#but yet they NEED each other. they’re not just reminders of the past

[apollos-boyfriend]

jordan will never be her spark and ianite will never be his ianite, but he is still her captain and she is still his lady. do you understand. they mean the world to each other but they are not each other’s world. there will never be a time where they can look at the other and not think about what they lost, but yet they cannot be separated because they’re all the other has left

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (06)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content fluff, suggestive (sorry...) unresolved tension, a slight panic attack (nothing too serious!), confrontation, lil angst?!?!

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 05 ! 06 ¡ 07

rafecameron

WY@ - brent faiyaz 

liked by sarahcameron, ryanontop and 1,982 others

rafecameron Doing shit I really shouldn't do for real 🤷🏼‍♂️

view all comments 

yourusername nice post g ↳ rafecameron Thanks g ↳ yourusername you're welcome homie 💯 ↳ rafecameron I’m not your homie ↳ yourusername alr bro 😎 ↳ rafecameron 🤐 

yoursername rafe cameron is never beating the slut allegations ↳ rafecameron I'll take that as a compliment thank you! Learned from the best 😊 ↳ yourusername Are you slut shaming me right now ↳ rafecameron WHAT NO I’m just saying like you know ahah Ahaha fuck ↳ yourusername yeah right ↳ popeheyward This is gross by the way ↳ yourusername shut up

sarahcameron put that cigarette down little boy ↳ rafecameron Did bug give you the ‘little boy’ virus… ↳ yourusername it's not a Virus. Embrace it 💜 ↳ rafecameron Okay 💜

sarahcameron you forgot the #aimed ↳ rafecameron Shut up Sarah ↳ yourusername LMAO

yourusername watchu know about brent ⁉️ ↳ rafecameron I love Brent ↳ yourusername hmm 🤔 ↳ rafecameron Are you doubting my music taste right now? ↳ yourusername Yes

ryanontop Shii baby you look fine asl 😍 ↳ rafecameron Stawp! 🙊 ↳ jjmaybanks Awh fawk nah

popeheyward Yooo 🫡 liked by rafecameron

user1 Nah who got my dawg posting song lyrics ☠️

user2 Bro’s pussy whipped

user3 who hurt you bae ❤️

user4 may god bless me with your genes ↳ user3 ?? what ↳ user4 im saying iw ant to have his kids 😊

user5 bismallah my body had a reaction to the third slide ❤️

user6 this is fucking insane go fucking kill yourself you fucking manwhore stop fucking posting shit like this ↳ yourusername this is so real you go user6 ↳ user6 thank you 😇 someone needed to say it ↳ rafecameron Uhhh

user7 i told my parents about us

kelc3eee Fit is hard 🔥 ↳ rafecameron Thanks

It’s been three days since you last kissed Rafe, and yet, you still couldn’t get the thought out of your head, reminiscing over the memory each time you strived to distract your mind from it. 

Waking up the next morning was like a punch to your stomach, your hopes of it being a dream instantly destroyed with the harsh reality of kissing Rafe. You ended up practically locking yourself in your room, too afraid Rafe might say something, address the said kiss and stupid mistake of reaching for his face in the first place. 

To your surprise, Rafe did not bring it up, greeting you with a sheepish grin once you joined them downstairs. It puzzled your brain, as it filled with a million questions over why he didn’t make an effort to bring it up. It was slightly disappointing, even if it was a mistake, he had every right to sort out the situation, pull you to the side and remind you how wrong it was to kiss him, knowing well aware that he was forbidden to the touch. 

But he didn’t, and if he did hint it, you definitely chose to look past it, brushing it off everytime you found yourself alone with him, choosing to avoid the situation and feign ignorance to the way your heart would stupidly flutter.  

Now, three days have passed, and things are, well, they’re normal. Your friends were surfing, while you sunbathed on the shore, not in the mood to get yourself wet. Rafe, of course, never left Ryan’s side, messing around with your brother to get him riled up, knowing how mad he easily got. 

Their giggles echoed through the distance, tugging a faint smile on your lips as you admired from afar, squinting your eyes due to the bright sun beaming through your skin, blocking your vision even with the pair of sunglasses you had on. 

Your arms plopped up against the towel beneath you, supporting your body from giving out, even after maintaining the same position for over a while now. The smile on your lips faltered at the sight of Rafe exiting the water, straightening up when you noticed him strolling in your direction. 

Heat flushed your face as you caught sight of his bare chest, waterdrops running along the sunkissed flesh, leading down to his drenched shorts, as they hung low around his hips. Your throat ran dry when your gaze halted just beneath his bellybutton, the trail of hair leading to under the fabric of his bottoms leaving little to the imagination. It drove you crazy, eager to see where it guides, head wandering with sinful thoughts every time you caught sight of it. 

You cleared your throat, busying yourself with something else, fearing Rafe would catch you practically thirsting over him. The latter however, didn’t say much, dusting the sand off the towel beside yours, before he sprawled himself next to you, crossing his legs to mimic your position. 

“Why aren’t you joining the rest?” Rafe questioned, cutting through the comfortable silence. 

“Not in the mood.” You replied, keeping your answer short, afraid your voice would crack if you further spoke. 

“‘S that so?” He shot back, nudging your foot with his knee. “You’re boring.” 

“Boring?!” You muttered with defense, offended by the remark. “Take that back.” 

“Hmm…” he trailed off, squinting one of his eyes, blinded by the scorching sun. “No.” 

“You’re such an idiot.” You scoffed, stifling out a laugh. “Are you not going back in the water?”

“I am,” he exclaimed, now turned in your direction. “Can I borrow these real quick?”

“Borrow what?–” Your question was cut short, as Rafe’s hand came in view, not giving you a chance to process his action as he snatched the sunglasses off, causing you to yelp with surprise. “What the hell?!”

“Oh, these are nice.” He mumbled, adjusting them around the bridge of his nose. “A bit small, but ‘s fine.” 

“You’re stretching them out!” You gasped, reaching for them back, merely for the boy to dodge your hand, tilting his head down with a mischievous grin smeared all over. “C’mon, Rafe, don’t be like this.” 

“Like what?” He cocked his head to the side, observing you through his now tinted vision. 

“Rafe!!” You cried out, fully sitting up now. “I spent my hard earned money on these, I’ll kill you if they break.”

“Your hard earned money?” He repeated, further teasing you with his comments. 

“Okay, my dad got them for me, but–” you started, growing a bit embarrassed at the admission. 

“I’ll give them back,” he hummed, taking them off and folding them in place. “Only if you join me, though.” 

“I’m not going in the water.” You refused, dismissing his attempt with a nod of disbelief. 

“Why not?!” He cooed, “Come on, it'll be fun.” 

“Are you crazy?” You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “I’m not getting my hair wet.” 

“Please?” He further pleaded, jutting his lips into a pout. “Ryan left, who am I gonna be with, now that he’s gone?”

Your head shifted back to the water, merely to confirm his statement. And true to his words, Ryan was no longer in sight, having probably disappeared back into the house in the short while you and Rafe were arguing. 

“Hang out with the rest.” You shot back, addressing your friends, as they messed around with each other. “They’ll keep you company.” 

“Have you seen them?” Rafe’s face twisted with disgust, his lips forming into a frown. “They’re eating each other’s faces, God knows what they’re doing in that water.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” You replied, disregarding his statement, and looking past the last sentence he muttered. You saw your chance, and took it, contemplating before you snatched the pair of glasses from his hold, muffling your next words with haste. “I’ll kill you next time you steal my stuff.” 

“Is that a yes?” Rafe perked up with excitement, taking your silence as a yes before he shot up, instantly offering you a hand. “Let’s go.” 

“What?” You angled your head back, locking your gaze with his, slightly taken aback by the hand he offered. “I don’t recall agreeing to this…”

“Well, you’re obligated to join me now; don’t give me false hope then back down when I urge you to do it.” He started, his words somehow foreshadowing a deeper meaning to the teasing statement. Rafe bent down, just enough to take his hand in yours before he pulled you up, a screech of surprise rattling out of your throat. 

“Rafe!” You chanted with disbelief, stumbling over your own feet in the process of running, unable to catch up with Rafe, who hurried his way to the water. “Slow down!”

He replied with a chuckle, a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins as the water touched your feet, engulfing your legs with each step you took, halting when it was just above your knees. 

“Wait– fuck, it’s cold.” You started, hands grabbing Rafe’s forearm for support, a mere attempt to stop him. And it did, with the boy pausing to steal a glimpse in your direction. “Let me get used to the water temperature.” 

“You’ll get used to it in no time.” He rolled his eyes, though he slowed down his pace, walking leisurely for you to adjust to the cold. 

Rafe chuckled as a wave came crashing against your bare torso, stiffening in your spot as a shiver ran down your spine, causing goosebumps to break out across your arms. A deep sigh tumbled past your parted lips, finger nails practically digging into Rafe��s arms everytime a wave would hit. 

Your friends greeted you from afar, not questioning the fact that you were alone with Rafe, a big distance separating you from the rest. Deep down, you speculated the fact that they knew, choosing to avoid the topic every time Sarah would ask about Rafe, or whether there was any progress in whatever you had; which you’d dismiss, telling her it was nothing. 

“Can we stop here?” You questioned, when the water barely reached your chin, now standing on your tippy toes to keep yourself steady with the flowing water. 

“Here?” Rafe repeated, brows knitting with confusion. “Why, are you scared?” 

“Slightly, yeah.” You admitted, pursing your lips into a thin line to avoid water from entering your mouth. “This is the deepest I’ve been without a life jacket.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Rafe’s expression coiled with concern. 

You nodded, angling your head up, not risking how rocky the waves get. 

“Don’t worry,” Rafe suddenly spoke, earning your attention when his arm sneaked around your waist, ceasing some of the distance separating you from him. “I got you.” 

“Nope, that’s it, I’m getting out.” You muttered, turning in his arms, in an attempt to walk back out, merely for Rafe to tighten his hold around you, with your back now pressing firmly to his broad chest. 

Your breath caught in your throat, suddenly very aware of his presence, and the mess you got yourself into. For some reason, this felt oddly intimate, despite the boy’s pure intentions, striving to convince you to continue on with him, in spite of you refusing to. 

“I’ll hold you.” His voice dropped barely above a whisper, turning you back around, all while keeping himself steady. “Don’t be scared.”

“But I am scared,” you replied, emphasizing the ‘am’ in the process. “Sure, I know how to swim, but what if you get a cramp, and I try to save you, then both of us drown?” 

“Come on, I’ll be your life jacket.” He grinned, deliberately dragging you deeper into the water. “Are you doubting my skills?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” You uttered, eyes widening when your feet could no longer reach the ground. “My parents will kill you if something happens to me, I swear to god.” 

“Then I’d have to get rid of both of us.” He joked, halting when you were far enough from the shore, stilling you with the arm sturdy around your waist. “How is that? Wanna go deeper?” 

“No!” You quickly shot back, hands flying to his shoulders, holding onto them to keep yourself from sinking. “This is good.” 

“If you say so.” He chuckled, ignoring the way his pulse quickened when your hands made contact with the skin around his shoulders, your nails lightly dragging over the flesh. He rubbed soothing circles to your side, the gesture a mere attempt to ease you up. “Relax, nothing is gonna happen to you.” 

“I’m relaxed.” You lied through your teeth, avoiding Rafe’s gaze, and instead admiring the view surrounding the rocky path leading to the mountains. “It’s so pretty from here.”

“It is.” Rafe mumbled, attention fixed on you. “Super pretty.”

Your lips tugged into a smile at his words, head shifting back in his direction, where he was shamelessly staring at you, not even failing to hide it. You dusted your face with your fingers, flashing Rafe a confused look, as to question why his gaze burned through you. 

“Is there something on my face?” You asked, coming to a halt when he shook his head. “Then what is it?” 

“Nothing,” he stifled out a laugh, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk. “You’re jus’ pretty.” 

“What?” You choked through a breath, growing flustered from the sudden compliment. “What was that for?” 

“What?” Rafe’s tongue darted out, coating his lips with a glossy layer of spit. “I said, you’re pretty. Is that not allowed?” 

“Shut up.” You shoved his shoulder, laughing off your embarrassment, though your ears burned with heat. 

“You know,” Rafe swallowed, admiring your surroundings. “I heard there were sharks in this area.” 

“What? Where?” You shouted, heartbeat quickening as panic settled in. “Don’t fuck with me, Rafe!”

“I thought you liked sharks.” His voice lowered with suspicion, eyebrows arching in a teasing manner. 

“Not as they’re about to fucking eat me.” You replied, fully ceasing the distance as you wrapped your arms around Rafe’s neck, pressing your chest close to his. “Get me out of here.” 

Rafe took your horror as a chance, the hand on your waist trailing up your back, until it settled just beneath your bikini top. “Relax, it was a joke.” 

Your head turned to face him, ready to scold him before you noticed how close he was, nose tulling to brush over yours. A shaky exhale stuttered out of your throat, shivers running down your spine when you caught Rafe’s gaze flickering to your lips, the action so subtle, you would’ve looked past it if he wasn’t mere inches away. 

Rafe’s lips slightly parted, tongue fidgeting with the roof of his mouth, fingers squeezing around your side, striving to hold himself back, and not kiss you right then in there. You were close, a little too close for comfort, he wanted nothing but to fuck the barrier Ryan created for you two, dive in and hope for the best. 

His thoughts were interrupted when you shoved his shoulders, eyebrows furrowing as your lips jut into a pout, one evidently displaying your distress. “That wasn’t funny! Why would you joke about that?!” 

“Chill, I’m messing with you.” Rafe snickered, eyes glued to your face, well aware he’d betray himself if he let his gaze wander past your neck. 

“By telling me I’ll get eaten to death by sharks?!” You huffed, pausing as you angled your head to the side. “Wait– how’d you know I like sharks?”

“I have my ways.” He cooed, pupils dilating with glint. 

“Mhm, yeah right.” You rolled your eyes, figuring it was either Sarah, or your brother. “Let’s head back.” 

“But we just got here!” Rafe protested. 

“I don’t trust you.” You defensively shot back, shuffling around in his hold. 

Rafe chuckled, abiding to your order. He swam back, with you clinging to him for dear life, not daring to risk it and let go. Though, of course, that wasn’t the end, as Rafe suddenly froze, groaning while his face twisted in pain. 

“What’s wrong?” You immediately asked, concern washing over your expression. 

“I think– fuck.” He groaned, arms loosening around your waist. “I think my leg is cramping.”

“Wait what?” You frowned at his statement, eyes widening with shock when his figure disappeared out of sight, suddenly struggling to level himself with you. “Are you serious, oh my god, should I call for help?!” 

You nearly submerged under water when your arms reached for the latter, struggling to drag him up as he sailed down, your hold the only thing keeping him from sinking further into the deep sea. 

Wasn’t it easy to drag weights in the water? So, why was it so difficult to get Rafe to the surface?

“Don’t fucking drown on me, Rafe, please.” You muttered with frustration, heart welling with fear, as your vision blurred, the corner of your eyes brimmed with tears. “Somebody help! Please! It’s an eme–”

Your words cut short when Rafe came in sight, water splashing everywhere with the force of him exiting the water. Your mouth gaped to speak, met with utter silence in return, observing as Rafe chuckled at your reaction, feigning ignorance to your panicked state. 

“Did that get you?” He erupted into a fit of giggles, wiping the water from his eyes. 

“Are you serious?” Your tone washed with disbelief, heartbeat so loud you could hear it thumping through your ears. “Why would you joke about that?”

“Take a joke, it’s not that serious.” He stated, the smile smeared on his lips fading when he noticed how upset you visibly looked. 

“A joke is supposed to be funny, dickhead.” You fluttered your eyes, unable to manage the tears rolling down your face. “What if something actually happened to you?” 

“Wait, are you crying?” His breath hitched as he let realization sink in, chest swelling with discomfort at the consequences of his actions. You weakly punched his torso, fleeing from the touch when Rafe attempted to inch closer to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His hands cupped your face, resting just above the curve of your jaw as his thumb wiped away your tears, now mixed with salt-water. He repeatedly rubbed his finger over your cheeks, striving to calm you down with the subtle gesture. 

“It won’t happen again,” he started, tilting your head with the hands engulfing your face. “I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.” 

“Whatever,” you dismissed his apology, though deep down it softened your heart. “It still wasn’t funny, I was scared you’d actually die.” 

Rafe’s lips twitched into a smile at your statement, unable to contain the laughter bubbling through his chest. You looked absolutely adorable, leaving him speechless as his action spoke for his affection. He moved forward, leveling your head down before he ceased the distance between you two, and capturing your lips in a soft peck that lasted a near of five seconds.  

Your body stiffened at the gesture, so taken aback you almost choked on your own spit in the process. The plush of his lips brushing over yours felt like feathers, as the warmness of his mouth engulfed your skin. It made you yearn for time to stop, enjoy this while it lasted, even if it was for a short moment. 

“There, it’s completely my fault.” He whispered once he pulled back, face mere inches away from yours, you could feel his breath fanning over your nose. “Does that make up for it?” 

Your gaze seeked his blue eyes through the small distance separating you, finger nails lightly grazing over his arms. Silence heaved the air, as the atmosphere filled with unresolved tension you’ve both been avoiding for the past few days, weeks, even. 

Rafe kissed you, and it’s not some stupid joke to get you riled up, or mess around for a reaction out of you. He did it because he wanted to, completely looking over the fact that you were his best friend’s sister, let alone someone he craved in the dimness of the night, somewhere hidden, where no one would judge him for it.  

Rafe has been dying to confront you about the kiss, turning into a giddy mess every time he would reminisce over the memory of your lips softly brushing over the corner of his mouth. And though it was small, barely a peck, it drove him insane. 

That night, Rafe chose to ignore the guilt rising through his chest as he got off to the thought of you; being able to touch you though he knew you were far out of his reach, not for his gaze to admire. His chest burned with forbidden desire, growing aroused every time he caught you in none but your sheer sleeping shorts, covering nothing and leaving little to the imagination. 

“You know,” Rafe muttered through a ragged breath, “About that ni–”

The palm of your hand instantly found Rafe’s mouth, covering it before he could further speak. You knew exactly what he was planning to say, but you weren’t ready. Not right now, still flustered by the kiss he so casually planted to your lips. 

Addressing the kiss from three nights ago in the middle of the water, mind you, in an area secluded from everyone else? Yeah, no. That wasn’t quite what you had in mind, Rafe left you no choice but to shut him out. 

“Hmm?” You hummed, trying to change the topic.

“What?” Rafe muffled, lips barely moving due to your hand covering his mouth.

“We should leave,” you fluttered your eyes at him, “The sun is setting.”

“Right,” he spoke, eyes shifting down to your digits yet engulfing his chin. “You can let go of me now.”

“Oh,” you swiftly retrieved your hand, clearing your throat as you turned around to avoid meeting his gaze. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Rafe scoffed, following in your steps as you struggled to swim back, breaking into a grin when your arms pushed through the water, slightly splashing the latter with the gesture. “Here, let me help you.” 

“I’m good!” You dismissed the suggestion, letting out a sigh of relief when your feet eventually reached the ground, ultimately approaching a safer zone. “I can handle myself.”

Rafe’s giggles seeped through the silence, watching with a glint of amusement as you aimed for the shore, running your way back to the house when you did so. You gave him no chance to confront you about the situation, though the suspense was killing you, it was just not the right time, nor a good place to do it. 

Freaking out felt like an understatement for your emotions, letting out a silent scream as soon as you approached your room. Fuck, this wasn’t the first time you’ve been kissed, so why did it feel like you were in middle school, sneaking around the playground to kiss your crush? 

It was humiliating, to say the least. Rafe kissed you, and it did nothing but make you grow more fond of him, increasing your affection for him. Butterflies seeped through your stomach, unable to suppress the smile forming on your lips, letting yourself go now that you’re alone. 

Your shower filled with giddiness, as you sang along to the lyrics playing in the background, too caught up with the act to realize you’ve spent the majority of the evening in there. You continued getting ready, doing your skincare, and technically everything you would do on an everything-shower day. 

A loud ping caught your attention as your gaze trailed down to your phone, eyebrows knitting with puzzlement when it continued buzzing with notifications. You adjusted the pearl necklace around your neck, fastening your pace when curiosity got the best of you, as you instantly aimed for your phone, heart skipping a beat when you read the contact name of the sender. 

