#do you think that screws with a person? because she knows her mothers face and probably has a few memories of her from when she was little

[a-h-li]

how cruel, how comforting

[thewritingrowlet]

The Tireless Wife, ft. Red Velvet Irene

tags: creampie, deepthroat—you know what, just read the whole thing, hm?

length: 8k+

author's note: I speedran this fic so please forgive me if it's too messy; I just wanted to make use of this free time.

p.s. this fic takes place before and after The Determined Wife.

-

Irene walks in the bedroom as you’re gathering your consciousness after a very good, post-sex sleep. “Ah, good morning, my love.” She high steps towards the bed to join you, taking her rightful place in your arms. “Love, on a scale of 1 to 10, how awake are you?” “Seven, probably.” You rub your eyes to see if maybe you can improve that score. “Okay, maybe eight and a half,” you revise.

Irene thinks that it’s not good enough; she wants you to be 100% in the right mind this morning, which is odd. She sits on your lap and starts kissing you passionately, seemingly in high spirits; she’s likely very satisfied with the fact that you’ve granted her wish to be bred.

“Tell me again.” “Nine and a half,” you tease. Your wife rolls her eyes. “Ugh, please don’t play hard to get.” You chuckle. “Aww, come on, love; I just want more kisses.” She puts on the beautiful smile that’s unique to her and only her. “Ah, fine, you win.”

She comes in for one more deep kiss, going as far as invading the space of your mouth with her tongue—it’s unfortunate that she breaks it soon after, though. “If that didn’t make it 10, I’m going to suck you off,” she says. “Sounds tempting,” you tease, “well, maybe later—let’s get to your point first.”

With a smile, Irene fishes something out of her shorts pocket and hands it to you with a closed palm. It is only when she lets go that you can see what it is: a pregnancy test device with two lines on it. “I’m a mother, love,” Irene starts breaking into tears, “I’m a mother, and there’s no question that you’re the father.”

Tears, endless of them, start flowing freely out of your eyes and onto your cheeks. “Y-you’re pregnant, my love?” Your grip on the little test kit weakens as your hand starts trembling—oh, look: a tear lands on the device, right where the little screen is. “I am,” Irene joins you in crying, “thank you for granting my wish.”

You put the small device to the side because you want to use your hands to hug your wife. “No, no, no,” you say, “thank you for giving me such a huge blessing.” Irene starts crying more freely, and you can’t help but do the same. “We’re going to become parents, love—isn’t that crazy?” “It is,” you agree with her, “thank you for making it possible for us, love.”

Irene pulls away from the hug, placing her hands on your shoulders instead. “You need to get ready for work, don’t you, love—let me start your shower.” You shake your head. “Screw work,” you say, “I want to spend this wonderful day with you and only you.” Your words draw a wide smile on her face. “Sounds great, love.”

She turns around before leaning against your chest, placing your hand right on her stomach that’s now occupied by the little one—your little one (the fetus hasn’t formed yet, yes, but the point still stands). Irene giggles as you rub her belly gently. “You’ll need to come up with some names, love.” “You first,” you say, “do you have ideas?” She taps her chin as she thinks of a candidate. “Jihoon-ie if it’s a boy, and Hyewon-ie if it’s a girl.”

You’re a little startled; Jihoon was the name of your little brother who passed away just before he turned 9 years old (you were 13 at the time) due to cardiac arrest. Your parents, specifically your mom, took his passing heavily, falling into what you learned years later as depression, which explained why they weren’t at home a lot—they were busy seeking help from professionals, both at home and abroad.

Irene knows about this story, obviously; you’ve taken her to his resting place a few times. “His memories can live on with our child, love,” she explains the reason behind the idea. “I’m glad that you have that idea, but personally, I think I’d let him rest,” you say, and Irene dares not argue.

“What about your ideas, love?” You take a few deep breaths as you try to come up with some names. “I don’t have any boy names in my head, but Yeseo if it’s a girl,” you say. Irene likes your idea; she thinks that it’s such a pretty and cute name for a girl. “Well, we’ll need to wait until they can tell if we’re having a son or a daughter.”

