.

taglist — @maybankslover , @fastlovela

[edamameimei]

Perhaps, Even This —chapter 25

A year ago, you were known as your friend group’s “sunshine.” You were able to light up a whole room with your energy and everyone could rely on you for your quick wit and easy humor. You lived life simply one day at a time. However, seemingly out of nowhere, that all changes. Now a Junior in university, you find it extremely difficult to do all the things you used to do. Especially being the Resident Assistant for the Geffen Dorms. New residents begin to move in and one them is a girl you could only describe as “radiant." Her name is Megan Skiendiel, and at first, you don’t welcome the positivity but as you two continue to meet and hang out, you find yourself becoming the person you used to be. Will you be able to be that person you were a year ago? Or will everything just stay the same?

25. kidnapping

half written (wc: 1160)

Megan can’t help the smile on her face as you drag her toward your car, a determination in every step you take. You let go of her hand and open the door for her, glancing at her to see her looking at you with admiration. You roll your eyes. “Are you gonna get in the car or what?” She just smiles even wider, getting into the passenger seat. You close the door and walk to the driver’s side, getting in your car and immediately starting the engine. You hand Megan your phone and start driving to an unknown destination. “You’re DJ tonight. Make it count.” She lights up and begins queuing songs for the drive. When it came to music in your car, you didn’t usually allow others to pick the vibe. But after hearing about Megan’s hard day, you couldn’t help but want to do everything in your power to make sure she feels better. 

You grip your steering wheel tighter when you remember who caused Megan’s bad mood. 

You decide the first stop would be a 7/11 trip. Megan sits up in her seat when you park the car and looks at you with an excited glint in her eyes. You look back at her, your eyes softening at the sight of her smile. The way she bounces in her seat, the little dance she does before getting out of the car to get a Slushee. You’ve only known Megan for three months but you can confidently say you know the Chinese girl like the back of your hand. It’s difficult not to– especially because she’s your resident in Geffen. But Megan wears her personality proudly. From day one, she never hid herself from you. She laid everything out for you on the table and little by little, you gave her the same. 

Slowly, sure. But you can’t deny it. Megan knows you a lot better than some of your closest friends. 

You walk into the convenience store, trailing behind Megan. She makes a beeline for the Slushees while you peruse the snack section. Your eyes find a cinnamon snack you can’t help but have a guilty pleasure for, but you opt for something else. You intend to share something with the Chinese girl. The girl finds you in the aisle, holding a blue Slushee in one hand and a red one in the other. You smile and feel a warmth spread throughout your body. You didn’t have to tell Megan which one you prefer– she just knew. After paying for the Slushees and snack, you both sit in your car, enjoying your late night snacks. You look at Megan, covering your mouth to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your throat. She drinks her Slushee quickly, causing her to furrow her brows and pinch her forehead. She quietly murmurs, “Brain freeze.” 

Without thinking, you lean over, placing a quick kiss on the top of her head. When you pull away, she looks at you with flushed cheeks and puppy eyes that cause your breath to hitch. You try to remain nonchalant, whispering, “You good?” She nods in response, still a bit dazed by your random act of affection. You sit back in your seat, grabbing your phone so you can hide the way your own cheeks are tinted with a hue of red. You clear your throat. “Beach? We can sit by the water. I have jackets in my trunk.” You don’t even wait for her reply. You already know she’s smiling widely and nodding her head as you start the engine again, a new destination in mind. 

You’re sitting on the beach with Megan when you decide to ask her the question that has been lurking in the back of your mind. 

“Why’d you lie?” Megan looks at you, surprised by your words. She backtracks, trying to remember when she has done something like that. She begins to panic. She wants to defend herself but doesn’t want to invalidate how you feel. She must have taken too long to answer because she feels you grab her hand, squeezing it gently. You sigh, looking at your connected hands. You have never felt so protective over someone. Your ex was always so sure of herself, never needing you to look after her. She often rolled her eyes when you would try, telling you to stop “being so clingy.” 

You’re scared of being too much, doing too much. In the past, when you tried to give everything, it left you so broken and wounded. It showed you how cruel love was. No matter what you did, you would just get hurt in the end. You could love someone so much and it would never be enough. 

Desperately, deep down, you were still aching to be enough. 

You look at Megan, your eyes gazing into hers. “Why didn’t you tell me how dance was actually going?” You ask quietly. Megan looks down at her lap and you notice how her bottom lip quivers slightly. You squeeze her hand again, shifting closer. “Why were you hiding that from me?” Megan takes a shaky breath and closes her eyes. She shakes her head and whispers, “Because I didn’t want you to worry about me…” She opens her eyes and looks at you, her brown eyes glisten with tears. “I already put so much on your plate as my RA… I couldn’t add to your stress…” Her voice cracks as she speaks and it breaks your heart. You pull her into your arms, wrapping them around her shoulders. You hold her as if you were protecting her from the world, shielding her from everything that could hurt her. 

she wraps her arms around your neck, burying her face into your shoulder. Instances like this make Megan want to ask if this truly was platonic. If every little moment so far was just because you were friends. But she knows better. She didn't want to risk losing you. That’s the last thing she’d ever want. 

So, she inhales the scent of your shampoo and holds her tongue. She lets her fingers play with the hairs on the back of your neck. Her heart rate picks up when she hears the next words leave your lips. “You’re my best friend, Meiyokie.” They were simple, really. But to Megan, it meant everything to her. She pulls away from you slightly and looks at you. There was a sincerity in your eyes that made her heart beat even faster. She whispers, “Can I kiss you?” Your eyes widen at her question. But she holds onto you even tighter, scared you may walkaway. She quickly adds, “Platonically.” You raise an eyebrow. You know you shouldn’t. That kiss on New Year’s shouldn’t have even happened. But as she inches closer to you, the way her eyes flutter close, you knew there was nothing that could stop you now. Before closing the gap, you whisper back, “Yeah… Platonically.”

a/n: and another one bc im rlly nice. the written part was sort of rushed so apologize for any typos lmao

requests are open

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[fanfic-obsessed]

Aging the Past

Here’s another fun one that could dip into the angstier side of things if you choose to go there. 

As a reminder, expect no canon. 

What we start with is, through magic, Red Hood and Red Robin are deaged to 6 years old.  The deaging knocks them unconscious (because such magic should always knock the victim out), so no one knows if the deageing is only physical, or if their minds were deaged as well. They are quickly collected and brought back to the Batcave. Even the magic user, captured by Robin, was confused since that was not the magic that was cast. 

Now unknown to absolutely everyone, including Tim and Jason. When they were 6 years old, they were each abducted. 

In Jason’s case, Willis Todd had used Jason as collateral as a bet. Jason was taken in order to make sure that Willis would pay up. Thankfully Willis did, but Jason did spend three days in the company of a handful of goons who talked about selling him to the nearest rich pervert. Jason was young enough that he had forgotten the mild trauma by the time he became Robin. 

In Tim’s case, he was abducted by his Nanny at the time and sold to one of the gangs looking for ransom.  His abductors were never able to get in touch with the Drake parents. After about a week, during which much of the gang would talk loudly about selling him, one of the only sympathetic members of the gang (who felt very uncomfortable with trafficking, for all that he was ok with abduction) managed to manipulate everything so that he got Tim out and dropped him off at Drake manor. Tim, a very intelligent 6 year old, figures out how to contact the agency the Nanny came from (thankfully the nanny was simply a bad egg, the agency was not corrupt) and says that his nanny stopped showing up. The agency, which never realized they were being contacted by 6 year old Tim and not one of his parents, sent a new one. Three months later when the Drakes return they do not realize that the Nanny is different from the one when they left. 

I’m sure you have all guessed that the de aging, which was mental as well as physical, brought each of them back to these respective events.  They both wake up in the infirmary of the bat cave, and become instantly convinced that they have been sold by their respective abductors. They have no way of knowing that they think it is two entirely different years (Since Jason is actually two years older). 