It was from Rafe, multiple messages, at that. 

rafe 👍: Hey

rafe 👍: Come eat

rafe 👍: We got takeout 🥡 

A laugh bubbled out of your throat at the emoji, the invitation silly, yet tempting. 

You: im not hungry! go ahead and eat without me :)

rafe 👍: No

You: boy… wdym no 

rafe 👍: Come down and eat

Your eyes quirked with suspicion, puzzled over why he was insisting despite you refusing. 

You: did you poison my food

You: why are you insisting…

rafe 👍: Damn… I can't even invite you to eat without you making me out to be a dick

You: i mean you are what you eat 😇

rafe 👍:😐 Quit it

You: mb boo

You: is this a date

Rafe’s bubble appeared and disappeared off the screen, the amount of time he took concerning you for a moment. 

rafe 👍: Could be one

rafe 👍: Only if you want it to be

Your fingers hesitantly hovered over the keyboard, staring at the message, as if doing that would make the keen in his statement disappear. You swallowed around your dry throat, setting your phone down, merely to process your emotions. 

A date. 

He can’t say shit like this and expect you not to like him. 

At this point, he was playing with your feelings, and that thought alone had your heart breaking to pieces. It’s only been a month, and yet, you were this infatuated with him. Bearing to cross the line for Rafe spoke to you like no other, breaking the unspoken boundaries you set for each other. 

You don’t know when it started, from lingering gazes turned into subtle touches, eventually oscillated to heated moments smeared with desire. Wanting each other, not being able to do anything about it because it was wrong. It all fuzzed up your brain. 

Rafe was testing you, with each time he threw a hint in your direction. Hell, he should know not to confuse you, as he already went down the rabbit hole of why he couldn't date you, with Ryan warning him every time he’d joke about being into you. 

Enjoying it wouldn't hurt, right? Choosing to push the guilt down and let your heart bloom with joy every time Rafe is around was okay, right? Because it’s human nature, how were you supposed to ignore him when his mere presence was so tempting, making you nothing but crave him more. 

Guilt was temporary, but regretting this? It was going to haunt you forever, tulling you with decisions you hesitated to commit, afraid they would hurt others, fully abandoning how you felt. Those were your emotions, though, your needs, you had every right to take the risk. 

With that, you typed a playful ‘shut up’ back, before heading downstairs, instantly letting puzzlement settle in when you spotted only JJ and Kiara, sitting along with Rafe, who perked up at the sound of your steps.

“Where’s the others?” You questioned, wrapping Kiara in a swift embrace, before you seated yourself next to her. 

“John B and Sarah went out for dinner, and I saw Ryan leave with your dad.” She explained, chewing down the mouthful of food. “I have no idea where Pope and Cleo are, though.” 

“Oh, they said they’re grabbing booze.” JJ stifled out a laugh, eyebrows quirking in a teasing meaning. 

“For what?!” You asked, offering Rafe a tight-lipped smile when he passed you your plate. 

“Shut up, JJ.” Kiara rolled her eyes, fixing her attention back on you. “He’s messing, don’t listen to him.” 

“I’m not lying–” his words cut short when Kiara kicked his knee, the gesture earning a breathy grunt out of the latter. “What was that for?” 

“To keep your mouth shut.” The girl replied, forcing a fake beam across her lips. 

Rafe snorted as they continued bickering throughout the whole time you joined them. He flashed you an apologetic smile, not aware of the chaos awaiting you two. Fortunately, JJ and Kiara excused themselves once they were done, informing you they’d be chilling by the shore for the night, leaving you all alone with Rafe.

The air heaved with tension, the atmosphere filling with unspoken confessions you both oughted to address. Rafe’s been full, using the food as an excuse to enjoy your presence for a little longer. 

“‘You ignorin’ me?” Rafe started, scraping his fork against the veggie pieces splayed on the plate. 

“What?” You shot back, frowning at the sudden assumption. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, it’s just that,” he tilted his head to the side, putting the utensil in his hold down. “You seem uncomfortable.”

“Well, I’m not.” You mimicked, playfully rolling your eyes. “Besides, we don’t even speak for me to ignore you.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” He nodded his head, gaze glued to his arm plopped on the table. “You’d rather kiss me instead.”

“What?” A choked cough barely exits your throat, eyes widening with shock over Rafe’s statement. That caught you off guard, even more when Rafe maintained a blank expression, offering you a glass of water to down the rest of your food. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, “Do you need more water?” 

“Why would you bring that up?” You brushed off his concern, his words echoing over and over in the back of your brain. 

“You kissed me,” he repeated himself, stating the obvious. “Did you not?” 

“I did, but–” you stammered, face flushing with heat. “I didn’t mean to?–”

“You grabbed my face, leaned forward, then proceeded to kiss me.” He muttered, reminiscing back to the memory. “What about that did you not mean?” 

“It was a mistake!” You hurried to respond, stumbling over your own words in the process. “I was drunk, out of my mind–”

“Oh, so it’s a mistake?” He snorted, straightening up in his seat. “You go around kissing people when you’re drunk?” 

“Okay, why are you being a dick?” Your nose scrunched with frustration, exploding in the latter’s face. “And if I do? Then what, you’re gonna do something about it?”

“I’m trying to make sense of the situation here,” he shot back, his arm moving in front of his chest. “I’m not fucking around, okay? I’ve been dying to speak to you, but you never gave me a chance to explain myself.” 

“What’s there to explain, Rafe?” Your voice lowered in tone, taken aback by how fast the conversation took a turn. “I’m like Sarah, huh? Then you go n’ fuckin’ kiss me?”

“Why are you switching the–”

“No, let’s discuss the incident from earlier, since we’re fucking talking.” You cut him off, jaw clenching to prevent yourself from breaking down. “You keep pulling these stunts on me– first in the grocery store, then in the car, and earlier in the water– what is it that you want? You know Ryan won’t be happy if he found out, so why do you keep– why do you keep fucking confusing me, Rafe?” 

“I–” Rafe’s words caught in his throat, hands clenching into fists. 

“Forget it.” You clicked your teeth, grabbing your phone as you stood to your feet, streaking your way past Rafe, with the intentions of reaching the stairs. 

Rafe called out your name, voice breaking with despair. “Where are you going?”

The way your name rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat, letting your eyes force shut as you feigned glancing back, afraid you’d give in if you caught sight of his expression. 

You entered one of the guest bathrooms, locking the door behind you before you immediately dialed Cleo’s number, impatiently clicking your fingers over the phone as you waited for the girl to pick up. 

A sigh of relief escaped your throat when she did, a bit of shuffling going on her end. 

“Hey Cleo,” you muttered through a breath, taking a deep inhale, as your thumb pressed to your bottom lip. “I– sorry, I know you’re out with Pope, I jus’ really needed to talk to someone and I–”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Cleo spoke, interrupting your rambling. “Take a deep breath, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here.” 

“Okay,” you nodded, though she couldn’t see you, obliging to her orders. “Sorry, fuck–”

“Why are you apologizing, girl?” She shot back, attempting to soothe away your worries. “Now slowly, tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“I kind of, uhm…” you trailed off, fidgeting with the ring hugging your finger. “I fucked up, Cleo. I got ahead of myself, and ruined everything.” 

“No you didn’t.” Cleo assured, “What happened? Don’t panic, okay? Everything will be alright.” 

“Alright, I didn’t mean to keep this from you, I thought it would be a fleeing moment, but I guess not?–” You hesitated, nervously biting your lip as you prepared yourself for the confession. “I kissed Rafe, and while it was somewhat, he tried to confront me about it, and I panicked!” 

“Okay, woah, woah.” Cleo uttered, disbelief visible through her tone. “When did that happen?” 

“Three days ago, after the party.” You huffed, angling your head back with a pout. “I’m such an idiot, why am I acting like something happened between us? I lashed out on him and stormed off, what if he regrets it?” 

“Well, you’re the one who kissed him.” Cleo clarified, “Why would he regret it?” 

“Actually– something sort of happened earlier…” you mumbled, clearing your throat. 

“Don’t tell me he fucking kissed you, Bug.” Cleo took a guess, making you freeze in your spot, not denying her suspicions. “He did? What the hell, and you didn’t say anything?” 

“Listen, I barely got time to process it, I was planning on telling you eventually.” A sigh stuttered out of your throat, crying out loud. “I’m so dumb, why did I get mad at him? It’s not even his fault!” 

“Calm down, baby, it will be alright.” Cleo secured, “I’m sure he understands, this is probably bothering him as well.” 

“What if he thinks I’m childish?” You questioned, “I felt so guilty, Cleo, I don’t want his friendship with Ryan to fall apart ‘cause of me.” 

“That won’t happen, trust me.” Cleo advised, her tone soft. “It’s obvious that you’re both attracted to each other, Ryan will have to accept it, he can’t interfere jus’ cause he doesn’t want you dating his friends.” 

“But he’s right,” your shoulders relaxed with disappointment, already imagining the scenery Ryan would put out. “And Rafe doesn’t like me, trust, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he doesn’t.” 

“Ninety-nine?” Cleo cooed, earning a chuckle out of you. “Okay, come on, have you seen him? Pope told me about what happened on the way back, don’t tell me this man is not head over heels for you.” 

“Why’s Pope snitching?!” You scoffed, sniffling as you rolled your eyes. “Okay, maybe he might like me, he keeps dropping hints, but I don’t know?” 

“What hints?” Cleo’s tone glinted with curiosity, waiting for you to further speak. 

“He texted me earlier, and I was messing around but instead of brushing it off he went with the flow?” You explained, your words coming off as a question. “Maybe I’m misreading the situation, but let’s say he did like me, then what? What do we do, will we keep things a secret because of Ryan?” 

“Why are you thinking about that?” Cleo giggled, ridiculed by how much you were overthinking this. “Enjoy it, okay? You like him, go for it, don’t hold back.” 

“And if he doesn’t like me?” You stifled out a laugh, leisurely fluttering your eyes shut. “I don’t know, it started off as a joke, but I’m starting to for real like him, Cleo. I���ve never felt this way about someone before.” 

“Okay, there you go, you got your answer.” Cleo chanted, making you shake your head. “Now, I don’t mean to be nosy, but it’s your fault for mentioning it.” 

“God, what is it?” You rolled your eyes, already expecting what she was about to say.

“What did he say in those messages?” She asked, earning a chuckle out of you, as you moved the phone from your ear, already pulling up Rafe’s contact. 

You screenshotted the conversation, Cleo’s voice muffling through the speakers of your phone, her words fully incoherent. “Hold on, I can’t hear you.

Cleo remained silent, waited while you cropped the screenshot, before bringing the phone back to your ear. “Alright, what did you say?” 

“I said hurry up!” She chimed back. 

“Okay, someone’s curious.” You teased, pressing on the photo icon, before you selected the image and sent it over, waiting for Cleo to receive it. “There.” 

“You sent it?” She asked, humming as she pulled up your messages. “I don’t see anything.” 

“What? But I sen– oh.” you halted as you let realization kick in, immediately reaching for your phone, hoping your suspicions might be wrong. “Fuck, Cleo, I sent it to Rafe.”

An audible gasp escaped Cleo’s lips at the statement, words going unnoticed as Rafe’s text bubble appeared on the screen, not giving you a chance to delete it before he saw it. 

rafe 👍: ???

“Oh my God, he saw it.” You whispered, “Wait, let me go back to my room.” 

You creaked the door open, instantly shutting it when Rafe came in sight, heart thumping loud with panic. Your eyes widened a bit, when footsteps echoed through your ears, knowing the owner behind the noises.  

“He’s heading upstairs,” you informed Cleo in a hushed tone, “What do I do?” 

“Where are you?” She asked.

“I’m in the upstairs bathroom, the one down the hallway.” 

“Okay, wait ‘till he leaves, then go back to your room.” 

You nodded, even if the girl couldn’t see you, too nauseous to comprehend normal words out. Hell, that probably weirded him out, what will he think now? 

However, despite how nervous you grew, Cleo stayed on call, assuring you that it would be alright, even though you knew deep down, it wasn’t. 

“Alright, I’ll go now, it’s quiet,” You sighed, breath shaky with anxiousness. “We’ll talk when you’re back, I’m sorry for taking up your time.” 

“Are you sure?” Cleo questioned with concern, “I can stay on call until we’re back, I don’t mind.” 

“No it’s okay,” you insisted, “Besides, I’m tired, I’ll see about this tomorrow, it’s too much to process right now.” 

“Alright,” Cleo exhaled, “Let me know if you need anything, we’ll be back in a bit.” 

You bid your goodbyes, putting your phone down as you aimed for the door, peaking your head out to check whether the coast was clear. Your shoulders relaxed when Rafe was nowhere in sight, tippy toeing your way back to your room, making sure to be as careful as physically possible. 

Barely escaping the situation, your heart sank to your stomach when you unlatched the doorknob, now greeted with Rafe seated on the edge of your bed, perking up when you made your presence known. 

“What are you doing here?” You mumbled, feeling your throat run dry. 

You wanted the ground to split and swallow you whole, unable to bear the embarrassment of facing Rafe, now a few feet away from you. 

“You know…” He trailed off, getting up with a groan. “I was plannin’ to give you space, talk things out when you’re ready, but…”

Your fingers clutched to the doorknob when Rafe walked in your direction, towering over you and cornering you against the door, as it leisurely closed within each step you took back. 

“God, you’re killing me.” He whispered, gulping as his gaze flickered to your parted lips, coated with a faint layer of spit.

His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, hesitating before pressing his hand to your hip, his hold burning holes through your flesh. Your eyes remained on his face, watching as his expression changed into something serious, stirring up your insides with a rush of adrenaline.

You stiffened under the touch, slightly taken aback by the bold move, even as your body leaned into it, chasing after the sensation of his fingers marking your skin. , 

“You know how much you’re affecting me, don’t you?” He hushed out, digits dragging up your side, and tumbling just beneath the material, his touch welcoming the warmness of your skin. “The amount of times I had to control myself, and respect the boundaries I set with Ryan.” 

“Rafe.” Your tone lowered to match his, an inaudible gasp exiting your parted lips when he pinned you to the door, fingers squeezing the plush of your flesh. “What are you doing?” 

Rafe stuck to answering with his actions, bringing his other hand to your face, and taking the curve of your jaw in between his fingers. His thumb pressed to your chin, using it to angle your head up, striving to study your face up close. 

“You’re breathtaking, you know that?” He whispered, smearing your glossed lips with his thumb, the gesture causing you to part your mouth in a sigh. “God, you know how difficult it was? Telling myself you’re off limits; when you’re all I think about, twenty-four, seven; always on mind.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” You exhaled through your mouth, vision going blurry as Rafe leaned his forehead against yours, his hot breath fanning above the bridge of your nose. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Rafe.” 

“I was barely holding myself back,” He muttered, trailing light, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. “It’s your,” a kiss, “fault,” and another, “for tempting,” he paused, “me.”

That was the only sign you needed as you moved forward, letting your guilt wash with new found desire when you captured Rafe’s lips in an eager kiss you’ve both been dying for.

Rafe’s arms sneaked to your sides, locking you in place as he ceased the distance separating you two, though that felt impossible, as he licked and nipped at your lips, suddenly feeling drunk on your sweetness. 

You tasted amazing, way better than what Rafe had imagined, leaving him craving more as he angled your head to the side, with the intent of deepening the kiss. 

In that moment, you didn’t care whether this was a dream, or reality. In fact, you wanted to wake up the next morning with the same giddiness filling your insides, Rafe being the reason behind it. 

You wanted Rafe, the kiss merely proving the yearn tulling your insides, till you no longer were able to bear it. 

Fuck it, you chose to take the risk, let yourself enjoy this while it lasts, knowing that eventually, you’d need to put an end to it; hence Rafe is off limits.

a/n all support is v much appreciated! pulling my hair out i forgot how to write. SORRY ik i didnt do the kiss justice but i just wanted to get the kiss out of the way... dont get bored of me yet i promise theres so much more to squeeze in the next four chapters theyre just entering their situationship era 🙈 ALSO IK I SAID THERE WILL BE TEXTS BUT I LIED next one 100% though!!! anyways yeah i hope you enjoyed, lmk ur thoughts!!!

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[not-neverland06]

I don't know why I bite

Logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.

You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you. 

You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help. 

You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott. 

You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look. 

But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together. 

“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it. 

You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way. 

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you. 

It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely. 

“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself. 

It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain. 

“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off. 

You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse. 

“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells. 

He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often. 

You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.” 

Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”

Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him. 

“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”

You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong. 

You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”

You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple. 

You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back. 

It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different. 

Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience. 

You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do. 

He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself. 

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything. 

You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home. 

It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you. 

You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry. 

You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy. 

He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag. 

You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.

Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do. 

You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.  

He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?

It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet. 

He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do. 

You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him. 

“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you. 

She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?” 

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”

You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong. 

He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief. 

There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care. 

There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful. 

You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is. 

It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped. 

You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing. 

There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone. 

It feels so wrong. 

It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you. 

Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face. 

He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”

You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”

You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low. 

You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”

“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation. 

This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism. 

You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch. 

You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself. 

You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself. 

It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you. 

They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other. 

Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new. 

You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great. 

A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable. 

You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting. 

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.

He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily. 

“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you. 

He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”

Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging. 

You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut. 

You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you. 

You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair. 

He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets. 

You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other. 

This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore. 

You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone. 

He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on. 

You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy. 

a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡

[nadvs]

home before dark (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, eventual smut, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

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You’ve been looking at your reflection for five minutes now, eyes rimmed red from crying. Muffled, bass-heavy music is echoing from the front of the house.

You’ll do anything to delay going back out there. Even if it means standing still in the bathroom, trying and failing to stop tears.

Parties at Tannyhill always bring in massive crowds, yet your ex-boyfriend still managed to find you in the sea of people. You slipped away and have been hiding since, the anxiety of seeing him again crushing you.

Thankfully, you know your way around the estate. It was once like your second home.

As an only child, you latched onto the Cameron siblings the second you met them. You had just moved to Kildare, your dad having been an old college friend of Ward’s.

You practically grew up with them. You’re still close with Sarah. And even though Wheezie was only four when they lost their mother, she seems to find comfort in you always being around.

But your once best friend, who you’re merely weeks apart from in age, was transformed by the grief. Rafe is a stranger now. And you can tell that he loathes being around you.

When the door is roughly pushed open, the knob slamming against the wall, your heart lurches, overtaken by the sharp fear that Ty has found you.

But it’s Rafe, his hair hanging over his forehead and his nose dripping with blood, shattering your solitude.

He meets your eyes for just a second and looks away as soon as he sees it’s you. Like always. He never makes eye contact with you for very long.

“You’re bleeding,” you say quietly.

“No shit,” he mutters.

He barges past you to the sink, spitting crimson blood onto the porcelain. He’s hunched over the counter, panting, pissed off that you’re still standing there. Still lingering.

You’re always around. A constant reminder.

“Do you need help?” you ask, but you step back, your actions mismatching your words. You put distance between you for his comfort. Not yours.

“No.” His head is in splitting pain. He hasn’t accepted help in years and he’s not starting now.

This is how your conversations with him always go. You extend an olive branch. He snaps it in half.

You were both ten years old when the sweet boy you knew started hating the world and everyone in it. You had a front row seat to the tragedy that broke Rafe Cameron, a mama’s boy who suddenly lost the person he loved most.

But no matter what he does or says to you, you can’t hate Rafe back. After the accident that took his mother’s life, the compassion you harbor for him won’t let you.

While you definitely don’t like the person he’s become, a man so cold and aggressive, you couldn’t hate him if you tried.

You look at your reflections, side by side. You were once kids playing on the beach together, but in the mirror stands a bloodied cokehead next to a tearful mess, living in another summer of seeing each other everywhere and never speaking.

If it were up to you, it wouldn’t be like this. You’d still be friends. But he has his group of buddies who he drinks and smokes with and to him, they’re enough and you’re not.

Rafe looks up from his contorted position, the water rushing out of the faucet loudly. Frustration rises in him when he sees your silhouette in the mirror. He focuses on the edge of the sink, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You’re still here?” he snaps.

You’re used to the disheartening sight of a high and injured Rafe. He snorts lines and brawls at almost every party. Everyone calls him a psycho behind his back.