-

Mr. Hwang, the cook, has made some fettuccine for breakfast, since Irene said that she’s been craving pasta—a pregnant woman shall have what she wants. So, here you are: sitting at the table in the dining room with Irene, ready to fill your stomach with this tasty-looking dish.

Seeing the tall glass of water reminds you of something important that you want to address with Irene. “My love,” you place a hand over hers, “now that we’re going to become parents, let’s stop drinking alcohol, hm?” She nods enthusiastically. “I was about to suggest that idea to you, hon.” You smile. “I’m glad that we’re on the same page.” “About that, though,” she backtracks, “what about our collection? We have some nice wine and champagne.”

You ring the kitchen bell, and Mr. Hwang appears after a few seconds. “Yes, sir?” “Do you drink, Mr. Hwang?” “I do, sir, occasionally,” he admits. “Nice,” you put on a thumbs-up, “would you like to keep our liquor collection? We want to stop drinking now that we’re expecting.” His eyes widen in surprise. “I would be honored, sir, but as far as I know, they’re expensive.” You smile kindly while placing a hand on the side of his arm. “The only thing I care about, Mr. Hwang, is my wife and my child’s health—I don’t care about those bottles.” “If you say so—oh, and congratulations on the pregnancy, sir.”

After convincing Mr. Hwang to keep your collection of liquor for himself, you return to your wife. “Mr. Hwang will take care of those bottles, love; we won’t have to throw them out,” you inform her. “Erm, actually,” says Irene, “can we give the Masseto to my parents, love?” You agree with her request, thus officially marking the start of the transition to a clear-headed life without alcohol.

-

You invite Irene to join you on the sofa because you think that you have some things to discuss with her. “What do you want to talk about, love?” “Which hospital do you want, and how do you want to deliver the baby?” After thinking about it for a while, Irene says she wants to try delivering without surgery but is open to it as the last option. As for the hospital, she chooses the Sacred Heart Hospital, which is a very good hospital that’s also not too far from your house.

“Next up, our stuff,” you say, making Irene confused. “What do you mean?” “Well, we’re going to need a new car; I don’t think transporting the 3 of us in that 911 or your Genesis is a good idea.” “Do you want to sell the 911?” No, you don’t want to; Irene bought that silver speedster as a birthday present for you. “I was thinking that we should just buy a new one—something that can accommodate us and our child comfortably.” She pulls out her phone to search for options, but you stop her. “That doesn’t have to happen today, love,” you say, “we can think about that later on; I was just trying to get it out there, you know.”

Irene moves to sit on your lap. “I have some things to ask from you, love,” she starts on a new subject, “tell me what you think about them, okay?” You nod to get her to continue. “First, whenever possible, please come home early and don’t spend too much time working.” You say yes without hesitation, which satisfies her. Work will always be there, but your child’s growth and other important moments only happen once—wouldn’t want to miss your child’s first word or first step, would you?

“Second,” she puts up two fingers in front of your eyes, “please have mercy on me when we have sex.” You ask her to elaborate further. “I know that we can get rough sometimes, so let’s turn it down a bit to make sure the child isn’t in danger or anything.” “What about the frequency?” You take your turn to ask. “Just the usual, please; I’ll tell you when I want it, and you can tell me when you want it.” Again, without hesitation, you agree to her terms, which apparently serves as a segue for her next point.

“Can I have you, love?” You grin as you feel your cock getting hard. “You certainly can, love—can I have you as well?” Irene giggles cutely. “That goes hand-in-hand, doesn’t it?” “Just wanted to make sure, baby.”

Because of the time and day, there are other people in the house (i.e. the cook and the cleaning staff), so the only place you can have sex in is the bedroom. On your way to the bedroom with Irene in your arms, she taps your chin to get your attention. “Love, Miss Jo wants to take a leave to visit her parents,” she says. “We’ll go out later and get her some stuff to take home.”

You set Irene gently onto the bed in compliance with her request to take things easier during sex. “Ah, my gentle giant,” she comments. She hasn’t used that nickname in quite some time, now that you think about it. That name was given to you by your fellow student council members (including Irene) back in university when you refused to beat up a toilet peeper and would rather have him formally punished by the university and charged by the victims. “I thought you’ve forgotten that name.” She lets out a giggle. “How can I forget, love?”