The various bats wait for the deaged duo to wake up, no one quite sure what to expect. Given how badly Tim and Jason’s first meeting originally happened they were all geared up to have to separate two frightened, fighting children even if neither remembers. They were not prepared for these two children to instantly bond and escape the bat caves into one of the tunnels. 

It takes almost two hours for them to be found. 

During those two hours Jay and Tim bond like a pair of feral cats. Though 6 years old, Jason is well aware that he might not be able to go back home, for fear that Willis would give him right back to his abductors. Tim, to the extent that he is able for a six year old, makes plans to bring Jason home. 

To that end Tim decides that he and Jason will need to get married. Because married people live together and love each other and Tim already knows that he will love Jason. Jason agrees. 

After they are found it takes another three hours or so to convince them that they have not been sold. During this time both Jason and Tim bit Bruce and Stephanie. Jason had also attempted to fight Damian, who picked up Tim.  Tim inadvertently did psychic damage to Dick when he said something to the effect of ‘you look like Dick Grayson, or the flying Graysons, if Dick was old’. Jason and Tim are not told that they are de aged. 

It also becomes clear that Jason and Tim are smitten with each other, as only tiny children can be. Both talk about getting married when they get older.  Everyone, at different times, makes sure to save recordings for the surveillance cams to tease Red Hood and Red Robin with later. 

If we want to keep it light, it ends with the spell being broken, Jason and Tim returning to their correct age. They have their memories of that time, or even if they don’t they have plenty of recordings that their family shows them, and start dating not long after. A happily ever after is had by all. 

On the slightly angstier side:

The deaging is permanent. There is no way to undo the spell and if there is a way to retrieve Red Hood and Red Robin’s memories, it can only be done after they reach the age they were before (21 for Red Robin, 23 for Red Hood). Even then no one is sure. 

In a way it is lucky that the boys are young enough that they do not know what year it is supposed to be. They are also young enough that they can be distracted until they forget about their original families.  The decision is made to wait until they are at least late teens to tell them of their older selves. In the meantime Jason and Tim are adopted again, no hyphen to their names.  Jason Todd was never declared alive again, but Tim Drake-Wayne is listed as missing presumed dead after going on a trip to South America, just one more stupid American tourist becoming part of a horror movie. 

Now the Batfam as a whole is grieving Red Robin and Red Hood, while raising their younger selves. Adn trying not to let on that they are grieving. Even if they get their memories back, neither Tim nor Jason will be the same. They can’t be. They are going to have a minimum of 14 to 17 years of a different life. 

Bruce is straight up not able to adopt them. He breaks down entirely one night, a few days after they realize this is permanent. He is self aware enough to know that he would never be able to treat Tim and Jason as who they are now, and would always expect them to be who they had been. This is compounded by the realization that little boys with the name Jason or Tim anywhere near the name Wayne would, at best, make it seem like Jason Todd-Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne were being replaced. 

In the end, on paper, Stephanie adopts Tim while Barbara adopts Jason. In practice they do not separate the boys, who live in an apartment with Stephanie (in a building that was bought by Bruce) and Cass. Damian was actually much closer to the boys then he was to their older counterparts, feeling much more comfortable being their older brother than their younger brother.  Dick was an affectionate uncle, but there was also a distance because he had lost his brothers all over again.  Bruce and Alfred slotted into Grandpa and great Grandpa, respectively. 

It was obvious for anyone who knew them all before the deaging and after that there was still quite a bit of awkwardness and distance with Tim and Jason. Neither of the boys really noticed until they were older. 

So Jason and Tim grow up together. From the first they do not think of themselves like brothers. They decided that they would get married when they were old enough and never looked back.  They never actually look at anyone else either. For those who have ever watched ‘Boy Meets World’, they are Corey and Topanga as far as all of their civilian friends are concerned. Soulmates for the word go. Their wedding is planned for Jason’s 18th birthday (Since Tim was born in July and Jason was born in August, when they were deaged it made Jason slightly younger on paper) since they were 8 years old. 

Tim is just as intelligent and as observant as he always was, though his self confidence is much better. He does not need to wonder if he is loved. Jason loves him, he knows that. Tim is 12 when he realizes that all of the adults in their life act strange sometimes. When he starts to think that he disappoints the adults in weird ways. Jason and Tim had both known about their families night lives from basically the beginning, and Tim did not want to be a vigilante. Not even tech support. Though he does take to Self defence training well. This Tim also preferred fashion to photography(still very creative, but did not want to view the world through a lens) and was not interested in business or solving cases of any kind.  He wanted to use his observant nature to be a fashion designer.  

Jason is not a fighter. In fact any attempt to give any kind of fighting training beyond the most basic is firmly rebuffed.  He is still a huge literature nerd, though his preference is sci-fi rather than Regency Romance. Jason is also interested in Mechanical Engineering. Jason does become interested in the Vigilante life, but as support like Oracle.  He is also not as connected to Crime Alley as he was the first time around.  

By the time Jason and Tim are 15, several of their civilian friends (and they actually have more civilian friends than vigilante friends, the vigilantes all know what happened to Red Robin and Red Hood and tend to be awkward around Jason and Tim as a result) have commented on the strange reactions or looks that Jason and Tim’s families give sometimes. 

So just Jason and Tim growing, being different from who they were because of the differences in growing up (Stephanie flinched badly the first time Tim called her mom, Jason quickly following suit) and all of the Batfam and co struggling with the ways that the boys are different from who they were and the ways that they are still exactly like who they were. Particularly as they grow and start to look vaguely like who they had been. Just a whole Uncanny Valley effect over the course of years. 

They plan to tell the boys when they are 18 of who they had been. Unfortunately a sixteen year old Jason overhears an argument between Dick and Kon, who was an occasional figure in their lives, about finally telling them.  Every person who knew the boys before and after is conflicted about them getting their memories back.  By the time the boys are in their late teens it is so very obvious that they are happier now, without those memories. But at the same time, there are a lot of good memories that they have lost. 

Jason, after overhearing the argument, goes digging. When their files were locked down, not long after everyone realized that the spell was permanent, Barbara specifically locked the files down to be unhackable to Tim’s method of hacking. No one ever remembered to go back and secure it against Jason’s method of hacking. He gets in easily.  He finds Red Hood and Red Robin, everything. Naturally he brings it all back to Tim, his boyfriend and soulmate.  The Red Hood/ Red Robin reveal, with all it entailed, did not go over well. 

Part of the file included a few hours of various arguments that were had back and forth about letting them remember, casting a spell to force the memories, keeping them from remembering. In just about every configuration of vigilantes. Unfortunately, instead of conveying the difficult and complicated feelings everyone had around what happened, it conveyed that Jason and Tim had been kept around because they one day would become Red Hood and Red Robin (Not even Jason Todd and Tim Drake, but the vigilantes). 

Reacting like any other sixteen year olds, they ran to a friend's house with a story of finding out that they may have been adopted to replace people who died (they were not going to be able to explain everything and that would be the closest to what was going on).  The friends' parents, who had also observed some ways that the variety of Batfam (in their civilian guises) could react strangely to Jason and Tim ( and who realized Tim was starting to look an awful lot like Timothy Drake-Wayne and Jason was looking a lot like Jason Todd-Wayne), agree to let them stay for a while.  It takes six months for Stephanie and Cass to convince Tim and Jason to come home, that they loved the boys as their sons, not as the brothers they lost.  Jason decides that, ultimately, he does not want anything to do with being a vigilante after finding out about Red Hood. 

Jason and Tim do get married at 18, fully funded by Bruce (who was awkward, guilty, and willing to support anything either boy wanted-frankly their relationships were better with him as a grandfather than a father).  They are fully civilians by this point. 