You want to ask what happened, but you know he’ll brush you off like he always does. You leave the room, determined to escape the party and go home. It’s past midnight anyway.

You’re nearly out the front door when frigid fingers wrap around your forearm. Your blood runs cold as you twist to see Ty, his eyes fixed on you.

“Did you block me?” he asks, the smile that once charmed you now making you sick. You look around at the crowds of partygoers as if someone can save you.

He’s still refusing to accept that you broke up with him a week ago. It was annoying at first. But now, it’s scary. He won’t leave you alone.

He texted you so many times over the last few days, going back and forth between calling you a waste of time and apologizing and begging to see you, that you had to block him.

After a few months together, you realized he wasn’t as nice of a person as he liked to pretend to be. Slowly, who he really is seeped in, unveiling a cruel and controlling brute.

“Of course I did,” you say. “I told you to stop texting me. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Ty scoffs. “It can’t just be over.”

“Yes, it can,” you say, straining out of his grip. You had told him over and over that if he wasn’t going to stop disrespecting you, you’d leave. He kept apologizing, saying every outburst was a one-time thing, just to put you through the same pain again.

“Are you going home?” he asks.

You wish he didn’t know that your parents are on a business trip and will be gone for the next couple of weeks. Regrettably, he’s aware you’ll be sleeping in an empty house for the next while.

“No,” you lie.

“Then let’s get a drink and talk about this,” he says sternly. “Unless you’re with some other guy now and that’s why you tried to break up with me?”

Could that be the only way he’ll leave you alone? You try not to shrink under his gaze, a heartless, eerie abyss. The fact that he says you tried to break up with him tells you he still isn’t accepting that the relationship is over.

“I broke up with you because you treated me like shit,” you say. Your heartbeat is loud and your breaths are shallow and in a split second, you decide to lie as an act of survival. “But yeah, I am with someone else now.”

Rafe turns off the faucet, heart racing from the coke and the adrenaline of winning a fight. It all started because some guy looked at him wrong. That was enough for Rafe to start swinging.

Admittedly, letting out his aggression is a thrill. It’s his comfort zone. When he surrounds himself with chaos, it distracts him from the voices howling in his mind.

Life is nothing but a sick game of tag, and he’s been running away from reality and towards disorder for years.

Rafe’s nose is still throbbing from the only punch the other guy managed to get in when he heads back into the throws of the party.

He’s filling up a solo cup in the dining room when your eyes meet his. He can’t look away this time. You’re rushing towards him, fear written into your features.

Once you hastily close the distance, leaving mere inches between you, Rafe can see you’ve been crying.

“Hey,” you say over the music, overwhelmingly grateful that you finally found him after frantically rippling through the crowds. “Can you help me? Please?”

Maybe it’s because of the desperation in your glossy eyes. Or because you both once knew how to make the other feel better. Or because you chose him to help, when he’s used to never being chosen by anyone for anything. But he decides to hear you out.

“What?” he mutters, hollow blue eyes searching your face. Rafe’s brooding, all cleaned up now, the blood wiped away.

You look over your shoulder, your chest rising and falling at full tilt, then face him again.

“My ex is following me,” you say. “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“What?” Rafe’s mouth is twined in irritation. Of all the guys to use to make your ex jealous, you pick him?

“Rafe, please,” you say hurriedly.

You turn to see Ty, his eyebrows raised in clear surprise. After you talked to him by the front door, you rushed away, feeling his looming presence trailing after you.

You face your ex, standing beside Rafe with your hand curling around his hard bicep, finding unexpected relief in holding him. It’s jarring touching him after years of distance.

Rafe can’t remember the last time he was touched like this. It’s like a reprieve from the rush he’s always in, slowing him down.

Ty shoves his way through groups of people, his face carved with anger.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he shouts over the music, eyes darting between you two. Rafe recognizes him. He’s seen you together at parties and the country club. This guy is just another Kook who gets shit-faced every chance he gets.

“Leave me alone, Ty,” you say.

“You’re with him?” he mutters with a laugh.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, tone shaky, praying Rafe plays along. He catches the brittle waver in your words.

“You can’t be serious,” Ty says. “That was fast.”

He steps forward and you find yourself cowering behind Rafe, who instinctually straightens up.

When Rafe realizes your hand is trembling, something in him twists. You’re not trying to make this guy jealous. You’re afraid of him.

Even after the years of hostility between you, somehow, you uncover a soft spot that Rafe didn’t know he had. He hates that this asshole is scaring you.

“Get out,” Rafe says to your ex, his deep voice sending relief through you.

Ty’s eyes dart to Rafe before his gaze is on you again.

“Really?” he ridicules you. “The guy you always call a psycho?”

Rafe’s arm flexes beneath your hand.

It’s a lie. People talk shit about Rafe, but you have never uttered a bad word about him to anyone.

“I never said that,” you retaliate.

“Just come outside so we can talk,” Ty says, his voice dripping with anger.

“Whose fucking house do you think this is, bitch?” Rafe shouts, roughly shoving Ty’s shoulder. “I told you to get out.”

You see fear on your ex’s face for the first time in your life. Your instincts were right to push you to run to Rafe. Everyone’s afraid of him.

“Chill,” Ty says with a forced smile, palms up in surrender. You’re sure he’s thinking of all the brawls he’s witnessed at these parties. Rafe might get roughed up, but he hardly ever loses a fight.

“Go,” Rafe sneers.

“I - I am,” Ty stammers. He meets your gaze one last time before he flees, his lips thinning in anger. Dread surges through you. You can tell you’re not rid of him.

Awkward tension settles between you and Rafe. He turns to look down at you, eyes flitting to your hand still on his arm. You let go.

Of the entire fervid exchange, what blares in your mind the loudest is Ty’s lie.

“I never said that about you,” you say.

Rafe scoffs. He figures it’s better to be feared, to be seen as a psycho, instead of the loser he knows he is.

“I don’t give a shit,” Rafe mutters, although, for whatever reason, he feels a piece of him caring what you think about him. He shifts to continue filling his cup with beer, pissed off and disoriented.

“He lied,” you tell him, stepping to the side to meet Rafe’s eyes again. You need him to know.

“Got it,” he says carelessly. He dips his head back as he downs his drink.

“Listen, I’m sorry to drag you into this, okay?” you say. “I don’t know what to do. He won’t leave me alone.”

He stills. Talking to you is hard. The fact that you’re still kind to him makes it harder.

But you’re so clearly terrified. Maybe he owes this to you. Everyone else wrote him off, but you, for whatever reason, still treat him with a gentleness he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“If he bothers you again…” Rafe says. He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you don’t need him to. This is his way of telling you he’ll protect you.

You stare at his hardened features. You always felt like you grew up with Rafe from a distance. You know him in snapshots.

The ten-year-old who made small footprints next to yours in the sand. The seventh grader who got into so many fights that rumors of expulsion circulated around school. The high schooler who didn’t care to hide that he was doing lines at every party.

And now, he’s the man towering over you, drugged up, throwing punches every chance he gets, agreeing to pretend to be your boyfriend.

The fact that he’s willing to put on this charade for your safety makes you think that maybe there is a soft part of Rafe left somewhere deep inside. A part of the boy he once was.

“Thank you,” you say. You’re sure he won’t want to carry on the conversation, so you step away before he takes back his offer.

You find Sarah and ask if you can crash in her room tonight, knowing she’ll say yes. The thought of going to your empty house is too daunting.

The next morning, you’re sitting in the large kitchen of the Camerons’ estate, wearing last night’s clothes. You stare out the window, wishing your anxiety didn’t keep you awake last night.

You slept a couple of broken hours next to Sarah, thoughts of your ex and what he might be capable of rushing through your mind.

You’re not sure what to do next. In a normal world, you’d spend your summer partying and having fun with friends and enjoying your lack of a schedule. But things aren’t normal right now.

You’re desperate to shower and get into clean clothes and simply exist in the comfort of your home.

When Rafe sees you sitting in the kitchen, sunlight spilling over the planes of your face, he does something he never saw himself doing again. He approaches you, instead of running away.

Footsteps pull you out of your daze. You meet Rafe’s tired eyes. He doesn’t look away this time and it makes hope bloom in your chest.

He settles on the other side of the table, across from you, tensely raking his hair back. He doesn’t say anything, words trapped in his throat.

“You’re up early,” you say to break the silence.

Last night was one of many sleepovers you’ve had here. Even though you and Rafe don’t speak much, you’ve puttered around the house enough to have noticed his habits, one of them being that he typically wakes up well into the afternoon the day after a party.

But Rafe wants to cut through the bullshit of small talk. He can’t get how scared you looked last night out of his head. And he won’t admit that it’s the reason he wasn’t able to fall back asleep when the brightness of the sun woke him up this morning.

“Did he ever put his hands on you?” he finally asks, voice low. He braces himself for the answer. He doesn’t know how he’ll take it if you were getting hurt while he was always close by, ignoring you.

“No,” you say. The thought sends a chill through you. “He got… mean. And controlling. Or I guess he was always like that, but he hid it at the beginning. Maybe he would’ve eventually started hurting me. I don’t know.”

Rafe clenches his fist beneath the table. It may be hypocritical to be so angry at another man for being cruel to you when all he’s done for years is end every conversation you’ve tried to start with him. But Rafe has never claimed to reasonable.

“And he won’t leave you alone?” he recalls.

You shake your head no. Silence nestles between you, but this time, it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable.

Rafe’s eyes finds yours again, a shade of blue you can’t forget no matter how many times he’s averted his gaze.

“You scared of him?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you admit. The way your voice weakens puts Rafe even more on edge.

“You don’t have to be anymore,” he says. You exhale slowly, enveloped by a sense of security that you haven’t felt in a long time.

“He looked afraid last night,” you tell him. “When you pushed him, I mean. I’ve never seen him look like that.”

At least his anger was put to good use, Rafe thinks. It was actually worth something for once.

“Give me your phone,” he says.

You obey and watch him add himself into your contacts, a harsh reminder of the lack of a presence you have in his life. You don’t even have each other’s numbers. He texts himself your name.

“Call me if he bothers you,” he says. His promise to watch out for you is like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, comforting you.

“Okay. Thank you.”

You realize this is the longest conversation you’ve held with him since before his mother passed. The day you heard the news, you came to this very house to offer your condolences.

You had knocked on Rafe’s closed bedroom door, telling him it was you and not his father, who you’d only seen be cruel to his eldest child.

Through the door, you promised him you’d do whatever he wanted. Cry together. Go down by the water. Talk. Or even just sit in silence. But all a ten-year-old Rafe offered you was a tearful go away, followed by years of avoiding you and brushing you off.

He hands back your phone and stands, walking away from you.

“Rafe?”

He turns to face you again, his hand on the kitchen counter.

“Could you follow me home?” you ask. “My parents are away and he knows it and… I just want to be sure he’s not waiting for me there.”

Rafe nods. You give him a grateful smile. He can’t return it.

Minutes later, his motorcycle roars as he tails your car down the street. Your house is only two blocks away from his. He couldn’t forget the way if he tried.

He visited your home with his family a few times as a kid, but most of your friendship was spent on the private beach behind his house, running around in the sand, your childish laughs tangling together in the salty air.

You used to bike to his house almost every summer day. He’d meet you by your gate, smiling so big his cheeks hurt, racing on your bikes to his house together. He would accompany you on the way back home, too, always making sure you got home before dark.

He realizes he always felt like he needed to watch out for you, even when he was just a scrawny ten-year-old.

Over the school year, you spent every recess together. Kids used to tease you about liking each other and he loved that you didn’t care because it made him feel like maybe you had a crush on him, too.

You two were inseparable. Until you weren’t.

Rafe tries not to think about it. This is exactly why he shut you out. You remind him too much of the last time he was happy. Before life became unbearable and before he was left with the parent who doesn’t love him.

Thinking about those days feels like trying to fall back asleep into a good dream, all while knowing he’ll plummet into a nightmare.

You pull into your driveway after getting through the remote-powered gate, parking right in front of the door. Rafe parks behind you, killing the engine and taking his helmet off.

He watches you step out of your car. You shield your eyes with your hand as you look at him, perched on his motorcycle in the bright morning sun, his helmet in his hands.

“I didn’t see his car on the street,” you say. “But I’m gonna make sure that the security system is armed.”

Rafe follows, stopping a few feet away from you as you unlock the door, on edge and ready to strike if he needs to.

You’re relieved to hear the familiar beeping that confirms the system is active and wasn’t triggered since the last time you were home. Rafe watches you disappear into the house to punch the code in.

“All good,” you say when you step back out through the front door. You face him as he stands on your doorstep, your chin tipped up to gaze at him.

“You said your parents aren’t here?” he asks. He’s frustrated that you’re alone.

“Away for work,” you say with a defeated shrug. You wish you’d broken up with Ty sooner so they’d be close by during all this stress. “Some things never change.”

Rafe looks down and nods. He remembers how often your parents travelled, leaving you with his family or babysitters while they were away.

Birds chirp in the warm air surrounding you. You stare at Rafe now that you have the opportunity to, up close. There are some freckles and beauty spots you remember. Some that you don’t.

He’s strikingly handsome and you wonder if he knows it. If anyone has ever told him.

“Alright,” Rafe says, stepping back, his way of saying goodbye. He doesn’t look at you again as he paces away.

His mother used to have to call you both into the house multiple times to eat lunch when you’d play on the beach together. You’d have so much fun that you didn’t want to do anything to interrupt it.

But these days, Rafe can hardly wait to get away from you. And even though it’s comforting having him watching out for you, having a string tying you to him again, you wish his coldness didn’t still hurt as much as it does.

(part two)

author’s note thank you to @rafedaddy01 for this idea @diorjadore for this idea!!! ILYSM!!!

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[no-144444]

temptations- m.verstappen

Day 11 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: you and max are on break and things get out of hand. Nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?

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You stepped into the villa with one idea in your mind, relax. 

The season had been full of highs and lows, and Max needed to get his mind off racing for a while, and you needed to get your mind off your work. You needed him, to be honest. 

The villa was just on the coast, a beautiful stone dock with a small boat sat at the end of the garden, giving way to the gorgeous views of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Max had done well to find a place on the Amalfi coast on such short notice. Minori was gorgeous at this time of year, and you weren’t letting it go to waste. Your days were filled with good food, good conversation, great wine, fun activities, and good company. As much as you enjoyed spending time with your friends or Max’s friends, you both needed some time with each other. The season had been heretic, and Max had started panicking a few weeks back about whether or not he’d win again. Of course, you’d been there to tell him that it’d be alright either way, and he shouldn’t listen to that awful voice in his head that his father planted at the ripe old age of 4, and, of course, he tried as hard as possible, but he slowly fell further into his spiral over losing. You needed to get him away from it all, just let him be Max, not Max Verstappen, 3 time World Champion. 

The sun slowly set over the ocean as you sat on the patio after another long day of swimming, visiting the local sights, and just enjoying each other's company. “More wine?”

You smiled up at him and nodded. He topped off your glass and sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissed your head. “Thanks baby.”

He took a deep breath, one of relief. You hadn’t seen him so calm in months. It was refreshing to remind both you and him that he wasn’t a racing robot. “I miss the cats.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure Lando is taking good care of them, he sent me some photos earlier and they’re not dead yet, so that’s a plus.” 

He rolled his eyes. “What a high bar,” he replied sarcastically. 

“At least he didn’t lock them in a room,” you teased and he rolled his eyes yet again. 

“It was an accident,” he groaned. 

You pressed your lips to his in an unspoken apology.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips. “So fucking perfect.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you chuckled. “I love it here.”

“We should buy a place here,” he thought out loud. “Regular vacation spot?”

You nodded. “It’d be nice.” 

Suddenly, his phone started ringing, Lando. “I’d better take this.” 

You nodded, letting go of him. You thought over the past few days. From the dreamy mornings to the blissful nights, there was one thing you two hadn’t done yet, that you just had to do. On your 3rd date, over 4 years ago, he made an off-handed comment about the fact that he ‘would never go skinny-dipping’. 

Yeah, you were changing that tonight.

You quickly pulled off your dress, your panties and bra, and waited in the warm Italian air for Max to be done speaking with Lando. 

When he came back out, it was safe to say he was shocked. “Are you becoming a nudist?” 

You burst out laughing, taking his hand. “No! We’re going skinny-dipping.”

He shook his head. “Why would we do that? If you want to go swimming i can get your suit-”

“You can’t fuck me through the suit, can you?”

Again, too stunned to speak. 

“Come on Max! You’re 27 and you’ve never skinny-dipped? That’s ridiculous!”

You slowly watched him become motivated (aka, your tits were in his face), and he smirked, pulling off his top. “This is so stupid,” he commented before pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You two walked down to the pier, Max shredding clothes as you went and stealing kisses. You both jumped in, the water a comfortable temperature over both of you. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Are you?”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, kissing you hungrily. He pushed you up against the stairs kissing down your neck as you both let the world fall away. All you were thinking about was his lips on your skin and the heat in your core.

He ran a finger through your heat, smirking. “Wet already?” 

“We’re in the ocean,” you smirked, he shook his head. 

“You’re impossible.”

“You love it-”

A camera click. A motherfucking camera click. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Instinctively you both rushed to cover yourselves. This was private property, private land, and you could sue them for posting those pictures. But they’d still be on the internet. For anyone to see. It was you who they could see, Max had his back to the camera. 

Your career was over. Your family would disown you. Your life would be over. Shit. 

Max reached over, grabbing a towel you’d left out to dry on the stairs and wrapped it around you and you quickly ran inside, rushing to shower and get into pyjamas. You loved Max, you loved his passion for the sport, but god did you hate the attention it gathered. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms as you sat in bed. “We’ll deal with it.” 

You let out a pathetic chuckle. “Easy for you to say, it’s not your tits that will be sprawled all over the papers tomorrow.”

“They aren’t mine, no. But they are my girlfriend’s.” 

You nodded, he had a point. “Fair.”

He brushed a hand through your hair. “Whatever happens, we can handle it, yeah?”

You nodded. Maybe it would be alright.

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yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen, and 6,873,939 others

yourusername: god forbid a girl has hobbies tmz.

comments

landonorris: didn't realise being fucked in public was a hobby? -> yourusername: IT WASN'T PUBLIC WE WERE IN OUR PRIVATE VILLA

user55: oh she's serving CUNT

user22: not her hitting back, slay.

oscarpiastri: I fear this may be an original experience. -> maxverstappen: thanks for pointing out the obvious osc 👍

charlesleclerc: Never needed to see those pics 👍 -> yourusername: bro is SO jealous right now. -> user43: ????? -> yourusername: I HAVE MAX AND U DON'T HA HA -> user43: OHHHHH

georgerussell: Do we go to the FIA about this? -> maxverstappen: what can they do? give her a penalty for showing off her tits? -> yourusername: my GORGEOUS tits* -> landonorris: buddy is in the dog house.

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[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.

A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)

Part 2

You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.

The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory. 

You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus. 

And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…? 

This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you. 

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.

And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.

While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.

And they're more than enough.

Or at least they should be…

You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way. 

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”

“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.

Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.

“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”

“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…” 

You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”

“...Why not?”

You look at König; he looks straight back.

The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips. 

“I can help,” he grins.

Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home. 

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts. 

You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night. 

…

You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.

You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.

They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.

You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.

You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

It’s not a date, you remind yourself.

It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.

And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…

Can a man of his size even keep quiet?

He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8. 

You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.

“Kätzchen...”

“König…?”

You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on. 

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".

But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…

Could a grown man get any more silly?

You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it. 

SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.

“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.

“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”

You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens. 

“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”

“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”

“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?” 

You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.

“You’re crazy, did you know that...?” 

“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.” 

“...What’s that?” 

His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.

“You’re cute.”

…

The whole evening is heavenly. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.

He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one. 

He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.

König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through. 

You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.

“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?” 

He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.

“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...

“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh. 

“Why not?” 

His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.

You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.

“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”

“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...

“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”

Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.

And he does want to.

You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.

It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.

You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…

“This is–”

“Inappropriate?”

His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.

The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back. 

It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.

He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.

God… This is better than God…

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.

You can still turn back if you turn back now…

You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”

He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it. 

You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”

You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.

“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.

“It was a good dream while it lasted...”

…

The rose withers in your cell.

You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him. 

There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him. 

In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.

God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.

“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world. 

“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.

You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.

The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.

“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?” 

“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap. 

Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being. 

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you. 

The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.

“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”

…

Work, time and prayer do ease the pain. 

They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.

You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one. 

You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.

Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.

And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…

“Kätzchen.” 

A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.

You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves. 

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.

“Dear God… What happened to you?”

You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground. 

He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?

“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.

“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”

“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”

His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance. 

König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe. 

And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need. 

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place. 

It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one. 

When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”

The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.

“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.” 

You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.

You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.

“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.

“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”

The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.

You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt. 

You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.

You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.

The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.

“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants. 

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size. 

To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood. 

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”

He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.

“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back. 

Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured… 

...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.

“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.

“Someone, who?”

“Someone to hold hands with.”

He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”

You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.

“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”

Ouch.

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.

There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”

Your heart skips a beat. 

He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose…. 

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart. 

“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.

“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”

You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.

God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.

He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.

There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.

You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.

“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.

“No I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are.”

A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.

You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.

“Are you crying?”

His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.

He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead. 

“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.” 

You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.

“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.

“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.

In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…

The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.

“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”

[sordidmusings]

mihawk strikes me as the type to hide any hickies that he got but admire them in private, shanks would shamelessly show them off in public, while robin is more casual and doesn't get embarrassed if someone points it out and says point blank that she made out with you and it was very nice (sanji is crying).

YOURE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Also that ending is sENDING ME DJFJFJFJFFK if you’re afab then Sanji would definitely be stuck struggling if those were tears of joy for knowing it happened or tears of pain that he’ll never be a part of it. Probably more of the latter. If you’re amab then those are 100% grade A, bonafide Tears of Despair 💀

Mihawk, Shanks, and Robin Hickey Headcanons

Thinking about the Mihawk, you’d have to be Smart about where you put those hickies (thighs thighs thighs-) since he’s always Tits Out and Collar POPPED. I think if he showed up with a fully buttoned shirt or turtleneck it would be more suspicious than him saying the bruises were from training 💀 (I mean maybe it was true - you could’ve been training him to let you fully take charge for once 🤷🏼‍♀️). The thought of him admiring them is what really grabs me in this. I like to think the betrayal that Oda hints at in Mihawk’s background is related to a past love (many good daydreams from this lol) so him healing enough from that to take the time to admire a mark of intimacy?? Feel satisfaction looking at a physical reminder that you belong to each other?? Find comfort in being your partner and enjoying being wanted and owned by you??? Happy brain 🫠🫠🫠

Shanks being the resident manwhore is Gospel dude and I fuckin LOVE him for that 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 here for the energy and the good times lol I imagine that he just showed them first cuz he didn’t care to hide them. Why would it matter?? It’s obvious he’s a man with a large appetite for debauchery both light and heavy and they’re all adults on the ship so there’s no problem. Then he found he enjoyed all the jokes, whether in his favor or at his expense, whenever his crew caught a peep of an exceptionally dark or large one or an excessive art project coloring his neck and chest. But once he got with you he enjoyed it even more. He was proud edging on smug whenever others saw the marks you’ve left on him. He got to have you and they didn’t. Better yet they also got to see just how much you enjoy him. Why would he ever hide that??

R O B I N 😩 I HAVE A NEED OKOK AND OML I WAS CACKLING AT THE “and it was very nice” HDHFHFJD SO HER AND SO FUNNY 💀💀💀 imagine that conversation being how the crew finds out you’re together. They just thought you were Close Friends. And I mean they’re not wrong, there’s just some extra activities. And maybe a new type of devotion to go along with the friend one. Whoopsies 🤷🏼‍♀️. Honestly maybe even extra points if it’s also the convo where you get together because the making out just kind of Happened and you’ve been agonizing over the “what does it mEAN???” and “how do I talk to her about this???” Then she’s just like “yeah we kissed and it was great :)”. Oh so this isn’t a big secret?? She’s not ashamed?? It was great 👀 over the howls of Sanji you manage to ask her to meet with you after breakfast for a convo (and more time enjoying some “very nice” activities)

Complete side note on Robin - since sensation but not wounds seem to transfer from her copies and extra limbs/etc. that would be insanely convenient to go buck wild while also being able to be completely discrete. Of course you don’t get the same advantage 😔 which I’m sure she’d exploit to have fun watching you react to them being pointed out by the loud mouthed captain like every time (“Luffy I tOLD you already - we weren’t leaving you out of sparring!”) or maybe a nosy navigator heheheh

And on an angstier note, having gone so so so long without love, I bet physical reminders of any kind help her feel like it’s real and that’s she’s not just going to wake up and find out it was all a dream. There’s also a promise in visible proofs of love, sometimes even ones as ~scandalous~ as hickies, that you want that love and you’re proud of that love. I think Robin would find a lot of solace in anything that helps her know you’re happy and proud to love her.

Really enjoying these and may do some little vignettes of them! Undecided if I wanna throw some others in there 🤔 maybe if any Grabs Me while I think more about it haha or if anyone is possibly interested 🤷🏼‍♀️

Thank you for sending in your thoughts dear anon❣️I’ve had so much fun with them!!!! Sending love and hugs 🤍🤍🤍

Part of my little celebration!

[emchante]

when the silence breaks

part 1 | masterlist | requesting rules

summary: after a painful night at the club, the days that followed are filled with silence and heartache. that is, until a late-night knock at your door comes from a drenched and regretful yet determined max verstappen.

NOTE: no warnings are really needed, all you need to know is this is a part 2, and it’s just angst with a happy ending/ hurt+comfort.

w.c: 2.1k

a/n: part 2 to the max angst, this was written for the lovely @inevesgf again of course; but there was a few requests for a part 2 from you guys so here it is! i hope you all enjoy the ending, and let me know your thoughts on this via reblog, comments or asks! reminder that requests are open if you guys have any ideas.

it’s been a few days since the incident at the club, and the emotional toll has weighed on you heavily. every time your phone buzzes, you always look over in hope that one of the notifications are from max, but it’s never him.

the silence was deafening.

you’ve spent the past few days in a haze, constantly replaying the night at the club in your head, each time you remember what was said you feel a shot through your chest, negative emotions overtaking you.

tonight you’re having a night in, blanket wrapped around your shoulders on the sofa as you try to distract yourself with one of your favourite films. it doesn’t do much to help though, because it doesn’t take long for memories of max to come flooding in; it was his favourite movie too.

you end up barely paying attention, the tv merely acting as a background light. the sounds of rain battering against the window only adds to the melancholy atmosphere.

you realised you were gaining nothing from this, so you’re about to give up on the film when a sudden knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts. with furrowed brows you glance over to the clock, which lets you know it’s just past eleven. you debate in your mind if it’s worth even answering— who knocks on someone’s door at this time of night?

but against your better judgement, you hesitantly make your way to the front door. your heart is pounding, anxiety running through your body as your hand shakily reaches for the handle. looking around, you realise you have nothing to protect yourself with, should this be a scary encounter.

you were ready to be met with horrors at the other side of the door, but you weren’t expecting to be met with the sight of a soaked max verstappen. he’s drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead from the rain, and his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. despite his disheveled appearance, there’s a mix of determination and regret in his eyes.

you hadn’t even noticed the bunch of flowers he was holding until he shuffled them in his hands, and only then did they catch your eye. your eyes widened in shock, seeing that he had bought you your favourite flowers. “i know they’re a little.. worse for wear,” he awkwardly coughed out, holding them out for you.

you took them from his grasp, muttering a thank you as you held them to your chest. your eyes fitted over max again, watching as he anxiously moved from balancing his weight on one foot to another.

for a moment, neither of you speaks another word. the silence is thick, and there’s words on the tip of both your tongues, but you don’t dare speak first, and it seems like he doesn’t either.

the intensity of his gaze is what’s keeping you grounded, not letting your thoughts get the better of you. you can’t seem to break eye contact with him, and it seems like an eternity before your body finally moves; and you signal for him to come inside as you step to the side.

max nods at you, taking one step inside before he turns his head turns to look at you. his presence is overwhelming, your back against the wall as you continue to stare up at him. you gulp at the proximity, letting out a shaky breath before you tell him to head into the living room.

your words break him out of whatever trance he was in, and he lets out a low hum as he follows your instructions. you close the front door as he walks away, letting out a deep sigh before turning around, walking into the living room as you try to calm your nerves down.

you’re stood at the doorframe of the living room, leaning against it as you wait for him to take a seat on the sofa. but it never happens, max simply doing a 180 to face you. the tension is palpable, the air thick with unresolved emotions.

it’s silent for a few moments before max is the first one to speak up. “i’m sorry,” is all he manages to get out, his voice low yet hoarse. it’s only now that he’s inside and out of the rain you can actually see it— he’s been crying. it the hoarse voice wasn’t a giveaway, his eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed— and it was obvious it wasn’t just raindrops rolling down his cheeks.

you sigh, shaking your head at him. “max, you don’t need to apologise, it’s my fault we’re in this mess,” you told him, eyes trained on the wooden flooring beneath your feet. swallowing hard, you felt tears stinging at the back of your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. a sad smile paints itself upon your lips as you finally meet eye contact with him again. “you don’t have to feel the same way, max. i shouldn’t have said anything about my feelings that night, especially when i was far from sober.”

max’s eyes widen in surprise, your response far different from what he was expecting. it takes a couple of moments before his brain finally connects the dots; that you’re under the impression he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. panic flashes across his features as he quickly shakes his head at you. “no, no, that’s not what i meant,” he begins to explain himself, stepping closer to where you are in the doorframe. “i didn’t come to tell you that i don’t love you.”

your gaze is casted upon the floor again, not having it in yourself to look at him. your heart aches as you try to keep your composure, “max, really— it’s fine,” you insist, despite the tremble in your voice. “i don’t need you to reassure me you love me in a different way, i know it’s platonic.” you tell him, eyes closing when you see his feet fall into your eyesight.

max feels a wave of desperation wash over him as he hears how hurt you are, the defeat evident in your voice. he reaches out, gently grabbing onto your forearm as he pulls at it, uncrossing your folded arms. he gives your arm a squeeze and instinctively you look up at him. you can see the distress in his eyes, his confidence he has every other day is non-existent at this moment in time.

you go to take your arm back, but max’s grip is firm, a contrast to the soft “stop” he let’s out in return. the desperation in his voice captivates you, and you find yourself listening to him, and what he has to say.

just a moment ago you could see the distress in his eyes, but now— now, they were clouded with too many emotions to read, especially in your current state. the seconds feel like hours, the silence between you both almost suffocating. you want to stand your ground, tell him to let you go, let him know he doesn’t need to say what you already know— but the words are stuck in your throat, tangled with the fear you’re feeling.

max opens his mouth before shutting it again, his jaw clenched as he tries to make sense of his thoughts and he wants to say. “i… i need you to listen to me,” he finally says, his own voice trembling. he lets go of your arm, and instead of stepping back, he takes another step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

your heart races as you look up at him, the space between you both slowly becoming non-existent, aswell as the fierce eye contact felt like it was going to kill you. “max.. if you’re going to say you don’t feel the same, you don’t have to—“

“that’s not it!” he lets out desperately, shaking his head sharply as he interrupts you. he runs a hand through his damp hair, his frustration evident. he’s never been the best with his words, never the type to open up to you about feelings such as infatuation or love, his emotions were always a touchy topic. you can tell he’s wrestling with his thoughts, trying to get the truth out to you.

“i was scared,” he admits, his voice rough with emotion. “i’ve been scared of messing this up, of losing you, and that fear—“ he stops himself for a moment, inhaling deeply and tries to gather himself. “that fear made me push you away, and i shut myself off. and i regret it, i regret it so much, because it gave off the impression i didn’t care, or that i didn’t feel the same.”

your breath hitches, your heart rate quickening as you process what he just told you. the pounding in your ears from your heartbeat was almost too much to bare, but you pushed through because you needed to know what he was going to say. “then why..?” you trail off shakily, allowing max to explain himself.

max met your gaze again, and this time the emotions in his eyes were clear and unmistakable, and it caused a deep warmth to heat up your cheeks. “because i do love you,” he confesses so quietly, you wondered if you made it up until you continues to talk, “and that terrified me. it still does to an extent. but the thought of losing you is so much worse.”

your breath catches in your throat as you take in everything he said, allowing max’s words to sink in. you’ve spent so long hoping and dreaming for this moment, in so many different scenarios— but never did you imagine this specific one.

“i love you,” he repeats, his voice still quiet, scared as if the words are going to do more damage than he had caused previously.

you know you heard him right when he repeated it, and it didn’t do anything to slower your heartbeat, rather it made it pound even harder. without thinking, you move a little closer, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, searching for the tiniest bit of proof to help you realise this is all real, and not some sick dream. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and that simple feeling sends a rush through your veins.

“max,” you whisper, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer, like a question, like a thousand emotions wrapped up in one word.

max doesn’t wait any longer. in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his hands finding your waist and pulling you against him. there’s a brief moment where both of you hesitate, breath mingling in the tiny space between you, eyes locked onto one another for confirmation.

then, with a soft, almost desperate sound, his lips crash onto yours. the kiss is everything, months of pent-up emotion, of hope, longing and — especially the past few nights — fear, all rolled into one. it’s messy, passionate and perfect in its on way. his hands don’t stop moving, going from gripping your waist, tangling in your hair to then cradling your face, like he’s afraid you might disappear once his touch leaves you.

you kiss him back just as fiercely, pouring everything you’ve felt— every ounce of love, every moment of doubt, every fear of rejection— into that kiss. the world around you fades; the only thing that exists at this very moment is max. the feeling of him, the taste of him and the overwhelming relief of finally, finally having him close.

you finally pull apart from one another, gasping for air as your foreheads rest against each other, the both of you breathing heavily. his hands move back to their position on your waist, thumbs circling your sides as if he’s trying to ground himself in the moment.

“god, i’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips.

a small smile tugs at your lips as you nod against him, your voice still shaky, “me too,” you admit, just as breathless.

for a moment neither of you say anything else. you just stand there, holding each other, basking in the warmth of the moment. it’s not the picture perfect confession you’d imagined, but it’s real, and that’s all that mattered.

max finally pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes. “i’m sorry,” he whispers softly, his hand moving to your cheek as his thumb strokes it. “for everything. especially for how i acted at the club.”

you shake your head, your heart swelling with many emotions— love, relief and forgiveness, to name a few. “it’s okay,” you mutter back breathlessly, leaning to place a soft kiss against his lips, sealing your words with the simple act. “we’ll figure stuff out, and we’ll work on it.”

and with that, the night ends not with the bitter taste of regret, but with sweet promise of something new, something real and something worth fighting for.

[hai7ani]

hihihi, hru?? hope ure doing good:3

i think i literally asked for a rindou hc recently but i seriously need a ran one where he’s like divorced for any reason that you want and he tries to get closer or to talk to his ex through their kid or appear at kindergarten when they’re picking the child from there or just try to talk to them when he goes to pick the kid for weekends or whatever, I JUST NEED IT 😭😭

take your time btw, don’t want you to get yourself busy with this when you have better things to do jahsjjajd:33

i.

Ran thinks it's cruel that your smile still haunts him awake at night.

It's one of the meanest things you can do to an ex after a nasty separation, he thinks 一 having a smile so warm and beautiful that you only show to a loved one (him, used to be), and the image still sticks so freshly on the inner walls of their head years after you divorce and aren't on speaking terms as much.

You can't go a minute speaking to him without choking on your words. You're always awkward with him when handing off your daughter for his night, but he still tries to make you feel comfortable around him again by cracking a joke or two that would've always made you laugh. You don't anymore and you haven't done it in a while, yet he still tries. And he continues with it as soon as he spots the small crack in your facade when one corner of your lips starts lifting against your will and you're quickly looking away to scratch at your elbow.

It's terrible how suffocating he feels currently. He isn't used to being like this.

Ran finds himself thinking way too much of you lately.

He often keeps his head awake at night to the thought of you and what the two of you were, and he has to keep reminding himself that he shouldn't be doing this anymore. Especially not now when you've got another man who isn't him sending you home after work and you're throwing the same sweetish, syrupy smile his way when you get off his car in a little bounce and you're holding onto his door to fix your heels.

It's been years since your separation. You're no longer the woman who'd put up with things just to have peace in the house, and he's no longer the man who'd put off things just to have some peace to himself. Your daughter is a big girl now and she's starting to understand things without anyone saying it outrightly to her. He hears a lot about you from her observations at home and he likes that you've started working on the things you've always wanted to do but didn't have time for because you were so preoccupied with taking care of everyone's needs.

Things have changed a lot since then. Improvements were made and they were done with quick effort 一 it's one of the things people start doing when they let something go and realise just how much they have been missing, or lacking.

And you're no longer together to witness that growth in each other.

But Haitani Ran has never been one to dwell on the past and think too much on what could've been 一 he fixes his issues and he does it really well. It's one of the things you've always liked about him.

If trying again isn't an option, he should at least see you. By tonight. He has to see you now. He wants to see you now.

He throws on a jacket and he grabs his keys to go.

Ran always lives in the present.

ii.

You have a lousy, too-big-for-your-face sheet mask on when he rings your bell. He almost laughs at how ridiculous you look paired with the frog pyjama pants you always like wearing to sleep, but you look so cozy, and a famous tear-jerking K-Drama is playing on your TV screen in the back. He decides he'll not poke the bear tonight.

"Arisa's already asleep." You tell him when he's on his way to go knock on her door and you're pouring him a glass of water. "That's fine."

But he's quick with it this time 一 no more than fifteen seconds with his daughter that he only sees three times a week and he's back out in the living room again with you.

"Hi sweetie. Daddy's gonna go win your mama back tonight, alright? Give me a minute, I'll be back."

He has more important matters at hand right now.

"How's the show?" He downs the cup in one go. His throat had been dry the entire ride to your place. Mind flooded with words he's unsure whether or not to say, but keeps as an option for later. He wants to see you way more.

You shrug and start peeling off your mask. "It's fine. A bit boring. Not as great as what they say." You rub on your face and go wash your hands in the sink.

As always, you're curt with him. You leave no room to continue a conversation. He doesn't blame you for it, though. He wasn't always there to listen.

"Listen, uh," he begins, fiddling with the cup, "can we talk?"

You eye the clock and shake your head. "No, it's getting late and I have to sleep. You should go too, now that you've seen Arisa一"

"一I came to see you." It's suffocating, the sudden silence in the house. And he realises swiftly it's back to square one again with the atmosphere around you both. You're creasing your brows and it's not looking nice.

"Honey, not that again一" You sweep your hair back out of frustration when you remember. "Sorry, I keep calling you that."

"Can we just talk, please? I need to talk to you." His eyes plead. His heart aches.

It's evil what the remnants of love can still do to two people who aren't together anymore.

iii.

"Risa's told me lots, you know一"

You light the cigarette hung between your lips and inhale.

"About you." He finishes his sentence.

"About what?"

In such a small space on the bench of your balcony you still manage to seat yourself as far away as you can from him, and you've got one leg on top of it. Back then his mother would've pointed out how rude it was to sit like this around your husband, but she's not here with you at your house, and you just want to get all of this done with.

He can tell.

But he thinks it's nice that he still managed to convince you to come out here and have a smoke together in the cold like the risqué couple you were back then. He wants to salvage this moment for as much as he can.

"Well, she told me you started doing cross stitch again."

You let out a breath through your nose. "Yeah, finally found the time, I guess. She keeps asking me to use the pink threads, but I don't know what else to stitch other than flowers and bows."

Your voice is a lot deeper than usual now that you've got a cigarette in your mouth and you no longer look as put together like you always do in front to him. Your hair is clipped in a messy bun and your pants are folded at the waist.

He's still charming as ever, though, and it pisses you off.

"And she told me you've been crying a lot lately."

Great way to piss you off even more. He looks at you when he says it and you don't like it from him at all.

Your chest is burning when he leans back in his seat. "Is it because of that twat? The one always driving around in that lame, old Mercedes? He's been making you cry?"

What a fucking guy.

You puff out the smoke and scoff. "I guess you still don't know me well enough then."

"Then tell me. What's going on?"

You click your tongue, agitated. Perhaps it's the nicotine that's keeping you on edge right now, and he notices you're a lot more straightforward with him this time.