Dealers choice if they get their memories back, and if they do, whether it changes anything. 

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Boston Bears: Fake Out - Rugby Player! Ari Levinson x Reader (Part 4)

Summary: You and Ari continue to grow closer as you celebrate Thanksgiving and go to your first rugby game ever.

Word Count: 7.7k words

Warnings: Language! Mention of Cheating Ex! Alcohol Consumption! Sexual Tension! Fluff!

Rugby Explained

Dividers by Me!

Fake Out Series Masterlist /Boston Bears Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 4

Y/N: What kind of thing do I need to wear to this thanksgiving meal?

Ari: You’ll look great in whatever you wear x

Y/N: Knew I should have asked El

Ari: It’s smart casual so nothing too fancy and something that has some give because there’s enough food to feed an army or one rugby team

Ari: Can I ask you to wear something red? x

Y/N: Thanks, smart casual it is

You let out a small sigh as you looked over yourself in the mirror, you had decided to go for a red tartan skater dress. Not because Ari asked you to wear red, but because it was your nicest fall dress which gave you enough room to account for the food baby you were going to create. Although you weren’t sure how much food would be available after all the players got their hands on it. 

Looking in the mirror, it felt like something was missing from the look, you had paired the dress with some brown knee-high leather boots and you had one of your new jackets to go with it. You were also considering wearing Ari’s denim sherpa jacket which was still hanging in your wardrobe despite your attempts to give it back. It would look good PR wise, and you had to admit you kinda liked the pine scent that lingered on it. You may or may not have given it a sniff or two whenever you opened your closet. 

You moved to grab your phone so you could text Elena to see what she thought, but when you opened up your phone it opened up onto the text conversation you had with Ari yesterday. Your eyes landed on his request to wear red and it suddenly clicked. You tossed your phone back onto the bed and moved to your vanity, grabbing your favourite red lipstick.

After a couple of careful swipes, you looked back in the mirror and nodded to yourself. You used to wear red lipstick all the time in LA, it made you feel powerful, but since coming to Boston you’d opted for nudes and muted shades. The closest you got was a red-tinted balm. It had just felt a bit wrong to wear a bold colour, at least it had until now. 

Your phone vibrated on your bed, it was Ari telling you that he was outside. You had nearly suggested that Elena and Chris could pick you up, or you could drive yourself, but you knew that arriving with Ari would look better. You had mentally kicked yourself for even thinking it, you had led multiple fake relationships back in LA but you didn’t realise how difficult it would be to actually be in one. Ari seemed to be a natural at it while you felt like a teen who had never been kissed and got jumpy at a simple touch. You really needed to get these feelings, whatever they were, under control. Not only because you were supposed to be enjoying single life and finding yourself but because you wanted this to work for Ari. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if this failed and he didn’t make the national team. 

You texted him back to say you would be out in a minute before grabbing your new jacket, only to pause and scrap it in favour of Ari’s jacket. You grabbed your purse, threw on one of your new scarves and quickly made your way out. You found Ari parked up right outside your apartment block, leaning against his jeep looking down at his crossed feet. He hadn’t spotted you yet which gave you a moment to take him in because holy shit did he look incredible. 

It was a relatively simple outfit, a charcoal sweater tucked into grey herringbone trousers and a long back coat. But he pulled it off like he was some GQ model. You had seen men dressed smart for work all the time, Dan had often worn a suit to work but Ari was on a whole other level. 

He looked up when you took a few steps down towards him, a lopsided grin growing on his face as his eyes roamed over your body, “you look incredible”

“I’m starting to think this jacket is too casual” you admitted as you closed the distance.

Ari gently shook his head, “no, it's perfect” he opened up the passenger door for you and held out his hand to help you up “and I’m very happy you went with red” he whispered in your ear. 

You felt your heat rise to your cheeks as you did your seatbelt, you were hoping that maybe he’d forgotten that request, but you knew that was never gonna happen. 

It was a short drive to the training center where they were hosting the Thanksgiving meal. Ari held your hands as the two of you walked in together, not every member of the team was present, but most were. You spotted Elena and Chris stood on the far end of the large room talking to Elena’s dad and Coach Barber. 

“Do you want a drink?” Ari whispered in your ear, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear, causing shivers down your spine. 

“Uh yeah, a glass of wine would be nice, thank you” you nodded, glancing up at him. 

“On it, back in a minute” he murmured, resting his hand on your back as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You watched as he walked away towards the bar they had set up, before glancing around the room nervously, tugging at the cuffs of his jacket. You felt really out of place, even though you had been working for the team for over a month you still felt like an outsider. You decided not to wait for Ari to return and made your way over to Elena.

She smiled widely when she saw you approach, opening her arms out for a hug, “oh my god you look incredible”

“Thank you, you do too” you smile gesturing down to her outfit which consisted of blue checked trousers and a white long sleeved tee.

“Y/N, how lovely to see you, El said you’d moved back to the east coast” Coach Rogers smiled “how are you finding Boston?”

“Cold” you admitted honestly making everyone chuckle “but it’s good and thank you Mr Rogers for organising this meal, it's really sweet”

“I’ve told you plenty of times to call me Steve” Coach Rogers scolds gently “don’t make me sound like a broken record”

You chuckled looking down at your feet, you’d known Elena and her dad for years now, and it still felt strange to call him Steve, especially now that you worked for the same organisation. 

“Sorry, I’ll try and remember” you smiled.

“There you are, I was worried for a second” Ari said, interrupting you as he came to a stop at your side. 

“Sorry Levs, can’t keep us apart for long” Elena smirked. 

Ari shrugged before passing you your drink “here you go sweetheart” 

“Thank you, are you not drinking?” you asked noticing he didn’t have a drink for himself. 

Ari glanced at his coaches and captain before shaking his head, “not with the game tomorrow, all the players aren’t allowed to drink”

“Glad to hear it Levinson, hopefully the players who aren’t here are abiding by that” Coach Rogers nodded in appreciation.

“Are you watching the game tomorrow?” Andy asked you.

“Oh” you muttered caught by surprise, you did actually have the day off tomorrow so you should be, it would look bad if you didn’t, but you also didn’t want to just sit there on your own watching a game you didn’t understand “uh yeah I am, it’ll be my first which is exciting” you nodded forcing a smile. 

“You can be sure I’ll be playing at my best” Ari grinned as he wrapped his arm around your waist. 

Coach Rogers smiled as he looked over at the two of you, “I’m sure you will Levinson, maybe you can finally convince Y/N how good Rugby can be” he smirked making you roll your eyes. Both Elena and Steve had been on at you whenever you visited to give rugby a shot. 

“I’ve already won her over once” Ari said as he smiled down at you, almost lovingly, which made you purse your lips to stop yourself from smiling back. 

“You two do seem very happy together… settled”, Coach Rogers nodded with a knowing smile “so don’t mess it up Levinson, her father might be across the pond but I’m here” he warned

“You won’t have to worry about that at all sir” Ari promised.

The six of you continued to chat until it was time to go sit down for the meal. As you went, you quickly stepped out of Ari’s hold to have a quiet word with Elena. Ari frowned when you stepped away, but you sent him a reassuring look as you went. You linked your arm with Elena and pulled her to the side.

“Hey, um I know you’re probably working tomorrow, but could you maybe teach me a bit about rugby?” you asked her quietly.

Elena’s eyes widened almost comically, “you want to know more about rugby?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, if I’m supposed to be dating a rugby player I better at least understand it” you reasoned with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

An excited grin grew on Elena’s face and she bounced a little on the spot “yes! I’ve been waiting for this moment for years! I’ll go okay it with my dad and I’ll sit with you during the game tomorrow and explain it as they play, that’s the best way to understand it” 

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah it’ll be great! I’ll make sure you get the proper rugby experience, you’ll be a fan in no time,” she smirked, “now you better go because your boyfriend is waiting for you”, she nodded. You looked in that direction to see Ari stood by your seats, waiting for you while everyone filtered around to get to their seats “how is that going?”

“Uh” you muttered slowly, drawing your attention back to her “Good, it’s um, it’s been fun”, you nodded, trying to find a good way to explain it. 

“Good, you deserve some fun” she winked before stepping away to go sit down in her spot next to Chris and her dad. 

You turned your attention back to Ari and walked over to join him, he pulled out your chair for you and placed a hand on your back as you sat down, “everything okay?”

“Yeah, El is gonna sit with me at the game tomorrow” you told him as he sat down next to you. 

“Ah nice, you looking forward to it?” he asked as he unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap. 

“I think so, I caught a bit of the final and that wasn’t bad” you admitted with a small shrug, focusing your attention on your napkin because you caught more than just a bit, you watched the entire match.

A lopsided grin grew on Ari’s lips, “Well it’s a whole other game live,” he grinned, “you’ll love it”

You sent him a pointed look because you didn’t think you’d ever love rugby, “we’ll have to see”

Ari chuckled before returning his attention back to the food which was beginning to be passed around. He began loading up his plate while also helping you with yours. You couldn’t believe the amount of food he was putting on his plate, the sight of it alone could put you in a food coma. You had no idea how any of the players could run around a pitch tomorrow.

“How is this not against your diet plan?” you asked as you stared at the mountain of food on his plate. 

“The day before a match is carb-loading day, so Thanksgiving is actually perfect” Ari explained with a grin. 

“You rugby players are another breed” you muttered in disbelief. 

You hadn’t been to a sports game in a long time, Dan took you to a baseball game once but that was completely different to the atmosphere in the stadium today. Your seats seemed to be pretty good, close enough to the pitch that the players weren’t tiny specs but high enough that you could see the entire pitch. 

“Wine is not a drink for a rugby game so I got you a beer” Elena said, passing you your drink as she sat down next to you.

“Thanks”, you said, taking a couple sips of your pint “so what’s the basics I need to know?” you asked, looking out at the players who were warming up. 

“Um, well they have to the pass the ball backwards, and get it over the try line over there” Elena said pointing to the try line “and when they score a try it has be converted by the fly half usually which is Chris” she continues pointing to Chris who was practicing his kicks.

“What position does Ari play?” you asked, scanning the pitch to find him, unable to spot his head of long hair anywhere. 

“He’s a second row in the scrum, they’re usually the strongest and tallest on the team and they provide most of the power in the scrum, he’s right there doing tackling drills” Elena said pointing him out on the pitch. 

You looked at where she was pointing and finally spotted him, your mouth going dry at the sight of him. You knew he was a large and muscular guy, but now that he was in his kit, which looked almost too small for him, you could see just how muscular he was. Especially those thighs which were bursting out of those shorts. The sight of them made you ache and cross your legs, shifting slightly in your seat. You had to shift your eyes away and decided to look above his shoulders, that was safer ground, just.

“What’s he wearing on his head?” you frowned, a bit disappointed that you couldn’t see his locks.

“A scrum cap, most players don’t bother with them but it protects their ears and I guess in Ari’s case it protects his hair” El smirked.

No wonder you couldn’t spot him with that cap hiding the long hair that you secretly loved and wanted to run your hands through.

“I don’t remember seeing him wear one during the final?” you hummed as you watched him warm up, when Elena didn’t say anything you looked over to see her smirking back at you.

“The chin strap broke so he had to use tape instead for his ears, he was really grumpy about it all”, Elena explained “you really paid attention to the clips you saw” she smirked into her pint.

You stuttered slightly as you tried to think of a good explanation, “well it’s pretty hard to miss that mop of hair” you landed on.

Elena snorted, “sure, anyway that’s kinda the jist, the only other main rules are that you can’t tackle a player above the shoulders, past the horizontal or while they’re in the air” she explained.

“Which is why that tackle on Chris in the final was a red because he was in the air and Bryce tipped him” you recalled as you sipped on your beer.

“Exactly, I still want to kill him for that”, Elena growled, shaking her head “And red cards stand for the rest of the match and sometimes lead to match bans, while yellows send the players to the sin bin for 10 minutes”

“Like in hockey?” You asked, you remembered representing a hockey player who spent far too much time in the penalty box.

“Yeah, that’s right, you’re picking this up quick,” Elena said, patting you on the shoulder “you’ll be an expert in no time” she winked.

“Well seems easy enough, is there anything else?” You shrugged.

“Loads, Ari can probably explain the scrum part better, but the rest I’ll explain as it happens because otherwise it’s overwhelming” Elena said with a wave of her hand “oh look our boys are looking this way!” She stood up and waved down to the pitch.

You stood up with her and looked in the same direction to see Chris and Ari stood together with water bottles in hand. Chris was beaming up at Elena, holding his hand up to wave back. You looked over at Ari to see him looking at you with a lopsided grin. You gave him a shy wave which he returned with a wave of his own, followed by him blowing you a kiss.

You then saw Johnny jog over clearly intrigued by what was going on, he looked up to see you and Elena and sent you an over-exaggerated air kiss. An act which had Ari spinning to face him and giving him a shove and exchanging harsh words. Chris stepped in between the two of them, sending Johnny away back to his warm up.

Elena whistled in appreciation, “possessive Ari is hot”

“He was not being possessive” you rolled your eyes as you sat back down.

“Are you blind? Yes, he is, he went all caveman at the Halloween party too,” Elena pointed out as she sat back down and took a large sip of beer.

“He has no reason to”, you shook your head. 

“You’re a catch, only an idiot wouldn’t fight to keep you”, Elena said with a pointed look.

You rolled your eyes, “you know what I meant”

Elena nodded, “I do, but my point still stands,” she said, making you frown over at her “Look, I know you’ve been through hell but don’t let that stop you from finding something good, no matter how soon” she added quietly.

You looked back over at Ari, who was doing some stretches with the rest of the team, “it’s not that” you said quietly. 

It couldn’t be. It was too soon, this was all fake. All of these feelings you had were because you had been starved of affection. They weren’t real feelings, they would all go away eventually as you got used to all of this.

 “Okay, as long as you’re happy”, Elena said putting a comforting hand on your knee.

“I am” you said honestly. 

You didn’t feel sad about what happened anymore, you were still pissed but you weren’t crying into a pint of ice-cream sad anymore. The only thing that lingered was the feeling of self-doubt, the thoughts of what you could have done or hadn’t noticed plaguing you. You felt like you had reverted back to the person you were before you met Elena, the shy girl who avoided confrontation. Maybe you had never stopped being that girl, maybe you did see the signs but ignored them to avoid confrontation. Heck, you didn’t even confront him when you caught him, you left a note and high-tailed it out of there.

“Right, it’s time for kick off”, Elena grinned, bouncing in her seat excitedly, rubbing her hands together “you’re gonna love it!”

You hummed noncommittally “we’ll see” 

To your surprise, you found yourself really getting into it. The energy of the stadium was electric and infectious, Elena always said that you had strange telepathic abilities but you just felt like you fed off of people’s energies. You just got a gut feeling when someone was upset. You were definitely feeding off of Elena’s energy as she cheered and jumped up from her seat. You found yourself jumping up and cheering too when the Bears scored.

She explained what was happening between her cheers and you found it surprisingly easy to understand. You would have to ask  Ari about scrums because even Elena couldn’t tell what was going on and why penalties were awarded.

“Okay, so they’re gonna do a line out so they’ll be lifting either Ari or Curtis up to catch the ball”, Elena said, pointing to where the forwards were gathering. 

“They’re gonna lift Ari?” you asked in disbelief, you knew the players were strong but Ari was huge, could they really lift him?