He wants to talk? You'll give him just what he wants.

"I just don't get how you always make things look so fucking easy."

"What's easy?"

You shake your head, thinking. You throw the cigarette in the ash tray angrily and groan.

"I don't know! Moving on?"

You shoot daggers right into his eyes. "It's always so goddamn easy with you. Not even a year after we divorce and you've already got a girl on your arm. How the fuck did you do it? Was I so invisible to you in our marriage that all it took was just a year, or less, to go date someone else? And get so touchy with her? Did I not live in your heart at all?"

"What the fuck? What girl?"

You give him a big laugh 一 a fake one. "You're such an asshole."

"There hasn't been any fucking girl after you. I don't know what you saw that time, but nothing ever happened between me and any other girl, ever. And this thing about me moving on? Bullshit. I came to see you tonight. I never fucking moved on. It's been this way for two whole years. Jesus, it's always been you."

You're both out of breath by the time he finishes, and the waterworks come quick.

"Who was she?" You sob into your knees. He moves closer to you. So close you can feel the heat off his skin when he fixes a strand of your loose hair.

"A colleague from the Taiwan office. We attended a gala together and I sent her back to the hotel with the driver. I swear, nothing ever happened."

Your cheek is squashed against one knee when you look at him in those eyes that always gets him to fold. "You're so fucking mean. You're so cool and playful all the time. Did your heart not break when we ended? Aren't you even sad about it? This whole time I've waited to see if you were, but you never let anything show. I thought you moved on."

And finally, Ran pulls you into a hug. A hug so tight you can practically feel the crack echoing in his chest. So tight you're almost swallowed into his soul.

"We have a kid together, damn it."

You hear it then. You finally do.

"I still love you so much, baby." His voice is shaky, heart breaking apart in half from how much it hurts for you. "I never stopped, fuck. It's only ever you."

iv.

It's quiet when you sleep. Half-asleep.

You've got your nose buried in your blanket and your eyes are droopy. They're also red and swollen, but he'll take care of that for you tomorrow.

Thankfully, Arisa isn't woken up by the commotion. She's still sound asleep when Ran goes to check on her after he's ushered you in from the cold.

Your blanket rustles in the quiet when you reach your arms out to go pull him in closer to your chest. "Why are you so far away?"

He laughs a little, "I'm here," while you drape a leg over his hip.

Your sleeping position way too intimate for two ex-lovers who are divorced, and just yelled at each other's faces not too long ago.

But you don't think you care too much. Ran just admitted he still loves you and it's more than enough for you to kiss him again. You need to hold him tonight. You need him to be yours again, even just for one night.

"Rub my back." As always, you're very demanding with affection. And he always delivers as you wish.

But you can't deny that there's still a lot to work on in your relationship if you want to try again. Love isn't just enough to fix things, and only one minor improvement of him being attentive again to your feelings doesn't mean a lot if he can't show that he won't repeat it again.

And you're not perfect either. You're always wicked with your tricks when you don't get the attention you desire, or deem as enough. There's no denying that you only went out with a man to make a certain someone jealous 一 to see if he still cares 一 because you know he's been waiting around at your place to see if you get home by feet or in another man's car.

"That twat that you mentioned earlier..." You trail off and he hums, a smirk on his face when he buries it in your neck again. "I never did anything with him, okay? I stopped seeing him a month ago. We just went out for dinner, like, three times. And he always suggested to AA the bill every single time. He's stingy."

And again, you don't really leave room for him to continue the conversation.

"That's alright."

And perhaps tomorrow will be a better day.

But he's one step closer to winning you back again.

A win is always a win.

And againnnn this is not even close to what was asked for i think you might've been looking for fluff lol 😭😭🙏🏻 and i love how every individual as a couple aren't perfect and i tried my best to portray their own traits in here. And they've been following each other around after their divorce lol

[mavrintarou]

[1:21 AM] Tsukishima Kei A/B/O

Warning: hurt & comfort, spicy smut

.

He entered the large café and his eyes found the one person he was looking for. Tsukishima Kei sighs, feeling instant relief. He walked towards her with his backpack slung on one shoulder. Y/n, his best friend, was chatting with their other friend beside her, and she didn’t notice his presence or scent.

His long finger poked her cheek before he took the seat across from her. His eyes softened when her expression went from confusion to who touched her to seeing him and her face brightened. Kei will never get tired of her affection for him.

“Hi Kei,” Y/n greeted in the tone that she always used for him, it was low, yet full of love.  

He has been in love with his best friend for many years since they were sixteen.

At almost twenty-seven, Kei was in love with his best friend.

As each year goes by, he is unable to hide it.

“Dude, just tell her.” His teammate groans, “your four eyes are projecting hearts in her direction. I don’t know, is she blind too or just oblivious.”

Just oblivious, she just thinks they’re just friends only, best friends, Kei explained.

Y/n once confessed to him when they were fifteen and he shut her down. Being the person that she was, she smiled and nodded, asking if they could remain friends regardless. Kei shrugged and he recalled saying, “sure, if you want.”

But their lives changed afterward. Y/n kept her distance from him and at first he thought it was her defense mechanism and brushed it off, giving her the time she needed to get over her embarrassment of being rejected. A few weeks followed and he saw Y/n less and less and he was filled with anger and pain.

Angry that she was the one who asked if they could still remain friends yet she was the one acting like a stranger now.

Pain that she said she liked him yet after he rejected her, she easily turned those feelings off as if they were never real in the first place and ignored him.

Having no one to turn to, another realization on Kei’s part that he didn’t have anyone except Y/n, he turned to his older brother who gently explained it from a different perspective.

“She probably just said that to ease the moment, dummy,” Akiteru explained, ruffling his little brother’s hair. He frowned and narrowed his eyes at Kei, “are you… did you have your second gender yet?”

With furrowed brows, Kei snapped, “no, they said I don’t have it until I’m sixteen.”

“Aren’t you turning sixteen… tomorrow?”

He’s been distracted he has forgotten his birthday was around the corner. For the past three years, he had Y/n reminding him that his birthday was near and nagging him about planning for his birthday.

But he didn’t have her reminder.

He didn’t have Y/n.

“Kei,” Akiteru called his little brother’s name softly, “are you okay?” He asked concerned, noticing the tear slipping down his cheek.

Angrily wiping his tears away with the back of his hand, he exits his brother’s room.

That night when the clock struck midnight, Kei had his second gender.

A dominant alpha.

He returned to school a week later after stabilizing his new gender and marched straight into his classroom.

“We need to talk,” he didn’t give Y/n a chance to speak, dragging her out after him. After securing a quiet place, he confronted her. “What is your problem?”

She frowned, “my problem?”

“Yeah, your problem? You tell me you like me and I said… I said no to your question and you asked if we can still be friends and I said ‘sure’, yet…” he snapped but choked, “yet... you go and act like we’re no longer friends anymore, so, what is your problem, Y/n?” Kei notices her chest taking deeper breaths. In the years that he has known her, Y/n was a crybaby and was most likely trying to hold back her tears. “I just…” he inhales sharply and exhales deeply, “I just don’t like it… can we go back to how we were?”

As he guessed, her eyes swelled with tears and she nodded, “I don’t like it either and I’m sorry I handled it so poorly.” She threw herself at him, knocking him backward. “I’m sorry I ignored you like that. I was hurt and didn’t know how to handle it.”

Kei’s arms locked around her. He had always cringed whenever Y/n hugged him, yet, at this moment, he knew that he never wanted to let her go.

After that, their friendship continued.

For eleven years, neither of them dated. Many people have mistaken them for a couple, but Y/n would kindly clarify that they were just best friends.

They were the best friends anyone could ask for.

“I can’t tell her I’m in love with her, that I’ve been in love with her since were sixteen,” Kei admitted, only under the influence of alcohol one night at his high school reunion with his volleyball friends, Hinata, Kageyama, Yamaguchi, and Yachi. Aside from Y/n, these four are his other friends he kept in contact with.

“Now that Kei is here, I’m going to get going,” Yachi announced, standing up. She pats Y/n on the shoulder with a big smile, “hope your date goes well!”

Kei frowned and his eyes dropped to Y/n who nodded at Yachi. “Thanks, I’ll tell you about it afterward.”

“What date?” Kei asked when Yachi walked away. Y/n looked slightly embarrassed and reached for her glass of water, taking a sip before clearing her throat.

“I’m going on a date tomorrow night,” she answered with a broad smile.

.

Kei spent his day off at the gym to distract himself from thinking about Y/n and her date, feeling unsettled, bothered, and confused.

“You’re playing… different today,” Koganegawa observed, wiping the sweat off his face. “Not sure if it’s good or bad?”

Kei ignored the setter’s remark and reached to check his phone and noticed three missed calls from Y/n and text messages from her.

Hi Kei, are you home?

I have something embarrassing to ask.

He quickly called her back, his anxiety rising by the second. “Y/n?” he called her name when the other line clicked, “hey sorry I didn’t hear your call, what’s up?”

“Are you home?”

He paused, “no, I’m at the gym but I’m about to head out. Do you want to meet up?”

“Yes, please,” her tone was quiet and small.

“I’m close to your place, I’ll see you there?”

“Okay, I’m close to home too, I’ll see you there.”

.

Kei hung his duffel bag on one of the available hooks by Y/n’s front door. He doesn’t see her shoes, assuming he’s beat her to her place.

It’s been a while since he’s been at her place, her studio was too small for his tall stature.

Her place was significantly cleaner and more organized than his. Her full-size bed, positioned against the wall, was neatly made with yellow comforters he bought her last Christmas.

His phone chimed and he looked down at it, a text message from Y/n.

Stuck in traffic, there must be a bad accident. I don’t know when I’ll get home, make yourself comfortable.

He quickly responded, acknowledging her message.

Something sour odor filled his nose, emanating from his body sweat after a day of playing volleyball. To pass the time, Kei returned to grab his gym bag and headed to Y/n's bathroom for a quick shower.

.

Twenty minutes later, Kei stepped out of the bathroom and first hand, scanned the foyer of her studio, seeing no signs of Y/n. Checking his phone, there was no message from Y/n either.

Padding barefoot to her bed, he sat down for a second before lying down. Rolling over, he took off his glasses and tossed them at the top of her headboard before seeking her pillow. He buried his face into it, inhaling her scent.

Even if Y/n is a beta, they still emit their scent even if it’s faint or mostly undetectable by many. Kei could smell her faint beta scent and it was his favorite.

His cock twitched and he groaned, feeling his mind slipping into a place it shouldn’t go. But his body couldn’t help it, lying on her bed, her bed where she sleeps.

Spreading his long limbs, Kei froze when his hand came across something underneath Y/n’s pillows.

His eyes bulged out at whatever was in his hand…

A dildo.

The chime that rang the studio announced an arrival.

“Kei?” She hurried over with a smile but the smile faded when she discovered what he was holding. “Are you… sleeping?”

Kei silently slipped it back into its original location and rolled back onto his stomach, hiding his face.

He felt the bed dip. “Sorry you had to find… my stuff,” she says quietly. She reached for the end of his shirt. “Please don’t be disappointed in me…”

“Disappointed?” Kei snapped, raising his head to look at her. “I am not… okay I am disappointed but not how you think.” He rolled onto his side, “I’m disappointed that you turned to… a… toy to help – help yourself…”

Y/n made a face before quietly asking, “I didn’t know… where else to turn to?”

“Me?” Kei answered in a heartbeat.

Y/n gasped and lowered her voice, “are you crazy? Why would I ask you to… have… have sex… with me?”

“Why not?” he argued.

She blinked, “because… you’re my best friend?”

Kei breathed, exhaling hard. “I can… help. I can help you, Y/n.”

“I know but I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Why not?” he repeated, frustrated.

“I’m not going to… ask my best friend to have sex with me?”

“Ask.”

Y/n blinked at him dumbfoundedly, “what?”

“Ask me.”

“No.”

“Ask. Me. Y/n,” he growled each word out, his pheromone expelling. He leaned closer to her that she leaned too far back and she lost her balance.

Kei caught her before she could fall backward and maneuvered her onto her bed, towering over her. “Ask me,” he said in a gentle murmur. “Please.”

Y/n gazed into his eyes, his eyes she adored. She has seen him without his glasses many times yet, at that moment he looks so different to her. So incredibly handsome.

“I can’t,” she choked quietly, “I don’t want – “ she faltered, “I can’t risk ruining our friendship a second time.”

“Then I’ll take that risk,” he whispered huskily and closed the distance between their lips.

He had long imagined how her lips would taste, how soft and wet they be against his. Kei couldn’t deny the tiny fear in him that if he ever crossed this line, how Y/n would react negatively to it.

But the second her mouth opened and her lips moved just as eagerly as his, wanting more, hungry for more… he knew it was going to be worth it.

“Ask me,” he repeated, his breath heavy and hard from the passionate kiss. He rests his forehead against hers, the tip of his nose brushing hers. “I have been in love with you…” he reveals, his voice raw. “It ate me up knowing you went on a date today and it kills me you have been using… been using a fucken toy to pleasure yourself when I should be the one pleasuring you.”

Y/n gasped, hearing his confession. “You… love me?”

“Since I was sixteen.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Y/n widens her legs and crosses them behind his back. “God dang it Kei, we have wasted so much time… all this time… I could have been… we could have been –“his kiss cut off the rest of her words. She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her fingers thread through his blond locks and she tugged them, “have sex with me, Kei.”

He gives her a sexy smirk, “you can do better, baby.”

She grins and whispers, “fuck me, Kei. Fuck me hard.”

.

“My legs… I can’t feel my legs…” she snuggles deeper against Kei’s bare chest. “I can’t feel my whole lower half to be exact….” She shuddered, good shudders, remembering just moments ago when Kei, her best friend had her in various intimate positions. Kei made her cum three times and all three times he came inside her.

Having Kei fuck her was phenomenal and feeling him cum inside her was everything she ever imagined ever since hearing her girlfriends talk about it. She felt like she was his. His alone now that he’s come inside her.

“Cum inside me, Kei. I – won’t – I can’t get pregnant anyways.” Y/n remembered begging. She groaned embarrassed at her crazy talk at that moment.

The unfortunate life of being a beta.

She remembers the anxiety she had when her sixteenth birthday neared, how she was nervous to discover her second gender.

Her first gender revealed she was a recessive omega. Only less than three percent of the first genders with recessive omega remain recessive omega. The other ninety-seven percent typically become a beta by their second gender.

When she got her second gender, she wasn’t disappointed when she discovered her result was marked: undefinable

The second gender, labeled undefinable, often equated to being identified as a beta. Undefinable results are failure to detect an alpha, omega, or beta chromosome in the DNA.

Kei suddenly pulled away from her, crawling over her and off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Y/n asked, disappointed from being away from him.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, heading to her bathroom.

She couldn’t see him anymore but could hear the water running. Was he getting a bath going for her?

Kei returned and without a word, threw her yellow comforters off and picked her up carefully.

“I could walk,” Y/n says softly, locking her arm around his neck.

“You just said you couldn’t feel your legs,” he pointed, “or are you lying to me so I would stop?”

Y/n gasped and flushed, “you… you want more?”

Very carefully, he steps into the tub and lowers it until he is seated against the tub and with her in front of him, in between his long legs. They remained silent until the water filled up before shutting it off.

He hooks an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him and nuzzling against her neck. “I’m hungry for you, I had to stop myself, not just for you but for myself, or else I would be too greedy.”

He heard her breath hitch before she turned around, shifting around so she faced him. “I… like you greedy. Be greedy with me all you want.”

Kei presses his lips to her shoulder, “you can’t take those words back.” His hand slips between her leg and rubs her still-swollen clit.

Y/n’s head rolls back and rests on his shoulder, her chest rising up and down in deep breaths motion. Her hand finds his hand that’s circling her clit and presses his finger pad harder against her clit. “More…” she moves to slide his finger lower, sliding it inside her. “Here…”

.

“You’re… glowing…”

Everyone has been telling him. He was not going to deny it, he knows he is glowing.

It’s a significant sign when one has found their life partner.

And Kei has found his life partner.

Life has already begun to change for him and Y/n, they were not wasting a single second being without each other. This also seemed to change when Y/n recently discovered that her gender had changed.

She was now identified as a recessive omega.

Kei had noticed the subtle change, noticing the change in her scent and surprisingly sensing her pheromone. It took him by complete surprise. He had entered her studio to help her pack up, her lease was up and he insisted that she move in with him. The new smell smacked him in the face, alarming him as he searched her studio to see if there was an intruder.

Y/n has spent most of her time at his place and couldn’t understand why her place smelled… different.

Not knowing Y/n was home, he barged into her bathroom to find her naked, ready to wrap her towel around her body.

“Christ, Kei, you scared me,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “What – are you okay?”

“Did you have someone here?”

She shook her head, grabbing her clothes, putting them on.

“Your place smells like an omega was here…” he walks out of the bathroom and searches further in her studio. The pheromone wasn’t threatening, it was… warm and almost as if it was recognizable.

When he finds no answer, runs a hand through his hair. Whoever’s pheromone that was creeping on him was beginning to make him hot.

And if he doesn’t get out…

“Kei?”

He spun around and frowned, the source was coming straight from Y/n.

Now that she was dried up from her shower, it was clear… that the pheromone was coming from her.

A brow raised at him as he was growling quietly.

“Are you… okay?” she asked.

“You,” his voice is low. “Why are you releasing pheromone?”

Y/n glanced down at herself as if she could visibly see it. “I am?”

Kei was before her and he cupped her face in his large hands. “Close your eyes, clear your mind, and relax.”

She did what she was told.

Kei groaned and swore, “fuck, you’re in heat.”

Y/n’s eyes snapped open, “what? I am? How?” Her breath hitched, “is that why I feel… weird? Like…” she covered her mouth and gasped. Her face immediately turned a shade of red.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head, refusing to speak.

“What is it, Y/n?” he asked again, “are you hurting?”

She shook her head again but covered her face. “Oh my God… it makes sense now.”

He pulled her wrists away to see her face, and softly demanded, “tell me, I need to know…”

“All I could think about all day was your cock and how I wanted it in every way,” she admitted, she stepped forward and buried her face into his chest. “Oh Kei… you smell… so good…”

He lets out a chuckle and lifts her jaw so his mouth is on hers. “You smell fucken delicious…” His hands move down her body to her ass, harshly grasping her cheeks and squeezing them before he lifts her, carrying her to her bed that was bare of sheets and a blanket. Her unstable pheromone was making him lose his control. “We’ll – we’ll figure it out later… let’s… Y/n I need you… I need to be inside you…”

She hums and is tugging at their clothes, trying to get rid of them.

Kei is flipped onto his back and stares at Y/n with wide eyes. He gets a sense of thrill when she takes charge, showing him what she wants. He lays back and watches her move on top of him. Y/n’s behavior changed abruptly, like flipping a light switch, and it’s noticeably different now.

She was horny. And extremely wet.

“You’re dripping,” he wiped two fingers along her slit, his finger coating with her glistening fluid. If her emitting pheromone was not enough to prove that she is an omega now, her wet pussy is a clear indication.

Just a few weeks ago, Kei had to purchase more lubes but now, her body was producing, changing in ways to accommodate him, her alpha.

He stuffs his fingers into his mouth, tasting her. His cock jerks just at the taste of her, he’s going to need to lavish her with his mouth soon.

“Y/n,” he groaned when she lifted herself and sank on him. This was her second time riding him, the first time, she was so shy and he had guided her through it. “Fuck,” he swears when Y/n began riding him like she has been doing it all her life.

She rolled her hips in a way she had never done before, he felt deeper than usual. Her cries mixed with his low grunts.

Kei’s hands grip her waist, assigning with her movements. He was losing his sense of control.

They were having unprotected sex since Y/n was considered a beta. It had only occurred to him that he was inside her, raw, in her fertile pussy.

Though most of the time, a pregnancy occurred when an alpha knotted an omega, pregnancy could still occur outside of a knot.

He couldn’t deny that he hadn’t thought about breeding her. Each time he thought about it, he wanted it more and more.

Though he shouldn’t, between the two of them, he was the more coherent one. He should stop her and put a condom on.

“Wait –“ he tried to halt Y/n from bouncing on his cock. “Baby… let me –“ either he puts a condom on or he takes charge and flips her on her back so he can pull out when he is close.