“Yeah, they always lift the tallest players and since both Ari and Curtis are 6ft 4 they’re the ones” Elena explained.

“6ft 4?” you squeaked in surprise, you knew Ari was tall by the way he towered over you but hearing his exact height was shocking. It made you wonder whether everything was in proportion… his hands were big…

“Yeah, they’re not even the tallest players, there’s a guy who used to play for England that’s 6ft 7” Elena told you with a casual shrug.

“Jesus Christ what do they feed these guys?” you muttered in disbelief. 

The rest of the game was pretty close, the Bears were losing by 3 points by the final couple of minutes. Elena said it was okay though because they had another lineout 5 meters out from the try line and they would easily push themselves over the try line. 

It didn’t pan out like that though, you weren’t sure what exactly went wrong, but when they lifted Ari up into the air to catch the ball, it brushed past his fingers and into the hands of the opposition. You saw Ari swear as they dropped him back down, the Bears scrambling to regain possession. It was too late, the time ticked over to the 80th minute and the opposition kicked the ball out to end the game.

“Shit” Elena cursed running her hand through her hair “they were so close” 

“What happened?” you asked, not able to take your eyes off of Ari who’s head was hanging low, fists clenched as he rested them on his hips.

“I don’t know”, Elena shrugged, “maybe the throw was mis-timed, or it just slipped through his hands, it's just unfortunate” She sighed “c’mon, we can head down to pitchside to meet them”

“Oh okay” you muttered following after her.

You made your way through the crowds who were trying to make their way out of the stadium. The security recognised Elena and let both of you straight through to pitchside. The players were still walking around the pitch to say thank you to the fans for their support, but you could see how disappointed they all were. 

When they finally started to approach you, you spotted Chris first who smiled softly at Elena before jogging over to hug her. You stepped away from them and looked out to the rest of the players. Ari was at the back of the pack, his gaze set on his feet as he walked. He’d taken off his scrum cap so his hair was loose forming almost a curtain around his face. 

When he finally looked up, your eyes met, he smiled but you could tell it was forced. He was pissed but was trying his hardest to hide it. 

“Hey” you said softly when he reached you. 

“Hey, did you enjoy the match?” he asked, running his hand through his hair to push it out of his face. 

You nodded and smiled up at him, “yeah I did, sorry that you didn’t win” you said sympathetically. 

Ari huffed and shook his head, “it’s my fault, I should have caught the ball”

“Hey no”, you said instinctively reaching out to put your hand on his bicep “no result depends on one moment”

Ari let out a long sigh, “still should have caught it”

You took a deep breath, there was no point trying to convince him otherwise now. It was too soon and too raw for him. You just had to support him until he was ready to look back at it with unbiased eyes. 

“Okay, but you still played really well the rest of the match, I thought you killed the guy when you tackled him so hard” you said running your hand up and down his arm soothingly. 

“Thank you”, he chuckled softly “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself” he said resting his hand on your shoulder. 

You could see he was still really disappointed, so you did the next thing you could think of, “c’mere” you murmured reaching up to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. 

You felt Ari relax as he wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged your back. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and pressed a gentle, barely there kiss to your neck. His hand slipped underneath your jacket, his hand warm against your skin.

He then pulled back with a small frown on his face, “Are you wearing a jersey?” he questioned. 

You nibbled your lower lip, your hands linked together on the nape of his neck, “Elena suggested it, but I didn’t realise it would be so cold,” you said.

“Can I see?” Ari asked, his hand running over the small of your back. 

You nodded and stepped back out of his hold, you unzipped your jacket and took it off to reveal the Bears jersey you were wearing underneath. A more sincere smile grew on his face as he looked down at you, he reached out to put his hand on your shoulder and turn you around.

“My name looks great on you” he murmured. 

You felt your heart pounding and you were so glad you had your back to him right now. Heat was rising to your cheek while also pooling elsewhere. You took a deep and shaky breath to control yourself as Ari turned you back around. His head tilted slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. 

“I really want to kiss you right now” he smirked. 

You took another deep and shaky breath, “okay” you whispered. 

Ari smiled as he rested his hand on your hip and pulled you back towards him. His other hand cupped your cheeks and tilted your head back. He slowly leaned in to the point it was almost torturous but it made it so much better when his lips finally met yours. Just like before you felt yourself melting into his touch, you had to grip hold of his jersey to keep yourself upright. The stadium was still loud but you couldn’t hear any of it, it was like everyone had melted away.

Once again, when he pulled away you found yourself chasing after his lips, Ari smiled down at you and ran his thumb over your jawbone “thank you, it means a lot to me that you came today” he said softly. 

“It was nothing, I enjoyed myself” 

“So you’ll come to more?” he asked with an arched brow. 

You didn’t need to think about it, “of course” you smiled. 

Ari grinned down at you before pulling you into his embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You couldn’t help but smile as you rested your head against his chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat. The rugby world was not your world, but you couldnt help but feel like Ari’s arms felt like home. 

Ari stretched out his shoulders and neck as he stood behind Elena and waited for her to open the door to your old LA apartment. Yesterday's match had been a physical one, but the Bears had come out on top and as a bonus Langley had to go off injured after 3 hard tackles from Chris, Curtis and Ari. 

It was good to get a win following their loss against the Texan Tigers Thanksgiving weekend. Ari had kicked himself for that loss, he should have caught that ball and they would have been guaranteed the win. He had expected to go into his 1-2-1 review and get ripped apart by the coaches for that mistake, but they barely covered it. They pointed out that the ball shifted in direction mid air, caught by a gust of wind, so it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Coach Rogers had also repeated what you said, that he had played really well for the rest of the game. The reason the scoreboard was so tight was because of little errors made by others on the pitch. 

Ari had wanted to go straight to you after that meeting and by some miracle you were working with the media team on some training content that day. Ari couldn’t help himself and walked over to greet you with a kiss on the cheek, he was just so happy to see you, he wanted to tell you that you were right. 

It had meant so much to him that you came to watch him play. He hasn’t had anyone come to watch his games in a long time now. His family would go when the Bears were playing in New York, and before he transferred to the Bears but since then it had been no one. Seeing you in his jersey was the cherry on top, it was a sight he didn’t want to forget and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he pictured you wearing only his jersey, riding him, as he found some release that night. 

“Are you sure he’s out?” Chris asked as Elena put the key you had given her in the lock. 

“Yeah, he goes golfing with his mates on Sundays, he’ll be gone all day” Elena said as she pushed the door open. 

“I kinda wish he was here” Ari murmured as he carried in the bags and boxes they’d brought to pack up your stuff. 

“You and me both”, Elena grumbled as she shut the door behind them “huh”, she frowned, looking around the apartment. 

“What is it?” Chris asked, looking over as he dropped a couple of suitcases by the couch.

“It’s just… this was her place originally and there used to be a lot more of her stuff about, now its mostly his” Elena commented as she looked around. 

“You think he packed it up?” Ari asked, glancing around to see if he could spot a box.

Elena shrugged her shoulders “I don’t know, she usually came to mine when we hung out, maybe it's been this way for a while”

“Regretting not bringing glitter?” Chris asked, looking over his shoulder at Elena with a knowing look. 

Elena pursed her lips as she looked around the apartment, hands on her hips, “a little, but he’d know it was us and I’m not a PR expert”, she said, holding her hands up “but I think that would be a bad move” 

“Right, well let's get to work, our flight leaves this evening” Ari said, clapping his hands together. 

“Okay, I’ll handle her clothes, Chris, if I point it out can you handle her stuff in the bedroom?” Elena asked looking over at Chris who nodded, “good and Ari, I’m trusting you with her books, do not damage a single one because she will kill you, her books are her babies” Elena said with a serious look on her face. 

“Sure, which ones are hers?” Ari asked, pointing to the bookcase in the corner, which was practically overflowing.

“All of them, Dan didn’t read” Elena said before disappearing into the bedroom with Chris. 

Ari turned and walked over the bookcase letting out a low whistle as he took in the sheer amount of books that had been carefully stacked to make the most of the space. He noticed a few shelves were bowing under the weight of the books, with closer inspection he realised that the bookshelf was just a cheap one. That made him frown because if you cared this much about books you should have the best bookcase possible, and as many as you wanted. You shouldn’t have to stuff them all into one, you should have as many bookcases as possible. 

Ari’s fists clenched as he glanced around, there was no space for another because of all the stuff that was clearly not yours. This had been your apartment and your ex had infested it and shoved you into a small corner. He was seriously considering going out and buying some glitter and maybe some sand. He was sure he could come up with the best kind of payback. 

The only thing that stopped him was the fact he knew you wouldn’t like it, so he grabbed a box and got to work. He lined the inside of the box with bubblewrap to provide some extra protection and provide some waterproofing just in case. He then carefully started packing away the books. Any ones that looked like special editions, he wrapped up in bubble wrap too. 

He took his time and did it as carefully as possible, holding each book securely like it was a baby. Once he was done, he looked back at the bookcase to see how damaged and cheap it was, it was a miracle it was still standing. You deserved better than this. 

Once he was done, he popped his head into the bedroom so find Elena and Chris sorting through your clothes, “I’m all done”, he told them. 

“Cool, I found a lot of her stuff stored away in her closet so that makes it easier” Elena said with a sad sigh. 

“Is there anything else? In the kitchen, Ari asked, looking around. 

“Uh, maybe, but I’d have to look, I’ll do that now, can you clear out her bedside table, there might be more books in there?” Elena said as she stood up and brushed her hands over her jeans.

“Sure no problem, the sooner we’re out of here the better” Ari huffed as he grabbed a smaller box and made his way over to your bedside table. 

There were a few knick-knacks including a photo of you and Elena from what appeared to be your college days. Ari couldn’t help but pick it up to take a closer look, your smile was so wide that Ari could almost hear your laughter. A wave of sadness crashed over him because you hadn’t laughed like that with him since that lunch in LA, this was the side of you that had yet to fully emerge and he hated that. He needed to work harder to pull that side back out of you.

He put the photo away in the box along with all the other items that were ontop of your bedside table. He moved onto the drawer and started clearing that out, it was mostly things like hand creams, tablets and packs of tissues. He reached in further to get the last few things at the back and froze when his fingers wrapped around something made of silicone. He glanced over his shoulder to see Chris had his back to him as he continued to pack away your clothes, Elena was still in the kitchen. 

Ari shifted so his frame blocked the view of the bedside table as he pulled out the item and confirmed his suspicions. It was a purple vibrator. He swallowed as he pictured you using it, his jeans suddenly very tight in the crotch area. Elena clearly had no idea you owned this otherwise she wouldn’t have asked Ari to clear our your bedside table. He wasn’t about to announce it either, so he grabbed some bubble wrap and carefully wrapped up the toy so it wasn’t obvious what it was and put it in the box under a few packs of tissues. 

He took a few deep breaths to get himself under control and back to the task in hand but he was thoroughly distracted now. He managed to get through it though and once he was done he was given the perfect out when his phone rang. He looked down to see who it was and knew he needed to answer straight away and this call definitely would get him to stop thinking about you and that purple toy.

“I just need to take this” Ari said standing up and making his way out of the apartment. 

He was on the phone for about 30 minutes or so and by the time he hung up his mind was definitely elsewhere. He stood there for a few moments just looking out at the view to clear his head, taking a few deep breaths, hands in his jean pockets. 

“Hey, we’re ready to go,” Elena called out from the front door. 

Ari turned around to see Chris and Elena holding boxes, “Sure, is this all going on the jet?” he asked as he jogged back over.

“Don’t see why not? There’s not as much as I thought, so there shouldn’t be a weight issue, but I’ve written the address on a couple of boxes that can be shipped if needed”

“Great, well let's get the hell out of this place” Ari nodded, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in the apartment. 

It was Monday evening and you were unpacking everything that Elena, Chris and Ari had packed up for you. Finally, the apartment felt a bit more like yours as you put out all of your belongings. 

You had been shocked and embarrassed when you found your vibrator wrapped up in bubble wrap. You had completely forgotten about it and hadn’t told Elena, you just hoped that it was her that packed up your bedside table and not one of the boys. 

The only thing you hadn’t unpacked was all of your books, they would probably have to stay in the box for a while until you brought a bookcase. You might be able to find a cheap one online because you didn’t really have the money to spare. 

You had just finished putting away your clothes when you heard a knock on your apartment door. You frowned since you hadn’t buzzed anyone into the building, it must be one of your neighbours which was still odd considering you hadn’t really spoken to any of them. 

You hung up the last item before making your way to your door, surprised to find Ari stood there with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Ari? What-what are you doing here?” you stuttered in shock.

“I brought dinner” he said, holding up the plastic bag, “and a couple of bookcases”

“Wh-what” you muttered. 

Ari grinned as he passed you the bag of food before turning to grab the two boxes that were leaning against the wall out of sight “well you have a lot of books and I remembered that you didn’t have a bookcase here so I went out and got you a couple so you could put them away and have space for more” he explained as he carried the boxes in. 

You looked at him in disbelief, “you didn’t have to do that, I was just gonna get a cheap one online” you said as you closed the door, watching as he propped the two boxes up against the far wall. 

“Well now you have two good quality ones that won’t collapse on you” Ari smiled as he walked back over towards you, stopping over a couple inches away “and building can be hard work so I got us food and made sure you got extra fortune cookies”

You looked into the bag and saw he’d gotten Panda Express again, and there were more fortune cookies than you knew what to do with, “Ari” you muttered in disbelief.

“Yes dear?” Ari smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “you really didn’t need to do this,” you told him.

“I wanted to” he said as he took the bag from you and stepped closer, “and I like to do whatever I want” he smirked, you could barely breath as you looked up at him, if you did, your chest would brush against his “shall I serve up?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, Ari smirked down at you before stepping away towards the couch. You took a deep and shaky breath while his back was to you, quickly fanning yourself. You had no idea what was going on, you weren’t out in public so there was no reason for him to be acting this way with you.

“You not hungry?” Ari asked, snapping you from your thoughts, you looked over to see him sitting on the couch with the food spread out on the coffee table.

“Oh no-, I mean yeah- sorry was in my own little world for a moment there” you say, flapping your hand around your head “I’m hungry” you nodded as you moved to sit down next to him.

“Care to share?” Ari grinned as he passed you a pair of chopsticks.

“Huh?” You asked confused.

“What was going on in your own little world?” He asked with a lopsided grin.

You stuttered as you tried to think of what to say because you definitely couldn’t tell him the truth, “nothing of importance, let’s eat, hm” you say digging into your orange chicken to avoid more questions. 

Ari chuckled but didn’t ask you anymore questions, grabbing his food and tucking in himself. Once you were done eating Ari tidied up all of the containers before grabbing the boxes and started unpacking the contents. 

“Should I stick a movie on?” you asked as you moved to put the screws and other small parts into bowls so they wouldn’t get lost.

“Yeah, that would be cool” Ari hummed as he pulled off the sweater he wore to reveal the sleeveless grey top he was wearing that showed off his large biceps. 

You froze as you stared at him, watching as they rippled as he lifted the wooden pieces. Your mind started going down a dirty path as you pictured those arms caging you in. 

“You gonna pick one?” Ari smirked pulling you from your thoughts again. 

“Uh yeah of course, any preference?” you asked as you grabbed the remote from the coffee table.

“Nah you pick” Ari said with a lopsided smile. 