But Y/n wasn’t stopping, she was doing the exact opposite. She was slamming herself on his cock harder and faster. She leans over him and her nipples tickle his chest as she kisses him, distracting him.

“Kei…” she whispers against his lips, “cum… I want you to cum inside me… please I need, need, need you to cum inside me…”

He shouldn’t, but he would die if he didn’t.

Just once, just this once, he told himself.

His hands grip her ass and he plants his feet on her bed and began thrusting up to her fast and hard.

Y/n steadied herself with her hands planted beside his head, moaning loudly as he finished and brought them to their release.

She collapsed on top of him, taking all his cock inside her, and felt how he filled her full.

After her first heat subsided after two days, they went to the clinic together.

“Before your heat, did you guys have unprotected sex?” The doctor asked.

Y/n nodded, her face flushing pink. Thinking she was a beta, she had no concern about an alpha getting her pregnant.

“There have been cases where the second gender DNA is dormant, which results in an undefinable gender at the time. Sometimes that dormant DNA just never wakes up and remains dormant for the rest of that person’s life,” he explains. “But we are discovering more cases where these undefinable patients are being influenced by their partner’s scent, pheromone, and body fluids. That dormant DNA is triggered and changes itself into the DNA opposite of your partner, thus…” he gestures to Kei, “turning you into an omega for your alpha.”

.

Kei searched the crowd, looking over all the heads until he spotted the top of her head. He was over a whole head taller than her, he loved how much smaller she was compared to him. He secured his gym bag over his shoulder and headed towards her.

As if sensing him, she turned and her face lit up.

The fluttering sensation that runs down to his groin makes him groan, he needs her.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Thank you for coming to watch me.”

Y/n has attended many of his games, it was nothing new for her but it is new for her to attend his games as his girlfriend.

“You did great,” she giggles, murmuring against his lips, her arms curling around his neck.

“You’ll reward me?”

Y/n hums, “after we eat first.”

Y/n’s familiar scent hits his nose but instantly, it is masked by an unfamiliar and disgusting scent. He frowns, “were you with someone?”

Y/n frowned, “no?”

Kei frowned and suddenly remembered seeing Y/n in the crowd, sitting next to a bunch of men, and recalled seeing the person next to her constantly looking at Y/n and occasionally catching him speaking to her.

It’s that asshole’s pheromones.

Forcing a smile, he releases his pheromone onto Y/n. Even though Y/n is now an omega, her sense of smell was not strong enough to sense other’s pheromones, let alone his.

Changing the subject, he laces his long fingers with her small ones, “let’s go find something to eat then and I need to claim my reward.”

.

Y/n sat at the edge of his bed, facing at the same level as his crotch. Her eyes are covered with one of his ties.

When they got back to their place, Kei suddenly felt different. His body felt hot yet cold and a tingly sensation spread through his body.

He wasn’t due for a rut…

Or was he?

“Suck me,” he demanded.

Y/n’s hands reached to feel for him blindly, touching his abs. His shirt was long gone with only his jeans left.

She teased him, spreading her palm flat against his stomach and sliding down until her fingers found the waistband of his jeans.

He growled, seeing her bite her lower lip to rile him up. She knew what it did to him when she bit her lips. He reaches and pulls her lower lip free, “stop biting your lip, only I can do that.”

“Yes, Kei,” she murmurs and reaches for the button and zipper, taking her merry time. Her finger slips inside the elastic band and pulls down until his cock is free.

Leaning forward, she runs her nose along the length of his cock until she reached the thick tip. She gives kitten licks to the tip, swiping across the precum leaking at the tip.

“Suck,” it came out as a demand but his tone was pleading.

With her eyes locked with his, she took him in her mouth.

Kei’s jaw drops and he feels his eyes ready to roll to the back of his head. It was the first time Y/n’s made love to him with her mouth and he was ready to cum already.

Kei grunts and his hips jerk, his eyes snap open and he looks down at Y/n in horror.

He did cum, in her mouth and all over her face. His fingers reach for the tie, pulling it off.

Her expression was surprised as she wiped the thick fluid off her cheek… and into her mouth. “So… that’s how you taste.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Her lips dart out and licks her thumb, “yum.”

Kei moves before her eyes, she is shoved down on her back as he reaches for the button of her jeans and zipper and in one go, her pants and panties are tossed on the floor.

He spreads her legs and pushes her knees into the bed, spreading her wide. “Hold your legs,” he demanded quietly.

Her fingers grip behind her knees, keeping her legs spread apart. “Kei,” she moaned, she eyed his cock that was already standing at attention, hard and ready again. “Need you inside me…”

He kneels on the bed and rubs his cock along her slits before plunging his entire cock inside her.

Y/n gasped, arching against the bed.

Kei began thrusting, almost completely pulling out before he shoves his cock into her again and again. He kneels on the bed, pressing his body onto her and locking his arms underneath her shoulder, trapping her against the bed. His cock pounds into her, his sacks slapping into her aggressively.

“Mine,” he growls, lips finding her sweet glands. “Mine.”

“Yes, yours. Yours, Kei. I’m yours… oh fuck!” He was big, so big. “Kei – Kei you’re too deep!”

“Deeper… need to be deeper…” he growls into her ears. “You will take it Y/n, take my knot… take my knot, please,” his voice begged. He wanted to knot Y/n, he only wanted her to take his knot for the rest of his life.

Y/n’s eyes widened, now she understood why he was acting differently. Especially earlier when she was engulfed in his pheromone. She pushed his shoulder so she could look into his eyes, his usual soft hues were dark and very dilated. She had only heard of other’s experiences and was nervous for the first time.

Kei pauses, looking down into her eyes as if he sensed her anxiousness. He kissed her palm, “it – it will hurt, as I’ve been told… but I know you can take it.”

She nodded quickly, “yes, I can.” She rubbed her thumb along his lower lip. “Give it to me, give me your knot Kei.”

A low growl vibrates from his chest before he crashes his lips against hers and begins pounding into her. Y/n wraps her arms around his neck, her lower half is lifted as he pushes her deeper into his bed.

Y/n could no longer contain her whimpers, each time his cock hit her cervix, she feels her eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Kei – oh Kei…”

Kei groaned, feeling exactly what she was feeling. The moment her cervix entrance widen and he slipped the tip of his cock through, his knot inflated. Sealing. Locking.

His sacks emptied everything he had inside her womb.

He winced and groaned, any movement between him and Y/n left them sensitive and vulnerable.

Kei looked down at Y/n whose has her eyes shut tightly.

He pressed his lips lightly to her forehead, “breathe, Y/n… I know it hurts but breathe…”

Without opening her eyes, she let out a soft breath of air.

“I know,” he cooed, wincing when he released her leg as gently as he could. Her chest would rise for a deep inhale and slowly deflate as she exhaled quietly. “I love you.”

“I k – know…” she nods, “I love you too,” she says rather quickly. “Oh goodness, Kei… this… how – how long is this going to last?” Her eyes opened and she squealed, “I can’t tell if you’ve filled me so full or if my bladder is going to explode!”

Kei chuckled lightly, pressing a kiss to her head. “I believe it’s the first, a knot’s purpose is to plug you full of my cum so you become pregnant.” His expression changes as lifts his weight off her and ever so slowly and gently, withdraws. His knot has deflated enough for him to pull out. Milky white fluid gushed out seconds later.

Y/n pushed herself onto her elbow to see Kei’s hand beneath her, catching the residue. In silence, Kei got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm wet cloth. He got down on his knees and began cleaning and wiping her down.

“Kei,” Y/n called his name softly, feeling the sudden change in his demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he avoided eye contact, “I… I should have talked to you first before knotting you.” His head hung low, “I should have taken inhibitors.”

Y/n scooted until she was at the end of the bed and cupped his face, “Kei, I love you.” His eyes watered, they were his normal shade again. Y/n plucks his glasses off and kisses each eyelid. “I don’t understand, why are you… upset?”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll – I’ll take responsibility if you do become pregnant.”

“Well, I should hope so,” she said teased, “but why do you sound like that’s not what you want?”

“I didn’t mean to coercion you into it, taking my knot and hurting you.”

Y/n squeezes his cheeks, making his lips pucker out. “You didn’t coercion or hurt me, I gave you my consent,” she corrected, “and if we are blessed with a baby after tonight, it will be nothing but joy and we will celebrate.”

He loosened her hold on his face, “we have only just started dating, I don’t want you to feel like I’ve tied you to me now.”

Y/n presses her forehead against his and closes her eyes, “Kei, we have spent so much of our time together yet apart. I understand we have just become official recently but if things are meant to be, they are meant to be,”  she beams at him with happiness, “and I know we will cross that bridge when we get there, together.”

Nodding, he kissed her. “I just want you to myself for a little bit longer.”

Y/n nodded, agreeing. “Got it, I’m all yours.”

.

[3 years later]

Kei roars making the T-Rex toy move through the toy trees he has set up for his son. “The big T-Rex is hungry and wants to find some meat.”

“No, no, no –“ his two-year-old son whines, “T-Rex only eats leaf.” He tries to make the T-Rex eat the leaves of the palm tree. “You’re good T-Rex, dad.”

Sighing, Kei agreed, “okay, good T-Rex will eat the leaves.” He looks up and finds Y/n watching them from the kitchen doorway. “Okay, you play Kiro, I’m going to help mama in the kitchen.”

He cups Y/n’s face and kisses her passionately, making sure to shield it from their son. “It smells good,” he whispered, “you taste good too.”

“Stop,” she warns and peaks around him to their son, “you have to be the good T-Rex again?”

Turning them around, he wraps an arm around her waist and rests his cheek at the top of her head, “he’s going to be so devastated one day when he finds out the truth.”

. . .

E/n: Kei as a daddy [faints] Another A/B/O character checked off the list! If you're new, check out the other characters I've written for. I believe Sakusa, Suna, Kita, Miya-twins, Iwa, Kuroo, and Kenma have their own stories in the Haikyuu Master list and their individual master list.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @yujisgirll

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 10] Late Nights

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Satoru’s behavioral change is something that you never really expected. It seems that he’s warming up once again, even though you’re not giving him the attention he desires. He wants you to be the sweet and loving woman that you were when you were in a relationship, but you aren’t that woman. But it’s fine with him, he’s still warming up and treating you like an actual human being.

The bar is low, but you don’t really expect much from spoiled little Satoru. 

For some reason, you’re not liking this change though. You prefer him as the cold and mean boss that would snap and berate you due to a minor mistake. Maybe it’s because he’s molding and reminding you of the man that you used to love and you don’t want to see traces of the past relationship. Ren is the only reminder you need, and the best reminder because he reminds you how Satoru left you without an explanation.

You hate how he suddenly drops the mean act and is sweet; professional but still sweet. He tries to make an effort by asking how you’re doing, asking you to take breaks during work hours so you don’t tire yourself out so quickly (knowing that sometimes you have to run some errands for his mom), and whenever he orders food he asks if you want anything. You wonder what his mom said to him especially when you remember how he broke down and hugged you out of nowhere. She definitely said something to him.

“Have you started sending out the invitations?” Satoru asks, and you hum in response. Even though he knows you’re busy, sometimes you can’t get out of the task of working late nights. There’s so much to do in one day sometimes, and it’s especially busy with an upcoming charity event. It’s an event that his father would host each year but it consequently stopped when his mother got a hold of the company. Since Satoru is officially the president of the company, he’s honoring his father by bringing back the event– Additionally, it brings great publicity to the company, but that’s just an added bonus.

“Around one hundred people have said yes, a handful declined, and we still have a lot of people that haven’t opened it or are just thinking about it.” You inform him. 

“Have the Zenins said anything? Any of them?” He’s curious to know their response, and you try to recall. You remember the Zenin name coming up a lot while growing up, you never really got to understand the relationship between that family and the Gojos. They’re in constant competition yet they still invite each other to big events.

“Yeah… They declined.” You answer when you remember. He feels relieved to know that. They’re the last group of people he wants to see… A bunch of complicated snobby pieces of shit. He quite literally doesn’t understand why his father insisted on inviting them to every major event. He remembers Naoya, mainly because they went to school together, and that boy was unbearable. Satoru was lucky that he was a year younger. “I remember one of the Zenins–”

You can’t quite remember his name, and you try to remember the name. It’s on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite get it. Until Satoru speaks up, “Naoya.”

“Yeah! He asked me out when I was like sixteen. Really awkward… He told me that I’d never amount to nothing and it’d be weird to see him and show him that he was right.” You share, and Satoru finds himself surprised at the information that you share. How has he never heard of that? 

“Good thing that you rejected him. Suguru and I would’ve never allowed that relationship to happen anyway.” He responds, and you raise your brows. It’s weird why he’s bringing it up, but you’re more curious as to why Suguru of all people wouldn’t allow that to happen. You understand why Satoru would’ve been upset– But not Suguru. You chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously, wondering if you should ask the question that comes up in your mind.  In the end you ask,

“Why wouldn't Suguru have allowed that relationship to happen?” And Satoru isn’t sure how to respond. He isn’t sure whether to dismiss the question and get back to work, or to answer honestly. Satoru’s eyes shift back to his computer before he says anything.

“He used to have a crush on you back then.” He clears his throat, grabbing his water and taking a sip of it. You find yourself a bit taken back, a stupid smirk on your lips and it pisses him off. You shift in your seat, adjusting yourself so your back is straight.

“Suguru had a crush on me?” You sound so fucking proud of it, and it takes everything in Satoru to remain his composure. You repeat the question, sounding even more proud than the last time. 

“Yeah, he did.” Satoru says through gritted teeth. You’re way too ecstatic to even care about how he talks. His hands form into fists and he tries to hide them from you. “Why does it matter anyway? We ended up dating.”

“I’m just wondering… We all wonder how life would’ve turned out differently if we had made different decisions.” You answer, and he scoffs. When his hands are visible again, your eyes fall on your wedding band. “It doesn’t matter anyway, we’re here to work.”

“You’re right.” He nods his head in response. He focuses on what you have to do before you go back home. He’s sure you’re in a rush to go back home to your stupid cat.

“Plus, you’re married to someone else. It doesn’t matter if I had chosen to date him.” 

He bites down on his lip. He guesses you’re right. He’s not allowed to get upset. After all, he did leave you without an explanation. Maybe he should’ve let Suguru get with you. 

“Mommy!” Ren yells, the biggest smile on his face when he sees you. You always welcome him with open arms, picking him up from the floor and filling his little face with kisses. Even though you’re exhausted by the time you get home, you always manage to find energy to spend some quality time with him.

As you pay attention to him, brushing his hair out of his face with your fingers, the nanny collects her stuff and says her goodbyes before leaving. It’s your daily routine. While you greet him, she leaves without missing a beat. “Are you hungry, Ren?”

“No.” He answers, and while he says that, your stomach growls. Satoru offered to buy food but you rejected the offer since you wanted to leave as soon as you could. Ren, being the honest little boy that he is, points it out, “Sounds like you’re hungry, mommy.”

“I am. I’m gonna order something.” You say, definitely too tired to cook something up. You smile at him, tilting your head to the side, “Do you have any ideas?”

“Pizza.” He doesn’t waste a second, and you chuckle. You figured. You kiss the top of his head and you put him down on the floor before reaching into your purse to grab your phone. You find a couple of messages on your phone from different people. Mrs. Gojo telling you that you need to talk, a similar message from Shoko, and then Suguru checking up on you.

First thing’s first, you order your food delivery before you send a message to Suguru. You then call Mrs. Gojo, and within the first ring, she picks up the phone. She doesn’t bother greeting you before saying, “What’s up with Satoru?”

“I have no idea. I’m his secretary, not his babysitter nor his mother.” You respond, too tired to care about the way you speak to her. “You should know.”

“I swear to God, if you said anything to him–” She stops mid sentence and takes a deep breath. “Do you have an idea of what’s going on?”

“I have no idea. What did Satoru do?” You ask her. You hear her sigh.

“I’ll talk to him. I’ll call you if I need anything.” She says before hanging up the phone. You turn your full attention to Ren, deciding that anything else can wait until he’s asleep. You walk over to him and crouch down to his level.

“You wanna watch a movie, Ren?” You ask him and he nods in response. He follows you as you walk over to the couch to look for the remote control.

“Can we eat ice cream, mommy?” He looks at you with puppy eyes, and it’s hard for you to say no.

“After dinner, Ren.” You tell him, taking a seat on the couch. He takes a seat next to you, laying his head on your lap.

You will always hold some sort of resentment towards Satoru, but you will always be thankful for the little boy that rests his head on your lap. Ren is your whole world.

When Ren is sound asleep, you find yourself on the couch, finger hovering over Suguru’s contact. And just as you’re about to call him, someone calls you first. The man that you were just thinking of. You don’t waste a second picking up the phone and putting it to your ear.

“Hey, Suguru.” There’s a dumb smile on your face. It becomes bigger when he says your name. You don’t waste any time considering your eyes are shutting on their own. You’ve texted the entire night, talking about trivial things. You just have to come out and say it, “Satoru told me that you liked me back in the day.”

“Is that so?” Suguru responds, and you hum. You bite down on your lip, waiting for him to say something else. Any other time you would be embarrassed to just say that, but your brain is barely functioning, and your confidence is extremely high. “What do you think?”

“That if you had said something before Satoru then…” You swallow thickly. Would you have chosen Suguru over Satoru? After realizing just how immature Satoru is, right now you say you would’ve chosen Suguru. Back then though… It doesn’t matter now anyway. “Maybe Ren would’ve been your kid.”

“Is that so?” You hear how he’s holding back on laughing. Finally you hear a chuckle. “Is that your way of shooting your shot?”

“Maybe…” You respond, and you’re lucky you’re half asleep when you’re saying all of this. The silence would be your biggest embarrassment at any other moment. You smile as you hear,

“Do you wanna go on a date?”

[joyfulcowboycandy]

My tears, oh my tears, I just read your Lilia fic😭😭😭😭I don't think I'll be able to get through my day well. I really need a happy ending for him with her🤧🤧🤧

HI ANON! Thank you for your request ❤! I had to think pretty hard for an idea and I settled on this I hope it's satisfactory! I'm not very good at writing fluff and happy endings so I tried my best:p

Lilia Vonrogue x Reader

❥ part two (part 1: here)

Content warning: none

fem reader

Lilia had spent countless years as a hardened warrior, fighting on the front lines and keeping his heart guarded from attachment or sentimentality. But when she died in his arms, all his strength and resilience seemed to dissolve. Now, he was left with only her memory—and the child she’d entrusted to him, Silver. Raising Silver should have been a way to honor her, but each day felt like a reminder of his failure to protect her. Despite this, he kept her memory close, never sharing the truth with anyone else.

When he’d returned to Briar Valley, he had simply told others he’d found the boy abandoned. He didn’t want their sympathy, their prying questions, or their pity. She was his secret, a part of his soul he guarded as fiercely as any territory he’d once protected in battle.

Though he loved Silver fiercely, Lilia struggled to raise him properly. Silver was human, fragile and dependent in a way that bewildered him. Malleus, though eager to help, was just as lost. He was unused to anything so delicate, and his fascination with Silver’s human traits sometimes did more harm than good.

“I do not understand, Lilia,” Malleus said once as they watched Silver wail at the unfamiliar taste of solid food. “Why does he reject this nourishment? Fae children devour their first meals.”

Lilia only chuckled, masking his own frustration. “Human babies don’t always eat everything, Malleus. They’re… unpredictable.”

But when he was alone, Lilia was less assured. How could he teach a child when his own life had been war and solitude? He often tried to remember the warmth of her smile as she held Silver, the way she’d cradled him with a patience and gentleness he could never seem to match. He’d even picked up books on human parenting, flipping through pages with an intensity usually reserved for military strategies. Yet, with every attempt to follow the words, he felt her absence even more sharply, the emptiness of her laughter lingering in the silence of their small home.

Silver was growing quickly, and with him, Lilia’s feelings shifted. At times, Silver’s big eyes, so much like hers, would look up at him with a trust that made Lilia’s heart ache. But he was also reminded of his failings. How could he raise this child with warmth when he had none left to give? He was a warrior, not a father. And yet… he couldn’t let her down. Each time he saw Silver sleep, curled up and peaceful, he’d lean against the doorway and watch, feeling something unfamiliar and gentle soften his battle-worn heart.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.          Years Later

As he grew older, Silver began to notice things that didn’t quite fit the stories his father told him. Lilia had always said he found Silver, abandoned and alone, and that he’d taken him in. But there were gaps in the story, inconsistencies that left Silver questioning his past.