You nodded before turning your attention back to the TV. You had no idea what you wanted to watch, you knew you were probably gonna get distracted, so there was no point sticking on a movie you really wanted to watch. There were plenty of christmas movies streaming now, so you just stuck on of those on. 

“Didn’t take you for a cheesy christmas flick person”, Ari smirked as you put the remote down. 

“Yeah, they’re awful but that kinda make them good” you shrugged as you moved over to help him. 

Ari chuckled, “true, mind holding this?” he asked nodding to the side of the bookcase. 

“Sure” you hummed doing as you were told. 

Over the next hour, you watched and helped Ari build the two bookcases he had brought for you. You wondered how much they cost because they were good quality ones, definitely not cheap at all. They were real wood instead of chipboard. 

When he was done, he helped you reorganise all of your books onto the shelves, “what’s your favourite?” Ari asked as he put some books up on the top shelf for you. 

“That’s like asking me what my favourite child is” you snorted from your spot on the floor, where you grabbing the books from the box.

Ari chuckled and smiled warmly down at you, “okay which do you really really like?” he smirked. 

You sighed and tilted your head to the side as you thought “I really liked this series about cattle ranchers in Alberta” 

“Cattle ranchers?” Ari hummed, arching a brow.

You felt heat rising to your cheeks as you looked down and focused on your job, “it's a romance series”

“Oh” Ari grinned “you like to read romance?”

“Yeah don’t judge me” you said shooting him a look.

“I’m not I think it’s cute” Ari smiled sincerely. 

You smiled bashfully, “do you read much?”

“Not as much as you seem to, but I do read when we’re on the road, we have a lot of free time during away games, especially when we have to travel far” Ari shrugged his shoulders. 

“What genre do you read?” you asked as you passed him a couple of books, trying to ignore the way your fingers tingled when they brushed against his.

“Usually non-fiction, but sometimes a good crime thriller” 

“Wait” you paused “this hasn’t been one elaborate scheme, and you're a serial killer and I’m your next victim?”

Ari let out a loud and warm laugh “shhh, I’m actually trying to recruit you, we can be Bonnie and Clyde” he smirked. 

“I guess I could live with that” you smirked. 

It didn’t take much longer to get your books into their new home, you still had plenty of space for more books which excited you. 

“I found this really cute bookstore the other day” you said as you sat back down on the couch.

“Really? Whereabouts?” Ari asked as he sat down right next to you, his arm slung over the back of the couch. 

“By the harbour, its pretty small but upstairs there’s this cute baywindow that they’ve turned into a reading nook that looked out over the harbour, i’ve gone there a couple times just to get away and disappear into a book for a while” you told him smiling gently to yourself before letting out a small yawn. 

“Cute” Ari smiled “should we watch another movie?” he nodded to the TV, which was showing the credits from the last movie. 

“Sure, you can pick this time” you said with another yawn, tucking your legs up underneath you to get more comfortable. 

Ari smiled as he grabbed the remote, you expected him to stick on a completely different movie but instead he selected the sequel to the cheesy movie you had picked. He relaxed back into the couch, his arm moving from the back of the couch to around you.

You weren’t sure if it was because it had been a long day of work and then building the bookcase with Ari or because of the comforting heat radiating off of him, but you found yourself slowly drifting off. Your head dipped towards his shoulder until eventually, you dozed off curled up in his embrace. 

Ari must have been pretty tired too because he fell asleep with you, right up until the morning when you both woke in each other's arms. Ari sprawled out across the couch, one arm behind his head, the other resting on your back as you lay on top of him, legs tangled together.

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Fake Out Series Masterlist / Boston Bears Masterlist / Masterlist

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[ask-the-royal-absol]

Something had caught Capital's attention. Something was... off about what they had seen.

Unceremoniously, Capital walked up to Destino, giving them a loud pat on the back. "Hello~ 'Nice seeing you again.'" Capital looked at them. Nothing. They smiled, as though trying to containt laughter, as though trying to hide a secret. "'Playing the role' rather well, are we not?"

Without really waiting for a reply, Capital turned to Champ. They pointed at the Magmar, smiling as sweetly as possible. "I heard you two know each other. Where from, if I may ask? I am sure you both have a lot of stories to tell~"

Champ: Of course we have! Mag and I go way back! Isn't that right!

Felix: Hahaha, yep. Absolutely. 100%.

Champ: We were buds in college and have tried to meet with each other when we can. We were also partners back when we used to join the doubles combat tournament. When we combined our moves together, man that was something. Our kids, his youngest and my only one, both go to the same school. Different year groups, mind you. His royal duties have meant we haven't been able to see each other recently. You wife has done the majority of pick up, hasn't she?

Felix: Yep! Definitely! She is quite the someone.

*Felix was really trying his hardest, but imitating a man he'd never met made him feel so incredibly uncomfortable.*

Viridis: It’s my choice whether my leaves come off though. I'm sure these two have a bunch of history and that's good and all but perhaps we should focus on you deciding to purposefully do that. What's your game? What's your goal?

Champ: Do they always do this? Interrupt?

Hope: That's their speciality. They cannot shut up. They clearly enjoy listening to their voice far too much.

Viridis: I can't help that my voice is incredible. Probably the best voice anyone could ever know. It's taken years to get it this deep. This doesn't just come with age you know. Full on practice. Gonna draw the conversation back before I go on about how absolutely perfect it is. You, talk. I didn’t give you permission to assault me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The machamp smiled at the two. What interesting Pokémon he’d been seeing today! Clearly this leafeon had some great influence. Perhaps he’d be able to convince them to work for him.*

Champ: Ah! Some new customers! And one that feels they can handle the heat! Don’t worry my friends, I’m sure I’ll be able to whip something up for you both in no time. I think I know just what the two of you will enjoy.

*Champ wheeled himself through the wooden door and got himself to work. The gang looked towards where he headed. They wanted spice? Champ would give them spice alright. He was pretty skilled in the kitchen, working his magic and making some foods truly delectable. Chillis chopped. Sauces made. Cheese melted. These dishes were going to be something. When he assembled the dishes, he knew they looked good. Sure, there was mention of a tender pallet but he knew the sandwich he made would work wonders for it.

As he brought the food out, he placed them in front of the pair with a confident smile on his face.*

Champ: Here you are my friends! Blast Burn Noodles for you. Now I do have to warn you that these, even for those who enjoy spicy foods, are beyond the spice level many can handle. The peppers selected are some of the hottest you’ll find here in Arkaedia, perhaps even in the world. Just be careful with those, alright? If you need milk to help settle the spice, I can certainly provide that but that spice should be able to open up your taste buds to really experience everything that’s going on in that sauce on the noodles.

Champ: And for you, my Lucky Chant sub. Now you might be thinking, “Why is it called that?” It’s a rather long story but it was a dish that came to me when I was in the middle of working on a move for one of the tournaments I used to join in. Inspiration hit me and this sub was born. Now, I know there was mention of a tender pallet. Don’t worry. There’s only the tiniest hint of spice. This mainly focuses on the flavour of the tomatoes in the sauce in combination with the herbs. There should be nice sweetness that comes with it too. It shouldn’t cause any upset and should leave you feeling satisfied. Hope the two of you enjoy!

@masked-vee

(3/4 - Note these two asks are two separate instances so feel free to reply as such if you wish.)

[pjomakesyourkidsgay]

. . . hazel levesque

˖°𓇼 gf!hazel who usually leaves the date planning to you because you're waaay more familiar with the modern things. gf!hazel who'd decided that, this valentine's day, she was going to make the effort to be the one to plan the date. gf!hazel who sent you a letter, asking you to come by to new rome. gf!hazel who's dresed in comfy clothes that you'd picked out (she's absolutely adorable in sweaters). gf!hazel who brings you to the cafe and orders a coffee. gf!hazel who memorizes every little thing about you, even your morning routine and especially your favorite foods and coffee orders. gf!hazel who's a little bit awkward because she's nervous that you didn't enjoy the simple date as much as she hoped you would. gf!hazel who twitches a lot in her seat so you grab hold of her hand for her to calm down. gf!hazel who's not really big on pda since she's still getting used to the fact that she can but she really really likes holding your hand. gf!hazel who holds your hand so much and for so long that they sort of start molding together. gf!hazel who suggests going to the park but she gets distracted halfway and brings you to the stables instead. gf!hazel who introduces you to arion and is a bit surprised at how gentle he is with you compared to literally anyone else. gf!hazel who teaches you how to ride and control horses so that (she hopes, at least) you can ride together sometime. gf!hazel who then brings you back to her place so you could cuddle on the couch and binge-watch all the classic disney-movies that she'd missed (she only really got to snow white). gf!hazel who likes tiana a lot and you giggle together about your favorite princesses. gf!hazel who's the most chill and relaxed with you and when you're around.

you hold hazel's warm hand in yours, swinging it back and forth as you walk back through new rome to the caldecott tunnel, where your girlfriend was supposed to drop you off.

you wave to the other demigods on the path as well, with them becoming familiar with you as the pretty girlfriend of praetor levesque. call it privilege, but then again it could also be because of your simple kindness and very welcomed calm nature that gets you freebies from the locals.

you thank one of the older veterans for the strawberry shortcake they had given you, now tucking the new item under your arm. you'll surely be enjoying it at midnight - a well deserved and well awaited snack.

but hazel has been quiet since you two had left her place a while back. the air was pretty cool, enough to blow through your hair but not to make you shiver. sensing her slight discomfort, you turn to glance at hazel, still walking side-by-side with her footsteps, to see if she was alright.

she seems to be, if not for the arm not intertwined with yours folded across her chest. that, and the fact that she seems to refuse to look at you. you stop then, forcing her to stop also, and look at her straight on. "what's up with you?"

"nothing's up with me." her reply is too fast, too guarded and vague. her eyes are wide, as if she'd just been caught doing something bad.

"of course something's up with you, you're acting weird." you narrow your eyes. "did i say something earlier?"

you try to think back, try to remember if you'd said anything weird or mean or uncomfortable, perhaps even inappropriate. you don't think so, but now you doubt your own memory.

hazel shakes her head, her mane of curly hair bouncing around as well. she mutters something underneath her breath, squeezing your hand a little tighter.

"what is it?"

she mumbles it again.

"haze, i love you but i kinda can't hear you," you tease. "gramma ears, you know."

when she doesn't laugh or snort or giggle at your stupid joke, you know that she's really not in the mood. you let go of her hand gently, instead cupping her face so that she looks at you. "are you okay?"

you say it so genuinely, with so much concern and affection that the girl almost tears up. she thinks to herself how she probably doesn't deserve you at all, how lucky she is to be alive right now much less to call you hers.

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and further worry, wiping the droplets that do slip out of her eyes. hazel stops you and instead tackles you in a hug, practically squeezing the life out of you.

you hug her back, of course, waiting for her to be the first to pull away. when she does, her eyes are shining with so much adoration for you that your heart does a little backflip. "i'm sorry," she sniffles. "i just realized how much i actually do love you."

another flip. or perhaps it skipped a beat? you don't know anymore. "i love you too, haze, a lot. but there's no need to cry about it." you squeeze her again.

"sorry," she repeats. "i was just worried you didn't like today."

you stared at her. and you stared. and you stared again.

and you felt her growing shy under your gaze so you cut it off. "hazel levesque, you're the most wonderful girlfriend ever and every day is perfect with you, okay? you don't need to worry about that, ever."

"okay." her mood is brighter after, and you continue your walk to the caldecott tunnel.

when you get there, you stand there, again, both unwilling to say goodbye but have to, even though you'd probably see each other again the next day.

you wait for her to make the last move, but when she doesn't, you open your mouth to do so.

before you could let out a single word, however, a pair of soft lips touch briefly against your own. chaste. pure. innocent. barely skimming. exactly just like hazel.

and then she refuses to look at you again, staring at her hands, and that's too bad because she completely missed the huge grin breaking out on your face when she mumbles a "bye!" and runs away, back to her room, back to her duties, and back to her little giggling self.

dividers by: @enchanthings-a and @kodaswrld

[jackaranda-art]

I'm living far away, on the face of the moon I've buried my love to give the world to you

Moondust by Jaymes Young

available as prints! | comms open

[koifoxes]

currently 15 chapters into lotm rn. ik everyone says that i should atleast finish the first vol to know whether i should drop it but it really feels like such a chore to read through the first novel

[random-thot-generator]

Ghost decides after one blind date that you're going to be his.

>>>>>

Simon isn't used to dating. A quick hook up in the loo, sure. A drunken one night stand? He's had too many of those to count. But proper courting? Hell, it's been years, maybe a decade, since he's taken a bird out on an actual date.

It's probably going to be a disaster, but he gave Johnny his word he'd go out with his bird's best friend, so he can't back out now. He'll just have to grit his teeth and power through it.

His sour outlook for the evening is forgotten the second he sees you walk in with Johnny's bird. You're no tipsy tart on the pull, like the birds he's used to dealing with. You're a proper lady, dolled up nice for your date with him. It makes his chest feel tight when he gets a good look at your pretty face and nervous little smile.

His usual gruff manner is obviously not going to fly with you, so he quickly tries to recall the mannerisms he's seen his captain use around women. He gets to his feet with Johnny when the two of you reach the table, trying his best to look less intimidating.

Johnny introduces the two of you, and Simon melts inside when he takes your soft little hand in his for the first time. His brain goes fuzzy, dark eyes glazing over, and he's not sure what he says when he greets you, but it earns him a smile.

"It's really nice to meet you, Simon," are the first words you say to him.

Your voice is soft and sweet, and the way you say his name? Oh, he's gonna need to hear more of that, and often.

For the first time in a long time, Simon's worried about what someone thinks of him. He's worried he'll put you off with his harsh manner. So, he minds his words and gentles his tone. He slows his steps to match your pace and tucks your small hand at his elbow to keep you close and safe. He's holding doors and pulling out your chair. He compliments your dress and hair.

And when your heel catches on the sidewalk and you stumble, he doesn't bark a laugh or say something mean, wouldn't bloody dream of it. No, he catches you before you fall, and all that softness in his hands makes something shift in his brain. You're such a fragile little thing, delicate as spun sugar. You need a big nasty mutt like him to protect you, take care of you, and he's more than willing to do the job.

When the date is over, Simon sees you home, and you kiss him on your front stoop. It's not all groping hands and tangling tongues. It's a gentle press of lips, his big hands cradling your face, the sweet intimacy making his eyes flutter shut. He's floating when he finally gets back in his truck and drives himself home.

Instead of going to bed, Simon begins to formulate a plan of strategy. He figures it'll take a few more dates before you invite him into your flat, and several more after that before you invite him into your bed, then eventually into your life. It might take months, even a year or more. That's alright, though. If his years in the military have taught him anything, it's patience.

Simon knows how to play the long game. He'll go at your pace, let you get used to having him around, then make himself indispensable to you. No one will treat you as good, meet your every need and desire the way he will. He won't stop until he is your world, your reason for being. Your everything.

And when enough time has passed, he'll claim you completely as his. He's going to put a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly, then tuck you away safe and sound in one of those cute country cottages he looked up online. You'll be his little missus, and he'll be your tamed beast, keeping his teeth and claws hidden but at the ready.

By the time he arrives at your flat the next evening for your second date, he's already got your engagement ring in his safe at home and the names of your future children picked out.

And when you text him the day after to invite him for dinner, the new name he replaced yours with pops up on his screen.

It says 'Missus Riley', of course.

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