Sometimes, late at night, Silver would wake to find his father sitting by the fire, staring into the flames with a distant, sorrowful expression Silver had rarely seen. And sometimes, Lilia would hold a small trinket—a ribbon, or a faded piece of cloth—that he quickly hid whenever Silver approached.

“Father,” Silver asked once, “were you alone when you found me?”

Lilia’s gaze shifted, and he masked his expression with a wry smile. “You were all I found that day, Silver. Just a bundle of trouble waiting to happen.”

But Silver couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. Over time, he learned not to ask too many questions, knowing they would only be deflected. Yet, the mysteries lingered, especially in the moments when he saw a softness in Lilia that he couldn’t quite understand—a gentleness that seemed to speak of someone else.

One night, Silver dozed off after a long day of training, only to find himself drifting into a dream unlike any he’d ever had before. It felt unusually vivid, he realized he were stepping into someone else’s memories rather than his own. He was in a dimly lit forest clearing, and through a haze of recollection, he saw his father, but not as he knew him. This version of Lilia seemed slightly younger, sterner, his gaze sharper and full of fire. And beside him was a woman Silver had never seen before.

She was human, with soft, gentle eyes, and the way she looked at his father was unlike anything Silver had ever witnessed. In one scene, she was gently binding a wound on Lilia’s arm, her hands steady and careful. Lilia was grumbling, clearly unused to being cared for in such a way, but there was a tenderness in his eyes, a look Silver had never seen directed at anyone before.

The memory shifted, and now she was holding a small child—an infant Silver realized with a start was himself. She whispered to the baby in her arms, her words too soft for him to hear, but the expression of love on her face was unmistakable. And when Lilia glanced at her, it was with a mix of admiration, something deeper and unspoken lingering in his gaze.

Silver stirred, feeling an ache in his chest he couldn’t explain. Who was this woman, and why had his father never mentioned her? The dream faded, but the questions remained, and the next morning, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Father,” he began hesitantly, watching Lilia’s face, “I had a dream last night… or maybe a memory. There was a woman with you. She looked… kind.”

Lilia stiffened, his usual mirth fading as he met Silver’s gaze. For a moment, he was silent, his eyes betraying a depth of pain Silver had never seen before.

“She was…” Lilia’s voice was barely a whisper. “Someone I lost long ago.”

Silver remained quiet, sensing the weight of the memory and the love his father had hidden all these years. Though Lilia didn’t offer any more details, Silver understood that this woman—his mother—had been someone truly special. 

Silver felt a quiet desperation gnawing at him. Now that he had glimpsed a fragment of her—a woman he felt connected to yet hardly knew—a hollow ache settled in his chest. His father had always kept his sorrow hidden, masking any sign of grief with his usual humor and lightheartedness. But after seeing her, Silver couldn’t ignore the emptiness left by her absence, and he couldn’t accept that this was the end of their story.

The longing grew sharper with each day, his mind drifting back to the mystery of her—a mother he barely remembered, a bond he could only dream of. How could he let things end like this? To never have truly known her felt wrong. Still, he was just a human, and what power did he have over something as final as death?

But the thought wouldn’t let him rest. He was not as helpless as he felt. He was strong, he knew magic, and he was connected to some of the most powerful beings in Twisted Wonderland. Surely there was a way—some forbidden knowledge, some hidden path he hadn’t yet considered.

And then he remembered the rumors, whispers of a witch who resided far beyond Briar Valley, somewhere between worlds, where human souls and fae magic brushed against each other. A powerful sorceress who understood the mysteries of life and death and could speak to the spirits themselves.

The path to this witch wouldn’t be easy, but Silver knew he couldn’t turn back now. This was something he had to do—not just for himself, but for the one who had given everything for him, the one he knew his father had loved in a way he had never spoken of.

Silver set out quietly, keeping his journey a secret from his father, Sebek and Malleus. He ventured through dense forests and past enchanted lakes, traveling farther than he ever had before. His heart remained steadfast, though fear began to settle in as he neared his destination.

Finally, after days of travel, he reached the borderlands between the human world and the realm of the sea—a place where twilight lingered, where ancient stones rose from the mist, and the air was thick with enchantment. In the shadows of the rocks, he caught sight of her: the witch he had heard of. She was cloaked in dark robes, her figure partially obscured, but her gaze was piercing, as though she had been expecting him.

“You seek to bring back a lost soul,” she said before Silver even spoke. Her voice was calm but held a warning, laced with an unsettling wisdom. “A dangerous wish, young one. Life and death are not to be tampered with lightly.”

Silver’s resolve held firm. “I know it’s dangerous, but… she was taken from us too soon. I just want the chance to know her, even if it’s only once.”

The witch regarded him in silence, her expression unreadable. “To bring back a soul from beyond… it requires a great sacrifice,” she finally said. “Not in gold, not in power, but in spirit. To restore what was lost, you must be willing to give something of equal weight in return.”

“What do you mean?” Silver asked, feeling a shiver of uncertainty.

She gave him a steady look. “It will cost you a piece of yourself. Memories, perhaps, or a fragment of your own life force. To give life, something must be taken. And even then, it may not work as you hope. The dead do not always return as they were.”

Silver’s heart raced, but he nodded, his determination unwavering. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The witch watched him, assessing his resolve before finally nodding. She led him to a clearing at the edge of the shore, where she instructed him to gather rare herbs and light a circle of candles in the shape of the full moon.

Silver could feel the energy drain from him as the witch chanted in the language of old, his very life force spilling into the circle they had created. He closed his eyes, focusing on his mother’s face, the brief glimpses he had seen in his dreams—the gentle smile, the warmth that lingered even in a memory. He barely noticed as the witch’s voice faded, the mist thickening in front of him until it nearly obscured the world.

When he opened his eyes, she was there.

She stood just beyond the edge of the mist, her form wrapped in simple robes of soft, muted colors, somewhere between the shades of twilight and dawn. Her hair, flowing, caught the light in a gentle, silvery sheen. Silver’s heart stilled, his breath caught in his throat as he took in her familiar features—the softness of her gaze, the contours of her face that mirrored his own.

For a moment, she looked around in confusion, her brow furrowing as her gaze settled on him, lingering with a glimmer of recognition that hadn’t fully settled. She studied his face, her eyes taking in every feature as if piecing together a puzzle from fragments of memory.

Silver’s lips parted, and the word slipped out like a breath. “Mother…”

Her eyes widened, the dawning realization flooding her expression, and then, as if nothing else in the world mattered, she moved toward him. At first, a tentative step, and then, as recognition and emotion surged within her, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him with a force that belied her slight frame. Silver’s arms moved instinctively to hold her, his heart pounding as he felt the solid warmth of her, the reality of her presence.

They held each other for a long moment, both too overwhelmed to speak, both still trembling with the fragile wonder of what had just happened. She pulled back slightly, gazing up at him, her eyes studying every line and shadow on his face. She let out a soft, incredulous laugh, a sound both joyful and tearful.

“Silver…” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “You… you’ve grown so much. You’re so big now.”

Silver managed a shaky smile, barely able to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions. “I… I never thought I’d see you…”

Her hand reached up, brushing his cheek, her fingers lingering as though she was still trying to assure herself he was real. “I don’t understand how… or why… but I felt something calling me back, a longing I couldn’t ignore.” Her voice faltered, softening. “I thought I’d lost you both forever.”

Silver shook his head, his own hand moving to cover hers. “No. I had to bring you back. I had to know you—just once.” His voice broke slightly, but he didn’t care; he needed her to know the depth of his longing, the years he had wondered about her.

They shared another silent moment, just taking in the wonder of being reunited before Silver finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s someone who needs to see you… someone who’s missed you even more than I have.”

Her gaze brightened, and she nodded, a glimmer of emotion flickering in her eyes as she realized who he meant. “Take me to him.”

When they returned to Briar Valley, Silver led her to the castle, his heart racing with anticipation and awe. Lilia was there, his usually cheerful expression softening as he spotted Silver at the entrance. But when his gaze landed on the figure beside him, he froze.

For a heartbeat, Lilia seemed unable to comprehend what he was seeing. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly open as he took in the sight of her, standing beside Silver, alive, her eyes shining as she met his gaze.

“Lilia…” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears pooled in her eyes.

Lilia took a hesitant step forward, his composure slipping away, replaced by an expression Silver had never seen before—a vulnerability, a disbelief, and a raw, overwhelming joy. “How…?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Unable to hold back any longer, she moved toward him, her steps quickening until she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as if he might vanish. Lilia’s arms encircled her, holding her tightly, and a tear slipped down his cheek as he buried his face in her shoulder.

They stayed like that, the two of them locked in an embrace, their reunion marked by silent tears and whispered words of comfort and disbelief. Silver watched, a warmth filling his chest, his heart swelling with quiet happiness as he witnessed the reunion he had always longed for.

When they finally pulled back, Lilia placed a gentle hand on her face, brushing away a tear. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes softened with a depth of love that Silver had never seen before.

She placed her hand over his. “You never lost me. I was always there… watching over you both.”

Lilia looked toward Silver, his gaze filled with gratitude and something else—a newfound pride, a warmth that he struggled to put into words.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.  BONUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Silver led his mother, Y/N, through the stone corridors of the castle. She held herself with quiet grace, her steps soft, but she was clearly a bit nervous. As they approached the courtyard, Malleus and Sebek stood waiting, expressions guarded yet curious.

“Mother,” Silver began, a touch of pride in his voice, “these are my friends: Malleus Draconia and Sebek Zigvolt.”

Y/N gave a small, respectful nod, her gaze briefly meeting theirs before she glanced aside shyly. “It’s… nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a little of you on the way here.”

Malleus tilted his head, regarding her with a steady, thoughtful gaze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Wait,” Sebek interjected, brows drawing together in confusion, “Silver, you… have a mother? That’s not the story Master Lilia told us…” His voice was skeptical, yet respectful.

Silver shifted slightly. “I uh…. Well, it’s complicated…”

Just then, Lilia approached, hands behind his back, giving the scene an amused glance before his gaze softened on Y/N. She caught his eye, a bit of warmth there, even if neither spoke right away.

“Lilia,” Malleus finally ventured, “perhaps you could enlighten us?”

Lilia gave a faint smirk, his tone dry. “Oh, I do seem to have forgotten a few details, haven’t I?” His eyes flicked to Y/N with a hint of warmth. “She has a habit of showing up when you least expect it.”

Y/N chuckled softly, glancing at Lilia. “Some things haven’t changed.”

Sebek was still gaping, while Malleus studied the quiet exchange between Y/N and Lilia with a thoughtful look. Lilia only shrugged, his voice nonchalant but his gaze carrying a deeper feeling as he said, “Every family has a few secrets, after all.”

Bonus 2: Y/n: Oh… You cut your hair. Lilia: Yes, I did… Did you like it longer? I’ll grow it out. Y/n: W-what? It’s okay! I love it now too. It’s cute. Lilia: I love you too–oh, I mean I love it too, yes.

[s-ublimewrites]

xanax (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: melissa needs a push to make a much-needed change in her life

words: 2.9k

warnings: swearing, mild angst (mel & reader argue), gary bashing, republicanism mention

note: i wrote part of this, didn't touch it for eight months, picked it back up, and now here we are: another fic where nothing actually happens between mel & r, but also everything happens. enjoy!

“Don’t go in there yet,” Janine stops you before you can enter the teacher’s lounge. 

“Uh, why not?” You prepare to step around her and she blocks your path. 

“Y/n, it’s tense in there right now,” she insists. She’s stress sweating, you notice. 

Your brow furrows. “Janine, it’s the first day. It’s…” you check your watch, “7:04am. How is it already tense?”

Janine checks over her shoulder and lowers her voice slightly. “So, you know Gary? Melissa’s vending machine guy?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Yeah, you know Gary. You are, in fact, acutely aware of Gary’s presence in Melissa’s life. Listen, you’re super happy for Melissa - she seems to like him, they just spent the summer in Jersey Shore together. You just think it’s kind of weird how he relates everything to vending machines. And you’re kinda wary of asking Melissa who he voted for in 2016. And 2020. And, okay, maybe seeing him kiss her goodbye in the break room makes you want to puke. Whatever. 

“I’m familiar,” you say to Janine.  

Her eyes flick to the cameras, then back to you. “Okay. Well. On the last day of their Jersey Shore trip, something happened. Melissa is pissed and Barbara totally knows why and I think they’re maybe mad at each other about it? Anyway it’s basically a war zone in there and you need to tread very carefully, Y/n.”

There’s genuine fear in Janine’s voice. Poor girl has definitely suffered the wrath of Melissa Schemmenti this morning. 

“Do you know what happened?” you ask. 

Janine shakes her head. “No, but Barb keeps shaking her head all disapprovingly and saying ‘Melissa Ann Schemmenti, just you wait until Y/n gets here,’ so…” 

Her Barb impression is… pretty bad. You don’t comment on it. 

“Ah,” you say, “so I’m the bomb-defusing robot you’re sending in so Melissa will stop being mean to everyone. I see.” 

Somewhere during your time at Abbott, grumpy Melissa has become your responsibility. Not that you mind very much. You like being the only one that can get through to her when she’s like this; you like that everyone knows it, too. 

“If rugs are Xanax for second graders,” Janine says, “you’re Xanax for Melissa. Good luck!” 

Janine scurries off and you take a deep breath. Here goes nothing, you suppose. 

It’s just Barb and Melissa in the lounge — you figure the palpable tension that hangs between them has scared everyone else off. They sit at different tables, decidedly not talking. Melissa’s face is buried in her phone, glasses on the end of her nose, and Barb stares at the yogurt that she’s stirring but not eating. 

“Good morning,” you offer softly as you step into the room, trying to give an air of ‘I’m perfectly normal and don’t know anything about your potentially-failing relationship.’

Melissa’s eyes flick up from her phone, landing briefly on you before she returns to whatever is on her screen. Barb, though, snatches up her bag and her yogurt and is on her feet moving toward you. 

“Maybe you can talk some sense into this one,” Barb says to you furiously. She keeps walking, heading right past you, and slams her yogurt into the trash before exiting the room. Somewhere in this time, the camera crew has the good sense to scram.

You look at Melissa. She looks back at you. 

“What?” she all but spits - angry, sure, but also upset. Hurt by something. Someone. Your hatred for the vending machine guy is set in stone. 

“C’mon, you don’t get to be mad at me - I literally just got here,” you remind Melissa and drop into the seat next to hers. 

Melissa doesn’t say anything, but she looks at you with less loathing. It’s a good first step. 

“You traumatized Janine,” you reattempt. 

“A strong gust of wind could traumatize Janine,” Melissa mutters. She puts down her phone and finally looks at you, moving her glasses to sit atop her head. “Why? What’d she say t’ya?” 

You remember Janine’s words — tread carefully. “Not much. Something about things being tense with you and Barb… Something about Gary.”

Melissa’s jaw sets and she looks at her lap and she doesn’t say anything. 

“Did you fight?” your voice is gentle.  

Melissa plays with her fingers and shakes her head. “No. Well, I don’t know. Kind of? I don’t know. Maybe.” 

You stay quiet while she thinks about this (you didn’t intend for it to be such a difficult question, but you don’t say that).

“Not yet, I guess,” Melissa finally decides. “We haven’t fought yet.” 

You nod, beginning to understand. “Does Gary know that you’re potentially going to be fighting?” 

She shrugs. “Dunno if I wanna make it a thing.” 

“So, there’s two things going on here? You’re mad at Gary for something, and Barb is mad at you?”

She nods. You nod. She suddenly becomes interested in her cuticles.

“Okay,” you retry, “which do you want to tackle first?”

“Neither.”

“Melissa.” 

“Why dontcha just drop it?” Melissa snaps. 

You don’t back down; rather, you give her a pointed look, and she sighs heavily — her international sign of realizing she was mean to you.

You try again. “So, Barb is mad at you.”

“Mhm.”

“Because of the Gary thing?”

“Mhm.”

“Did you fuck up, or did he?”

Melissa goes quiet again and you kick her under the table. 

“Hey, I don’t care either way. You know I support women’s wrongs,” you do your best to keep your tone light.

This draws a half-smile out of her. “Him. Mostly. Then, kinda me… Kinda.”

It’s your turn to stare at her, because what the hell are you supposed to do with that?

She huffs out a sigh, averts her eyes, and her words come out in a rush: “He fucked up and did some stuff and Barb is mad that I haven’t dumped him yet, okay?”

You nod, trying to piece the information together. “So, you wanna give him another chance, but Barb doesn’t? That’s… not usually how this goes.”

“I’m old, alright?” Melissa breathes out, any trace of venom having left her words. Now, she just sounds exhausted. 

“Hang on,” you hold up a hand to halt her train of thought, “what? First off, no you’re not. Second, what does your age have to do with anything?”

She looks at her lap. “I found someone who wants to settle down with me. I got divorced and wrote off love then found it again and I can’t afford to be throwin’ it away.”

Every once in a while, Melissa will let you see her frayed edges like this. They’re ragged and raw and tender and she trusts you to not probe more than necessary. It makes you feel… something. Something deep and warm that burns inside you like brandy and makes your hands tremble. 

“But?” you coax gently, and she runs a hand down her face in something akin to defeat.

Melissa’s eyes flick to the door, and you know she’s making sure there’s no camera crew and no Janine.

“But somehow we got this far in without talkin’ about politics. I mean, I talk about it. All the time. And he nods, so I thought we were on the same page, but…”

Christ alive, I was right about the elections, you think, and clamp your mouth shut (it is so not the time for an I Told You So).

For the umpteenth time this morning, you choose your words with care. “I’ve never known Melissa Schemmenti to compromise her beliefs for anybody.”

And, well, there it is. You’ve said the thing that both Melissa and Barb knew you’d say, and she wouldn’t be able to fight you on it, because it’s you. Her Xanax. 

She spends a moment chewing on her bottom lip, and her voice is low when she says, “I don’t wanna hav’ta start all over again.”

It occurs to you that this woman is deeply scared that she’s never going to be loved again. 

You don’t know how to reassure her that you’re not going to let that happen. 

Instead, you just say, “Yeah,” because what else is there to say?

After a beat, you add, “You also don’t wanna hav’ta date someone who thinks they’re putting litter boxes in classrooms for all the kids who identify as cats.” 

Melissa huffs out a somewhat incredulous laugh and blinks away the tears that you weren’t planning on pointing out. She shakes her head like she’s clearing out cobwebs. 

“I was hoping we could just ignore it. That it would be one of those things we don’t talk about,” Melissa tells you. 

You look at her pointedly. “Right. Until he tries to tell you that unions strip you of your individual voice and makes you watch NewsMax after dinner every night. Melissa, you’d murder the man.”

The glare you receive in return only confirms what you both know: once again, Melissa is incapable of arguing with you, and she’s kinda peeved about it. 

“Why d’ya gotta to be so…” she fishes for the appropriate word, “…right? It’s obnoxious.”

“It’s obnoxious that I know you?” You suppress a smirk. 

“Yeah.”

“So you want me to let you keep dating a republican?”

Melissa crosses her arms over her chest. “Shut up.” 

“You gotta dump him, babe. Before there’s a questionable campaign sign in your front lawn,” you stress, and she groans. 

“Then who’s gonna take me to Ocean City and haul me back to the hotel room when I’m eight Manhattans deep and three g’s in the red?” She pouts. 

Your eyebrow quirks up. “Is that your only qualifying factor? I can do that.”

The pout gives way to a small smirk. “So, I dump Gary and you take me to Ocean City? Is that the deal?” 

You pause. Or… maybe ‘freeze’ is a more accurate word. 

“I… guess?” you manage to get out.

Melissa considers this for a moment, head cocked to the side. “Not a bad incentive.”

How did we get here? you briefly wonder, and you push the thought aside. 

“So you’re gonna leave him, then?” you try to keep your tone light, hoping to urge her back toward your main objective. 

Melissa huffs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna be my knight in shining armor. You’re not gettin’ me to Ocean City that easy, kid.” She smirks, but it’s tight. Almost forced. 

“Hey, I’m just saying that if all it takes is some drinks on the boardwalk, I’m your gal,” you laugh softly, and she cracks a smile back. 

For a brief moment you feel like you’ve successfully dodged the bullet; Melissa’s more relaxed now, some of the tension having left her shoulders. You just have to coax her a little bit further. 

“I’m serious, Melissa. You deserve way better than a guy who…” is politically vomit-worthy “… doesn’t share your values, y’know? You don’t have to settle.”

That’s when something changes in the way she’s looking at you. The smirk disappears, her eyes narrow, and when she speaks her voice has cooled significantly. 

“Settle?” Melissa repeats. “Who’s settlin’?”

It’s like the air thickens around the two of you. You try to backpedal, to shove the words back in your mouth and swallow them, but it’s too late. Melissa is putting those walls right back up. 

“I don’t need you to swoop in and save me, Y/n,” her voice is sharp, intentionally chosen to carve out space between the two of you. “I’ve stuck it out through way worse than this, alright?”

You sit back in your chair a little and do your best to keep your voice even. “That doesn’t mean you have to-“

“I don’t have to do anything.” Melissa is already shaking her head, voice firm. “I didn’t ask for advice.”

Ouch. Okay, so, she’s kinda pissed. Usually your talks go a lot better than this, and you’re both laughing by now. Then again, usually the talks are about Ava’s inadequacies as a principal or some annoying parent. Not Melissa’s love life and sense of self-worth. 

“Melissa,” you try to control the damage, “I’m not trying to-“

“I’m not some delicate little flower who can’t handle a little trouble. You know me,” Melissa leans forward. “I’ve dealt with way harder stuff than Gary screwin’ up a little. You don’t know half of what I’ve gone through, so don’t sit there and try to pretend that you do.”

Her words hit you square in the chest. You didn’t know what to expect coming back to work after not seeing Melissa all summer, but you didn’t imagine it would be like this. 

Not that you imagined it often. Definitely not. 

You had hoped nothing would be different between you, but she’s evidently putting you at arm’s length now. 

“Melissa, I’m just saying,” you take a breath and try to regroup, “you deserve better than him.”

“Better than what?” Melissa shoots back, arms crossed securely in front of her chest. “Than a guy who wants to settle down with me? Yeah, he’s got some rough edges. So what? Who doesn’t?”

You make a mental note to unpack that sometime down the road. 

“Rough edges?” your eyebrow raises. “Melissa, I’m just trying to make sure you’re happy and not… settling.”

You’re hyper-aware of your use of that word again, and so is she. 

Melissa looks at the table and her jaw clenches. “Yeah, well, maybe you don’t get to decide what settlin’ looks like for me. We’re not on the same page with this, alright?”

In the tense beat of silence that passes between you both, you can feel her withdrawing further from you. The months you’ve spent apart have made it all too raw, too soon. She leans back, arms still crossed, face set in a stubborn scowl. 

“I’ve been fine without your opinion all summer and I’ll be fine without it now.”

You sit back in your chair and try to not let the sigh you let out sound too irritated (or too hurt). This isn’t your first rodeo with Melissa, but still… Ouch. 

“All I’m saying,” you start gingerly, “is that just because you can get through something, it doesn’t mean you should.”

Melissa’s eyes narrow again, but they’re softer this time. She’s listening — even if she doesn’t want to be. 

“I know better than to try to tell you what you can or can’t do,” you continue, keeping your tone casual like you’re discussing the weather. “But I know you, Melissa. You don’t accept less than what you deserve. So if you’re ’sticking it out’ with Gary, there’s a reason, but I don’t think it’s the reason you think it is.”

Melissa doesn’t speak right away, just… stares, with this thoughtful expression. You let the silence hang between you, allowing your words to sink in. 

“You dunno everything about me, Y/n,” she finally says, looking away from you, and her voice has lost some of its edge. 

You offer a small smile. “I never said I did.” 

Another beat of silence. You can see her chewing on your words, probably fighting the urge to make it an argument again. This is always the hardest part — getting her to let go of the fight without feeling like she’s losing. 

“I just… I think you’re worth more than whatever this is,” you say carefully, making sure to keep your voice low. “And maybe it’s time you stop sticking it out just because you’re scared of what comes next.”

That does it. You see Melissa flinch, just barely, but it’s enough to know you’re getting through to her. 

“I’m not scared,” she mutters, but it lacks any real conviction. 

You don’t argue with her, just nod. “Yeah. I know.”

Melissa shifts in her chair, arms still crossed, but she’s less tense. She’s still mad, sure, and maybe she’s even still mad at you, but the fire behind it is dying down. 

“You always gotta be so damn calm, dontcha?” she grumbles. 

“One of us has to be,” you chuckle softly. 

Melissa finally cracks the tiniest smile, her boot nudging you under the table. “Good. You’ll need that calm at the craps table.”

“You’re totally gonna hold me to Ocean City, aren’t you?”

She shrugs. “Gotta have somethin’ to look forward to since you’re makin’ me dump my usual company.”

“Hey, I’m not making you-“ you pause. “Oh. So… you’re gonna do it, then?”

“Yeah,” Melissa nods with a sigh. “I guess I am.”

You just nod, and it seems like Melissa is really absorbing the fact that she’s about to be single again. She looks at the clock like it’s a ticking bomb. 

“Guess I’ve got some time to figure out how I wanna do this,” she says, and you know she’s going to be an anxious mess until 3:30 rolls around. 

“One thing at a time,” you offer a small, supportive smile, and she nods. 

She chuckles softly, more tired than amused. “Right. Should probably focus on my thirty second- and third-graders first.”

Right. Teaching. The thing you’re here to do. You both stand up and start gathering your things. She doesn’t make for the door when you do, and you stop. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Melissa,” you reassure her. “And you know where to find me if you need me.”

Melissa nods and takes a steadying breath. “We’ll talk later?” She sounds almost… hopeful. 

“Of course,” you smile. “If I recall, we’ve got an Ocean City trip to plan.”

Melissa huffs out a small laugh and gives another nod. The tension seems to leave her frame slightly as she finally heads for the door. You follow behind her, knowing the hardest part of the day is yet to come. But maybe, you think, everything will turn out just fine.

[muffinsin]

muffin! Muffin! I just saw something interesting. Babies ears are more developed by 25-26 weeks and can hear and recognize voices and sounds especially of the parents.

And I got a request if you can, can you do the sisters talking to their unborn child that is still in the womb of their female s/o and how they react when the baby kicks when they hear the sisters voice.

Oh? That’s cool, hon! :) Absolutely🙌 :)

Let’s get into it📝

Masterlists

Bela

Bela is there throughout your pregnancy, every day, day and night

She sticks to your side, helps you through everything that has happened and all that is yet to come

She understands, this is difficult for you and will do all she can to make it easier for you

And really, she is an incredible help, easing pains and satisfying cravings within minutes

But, pregnancy is not only a discomfort

The two of you find the joy in it, too

Of course, both of you look forward to your unborn child

Sometimes, the two of you like to joke around, listing names the little one might receive when they’re ready to come out

Sometimes, your little one joins in on this

Bela giggles every time her voice causes a kick. You two figure it either means the baby loves, or hates the name she proposes

Doing this turns out to be one of your favorite activities

After all, not only does it distract you from your struggles and grants her a break from work, but it also gives you both the opportunity to bond with your little one already

Often, you’re sat up in bed or on a sofa, giggling as she caresses your stomach

“How about….Mary?”, she asks, having already decided the child’s middle name to be Alcina, should it be a girl

No kick, and both of you giggle when your lover pouts

“What abouuuut, Anna?”, she asks playfully

Feeling a kick, you write it down on a list of names the two of you have collected over the past days

“What are we thinking about…ugh, please don’t give us a kick, little one…Daniela?”, Bela asks this time, sticking true to her promise to not immediately rule the name out after her sister woke both of you up in the middle of the night, insisting it would be such a perfect name for your unborn child

You laugh, holding your stomach as a series of little kicks follows

Bela is sure; it’s just because of her voices and playful tone!

Still, you note the name down

“Let’s try Susan!”

No kick, and you quickly turn Bela’s frown into a smile when you pull her in for a kiss

You both smile, whispering gentle love confessions as the little one within your stomach kicks again

Just when she’s about to try another name, you interrupt;

“What if it’s a boy?”

Bela looks shocked for a moment, as though utterly surprised at the mention of the other gender

Ah, yes, she nearly forgot about that

Giggling, she speaks; “Daniel”

Cassandra

When thinking of this particular Dimitrescu, words such as “gentle”, “loving” and “parental” don’t quite come to mind

Alas, this is exactly what the sadistic woman is with you

After all, she does not like pain she doesn’t cause you, of course

But, more importantly, she feels so very strongly towards your unborn child already

She loves them so very much already, feels so protective of them already

She loves you and your little one more than anything else

And your little one loves hers

The sound of her voice seems familiar to them already

Each time she crackles loudly as she chases her sisters or some poor maid throughout the castle, the sound echoing loudly, your little one gives a happy kick

And every time she sleeps by your stomach, her hand and face near to protect you and the baby in all cases, and small purr-like sounds come from her, the baby is blissfully calm

Almost as if they recognize their mother and feel equally calmed by the sound

When you tell Cassandra about this, she immediately takes the opportunity to spend time with you and your unborn child

Often, you need to remind her not to share battle stories

You doubt the small thing can even understand words- in fact are sure of it- but with Cassandra’s DNA…you don’t want to risk it

The two of you also uncover another thing, though:

Cassandra’s voice not only alerts the baby, but calms it, too

Often, the little one will be kicking wildly just around bedtime

It’s frustrating, somewhat painful and annoying when you’re just in need of sleep

Cassandra gets by your side immediately, stroking your hair and stomach, trying to calm the little one down

She speaks calmly, whispers gently as she talks

And it helps

The little one, despite being unable to make out what she says, quiets down at her voice and calm, quiet tone

She jokingly calls herself the baby-whisperer

Daniela

Loving as she is as a partner, you knew she would be just as sweet with your little one

Even in the womb, Daniela already is head over heels in love with the little one

She knows, she will love and care for them forever and protect them for eternity

The first time the two of you find out the baby recognizes her voice, both of you are blown away

You feel so tired, resting in bed, clutching your stomach and whining at the little kicks happening just about every time you close your eyes

You’re at your limit, it seems, whining and groaning

You’re so tired…

You smile exhaustedly as Daniela slips in bed with you, stroking along your bare stomach lovingly

“Hey, little one”, she whispers quietly

“Why don’t we let mama have some rest? Or else she’ll take it out on me”, she adds, giggling when you smack the back of her head playfully

To your surprise though, the sounds of her giggles has the little one kick

“Oh? You like that?”, Daniela coos, giggling more as more kicks follow

“You like when mama smacks me around?”, she gasps playfully, giggling when another kick comes

The two are so precious, you feel as your eyes water already

You love them so incredibly much

“I think they got that from their aunt Cassie”, Daniela whispers, giggling when another kick comes

You feel her adjust your position, allowing you to lay down comfortably

“Now, why don’t we let mama get some rest, you little stinker?”

A last kick, no more follow when Daniela stops talking

She curls up by your side instead, stroking your stomach until you fall asleep

Not wanting to draw another kick from the little one, she stays quiet

Instead, her fingertip trails against your stomach, lightly drawing out a shape

A shape of a little heart

[hoakaikapo]

wanna be yours - clarisse la rue x fem! child of athena oc

A/N: this is a rush draft. i’m tired. just take it as it is. i mentally can’t fix it right now because i need sleep. also, this might be multiple parts but idk yet. okay goodnight!

warnings: implied mention of sex, kissing, fighting, teasing, uh i can’t think of anything else, but lmk if i missed any please!!

_______

It was a mutual understanding between you and Clarisse, one that neither of you spoke about. Why should anything be said when you both were tangled up in hot kisses, hands roaming throughout each other’s bodies like lost explorers whenever you saw each other. There was hardly any room for talking in your guys’ heated exchanges, and even if there was room for talking, neither of you knew how to bring it up.

However, you figured maybe something should be said sooner than later. Clarisse was starting to become more frequent with her midnight visits to your cabin, more jealous whenever someone flirted with you, more riskier in public.

In fact, just a few days ago, one of her half-siblings almost caught you two making out in her bed in broad daylight. You took it seriously, honoring the understanding you two had, whereas Clarisse muttered careless statements about being caught as she kissed your lips again.

You figured there was something there now. You had always sensed it between the stolen glances, the slight finger touches when Clarisse walked past you, the way your body simply melted into hers. The unspoken attraction was there. Maybe it was real. You could only hope it was.

A part of you started to hate running and sneaking around just to keep this “relationship” - your secret affair - a secret. But, you would tell yourself otherwise, because you never knew what was truly going on inside that beautiful head of hers.

———

Capture the flag was one of those games that you couldn’t stand to miss out on. The intensity, the atmosphere, the energy between all players. You loved the game, especially since it involved strategizing.

You lay low among the tall grass of the forest, eyes scanning your surroundings, ears listening for any sounds, the grip on your dagger was tight. Your breathing was steady, almost quiet, because you were afraid that someone could hear it.

A twig branch snaps. You bring your dagger closer to your chest, waiting to attack whoever was incoming. Your breath hitches once you noticed the red plumes emerge from behind the trees.

Stay low, be ready, attack when they’re near. That’s how you rolled.

Once they were close enough, you lunged first, making sure to tackle your opponent to the ground. However, it’s a battle of brute strength. Your opponent was resistant, determined to not lose this sort of wrestling match going on between you two.

As you’re both rolling back and forth on the ground, you feel your opponent grab your dagger and toss it somewhere out of your reach. They shift their body weight so that they’re on top of you on the ground, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. You squirm, trying to slip out of their grip, but it’s tight and firm on you.

“You know, for a child of Athena, I was expecting a bit more of a challenge,” a husky yet familiar voice said. You could recognize that egoistic tone anywhere.

Clarisse removes her helmet, still keeping one hand on your wrists, her curls perfectly intact as if you guys didn’t just spend almost five minutes wrestling each other. She looked down and a sly smug came across her face once she realized you were the one beneath her.

“Well, hello, angel,” Clarisse says, bringing her face closer to yours. “Been avoiding me much? Haven’t seen you in this position in a while.”

You scoff. “As if I have ever been beneath you.”

“You were last week Saturday,” the Ares girl reminds you. You bite your lip, knowing it’s the truth.

An evil look is in her eyes as she guides them down your body. You feel her gaze on you, admiring you in this position. Her face mere inches away from yours once she made eye contact with you again. Clarisse’s free hand has moved to your waist, causing you to gasp slightly at the touch.

Every part in your body began to crave her, craving her lips on yours, craving her hands on your body, craving her. Your body is practically screaming for her. You could tell she felt it too. The glint in her eyes was all too familiar to you.

As Clairsse’s face slowly leans into yours, the grip on your hands begin to loosen, allowing you to slip out from under them. She’s nervous, it seems, as she hesitantly licked her lips. You wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer, her lips lightly grazing yours-

Your brain stops you from kissing her. In fact, it reminds you that you still have a game to win - and as much as you want to kiss the Ares girl, winning came first. Surely, she’d understand that.

You use your weight against hers, pushing her off of you and slamming her onto the ground with you now on top. The look on Clarisse’s face showed surprise before it turned into frustration.

Clarisse got teased badly by you. But, you teased yourself as well.

After grabbing two blue bands from your pocket, you tied one around each of her wrists, now implying that she was a prisoner of your team.

“Got you, La Rue,” you cheekily say, hovering your lips over hers once again.

———

Clarisse was pissed at you, maybe a bit beyond that.

The entire time at dinner, all she could do was glare at you. One of your half-siblings noticed and stated that if looks could kill, you would’ve been dead the moment you walked into the mess hall. You shook it off, pretending that the Ares girl was just mad that she was taken prisoner for the first time ever, but you knew it wasn’t entirely that.

A part of you felt guilty. Actually, no, you as a whole felt guilty for playing Clarisse like that earlier. As much as you loved your win later on, you also wanted Clarisse in that moment. If you were able to have both, you would’ve.

Later on that night, you waited outside the Ares cabin, making sure to stay hidden in case Chiron was doing rounds tonight. You sat for what seemed like forever until Clarisse finally came out.

You wasted no time. You grabbed her hand and pulled her to the side, instantly pressing a quick kiss on her lips which caught her off guard.

Clarisse’s eyes were wide in shock, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“I’m sorry, Clarisse,” you apologized, a hint of nervousness in your tone as you weren’t sure how she was going to react. “I-I shouldn’t have done that to you. It was rude, and I want you to know that… I really wanted to kiss you too, but then I reminded myself that we were in the game and I didn’t want to lose. So, I made that stupid decision, and I’m so sorry-“

Clarisse smashed her lips onto yours, causing you to stumble a little bit.

“You think too much. No wonder you’re Athena’s daughter,” she mumbled between your lips before pulling you back in.

It was like a million fireworks being set off at once. That burning feeling of desire in both of your chests was now gone. Clarisse’s hands made her way down to your waist and she held you firmly, as if she never wanted to let you go. You felt your body melt into her touch, wrapping your arms around her neck to pull you closer, even though the space between you two was already minimal enough.

You pulled apart from each other, both out of breath. Clarisse looks at you and smiles before pulling you into a warm embrace.

Despite her rough, aggressive, almost murderous side to her, Clarisse was sweet, gentle, and actually super affectionate.

This side of her was only reserved for you, and you quite liked it that way.

“Tease me like that ever again, and I’ll make sure you taste my blade,” Clarisse mutters into your ear before placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Put a single scratch and I’ll make sure that you’ll never get to see me again,” you whisper in a serious tone. “I mean it, Clarisse.”

Clarisse nods her head. You find it cute that she almost always agrees to everything you say, as if she’s a puppy.

The sound of Chiron’s hooves could be heard just around the corner. As much as you two wish you could have this moment together for just a little longer, dish and stall duty didn’t sound pleasant to either of you.

Clarisse pulls you in for another quick kiss, both on your lips and your hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, angel.”

[empthy1]

Would you ever do a fic of maybe like a domestic Victoria Nueman x gn/fem!r ?? Her and Sage are also my two favourite characters from The Boys at the moment like they just get shit done and they’re super pretty and smart.

- 👁

ofc! and yes you did spell domestic right lol. ty for the request babe. also wtf. wifey is dead. pure fluff.

It’s not often she gets to sleep in past seven—always awoken by the blaring of her alarm clock, reminding her it’s time to get up and go to work.

So not her favorite sound.

What she hears now, though… it must be her favorite, in the entire world.

You both wake up at eight to the sun streaming through the curtains, warm light all over your face. You seem disgruntled, bleary-eyed and slightly confused as you pull yourself from the blankets. Victoria doesn’t mind, endeared by the sight—evident in the way she’s leaning over to kiss you.

You don’t get out of bed until eight-thirty.

Zoe isn’t up yet by the time you stumble into the kitchen. She makes a beeline for the coffee, grumbling something incoherent.

“What was that..?” Is your huffed, amused response, eyes shinning at the view of her ruffled hair and bare face, unmarred by stress—something so rare these days.

Another grumble follows, before she drinks from her mug, the one Zoe got hers for Mother’s Day, and turns to face you.

“Could you wake Zoe up while I get started on breakfast?” She mumbles, already setting her mug down and opening the fridge.

You hum an affirmative, padding softly down the hallway. Her door is slightly cracked, room bathed in darkness, except for the nightlight in the corner. Your hand brushes hair from her face, careful not to startle her as her nose twitches. It makes you smile. Just like her mom.

“G’morning, baby.” You hum, hand gently stroking her shoulder. She pushes up with a soft huff, rubbing her eyes. “Breakfast.”

It’s all you need to say before she’s out of bed, sleepily wandering down the hallway. Victoria greets you with a soft hum as you press against her back, the smell of pancakes and bacon entering your nose.

Zoe is quickly served a plate and retreats to the dining room, but you both linger in the kitchen, enjoying the morning and the beams of sun drifting over each other.

“Good morning, my love.” She hums, greeting you for the first time since you woke up, forty-five minutes ago.

“Good morning.” You mumble right back, now against her lips. As the soft kiss lands and her breath sighs over your face, all the long days seem worth it—if only to have these little moments of peace.