You come in for a kiss to indicate that you’ve had enough chatter, and Irene welcomes you warmly as usual. “Please, love,” she gulps, “please start already.” You reach for her pajama top and undo the first button. “Patience, baby; I still need to undress you.” She cooperates by undoing her top starting from the bottom button and meeting you halfway. “There, I helped,” she says, making you laugh a little. She then proceeds to pull down her shorts just as you’re about to ask her.

Your gaze lands on her firm belly where your child is being safely kept. “I hope you won’t hate me when my stomach gets bigger.” You shake your head rapidly. “There’s no way I’d hate you for that—you’re my wife and that’s our child in your belly,” you say, and you see that Irene’s eyes are threatening to burst.

You join her in bed after undressing yourself and after she has taken off her underwear. You then pull her into a hug and peck her head everywhere, making her let out that lovely laugh that’s special to her. Once you stop, she places her hands on each side of your face. “I swear on everything I have that I’m so glad that I ended up with you and not with that Kim Junghwan guy.” “He never deserved you,” you say, demeaning. “That is true,” she agrees with you, “you and only you, love.”

You take the bottom position today, letting Irene have her way with you. “I have a feeling that I’d not be able to ride you as well with a big belly,” she comments as she moves to sit on your lap. You’re starting to get ticked off, but at the same time, she’s coming from a good place, so for now, you simply let out a sigh. “Love, please don’t worry about the sex; we’ll adapt as the pregnancy continues. Just focus on your health and stress levels, please.” Irene places her hands on her chest. “That’s touching, love—thank you.”

With your cock in hand, she aims it at her entrance. “Here I go,” she notifies you, as if you couldn’t see what she’s doing. Irene slowly goes down on your shaft, hugging it with her tight and warm walls. You breathe deeply as she starts moving up and down. “Fuck, that’s good,” you praise her to rile her up. “Yeah, daddy?” There it is: the kink that you love the most—Irene has always been quick to use it.

Irene bends backwards slightly and fixes her grip on your knees. After making sure that she’s steady, she starts moving faster on your cock, and you desperately want to hold those bouncing plump tits of hers. “Daddy, daddy,” she chants, “oh, you’re so deep in me, daddy.” “Keep it up, baby—fuck, you’re doing so well.”

Irene might not be the best at working out, but damn is she good at managing her stamina during sex; it feels like she has this extra battery pack that’s specifically used for sex, and as long as praises and words of affirmation keep flowing out of your lips, that battery will never die.

“Oh, no, daddy,” she slows down a little, “I think I’m about to cum.” “I don’t see the problem with that.” You slap her butt a few times to get her to speed up again. “Go on, baby; be good and cum for me.” Irene nods and picks up the pace again, trying to adhere to your command to “be good.”

Irene’s thighs shake violently when her first orgasm hits while her walls are gripping your shaft very tightly, making it very hard to you to not just bust right here. You pull her towards you and hug her. “Good job, love—very good job.” “You—oh, you always bring the best out of me, daddy,” she replies despite the heavy pants. “I can say the same about you, love,” you whisper back.

Without retreating from her pussy, you roll over until you’re the one on top. “You’re so sweaty, love,” you comment while wiping her forehead, “that must’ve been exhausting for you.” Irene shakes her head feebly. “A-anything to make you happy, daddy.” The way she always puts your pleasure as the top priority is touching. “Alright, let’s take a breather first, okay?”

“Take a breather,” you say, but you’re still slowly moving back and forth in her pussy, making her let out soft moans despite the exhaustion. “Ha-have mercy—please, daddy,” she utters faintly, almost too quiet to reach your ears. “Don’t worry, baby; I’m being gentle.”

As you keep fucking her like this, you can feel your orgasm inching closer, so you pause for now. “Okay, I’m going to stop here—I don’t want to cum without your full attention.” “B-but you have my attention, daddy.” You chuckle. “Your eyes are barely open, love.” When you see her opening her mouth to make an argument, you quickly lean in for a kiss to interrupt her. “Relax, love, we have all day.”

You’ve spent the last few minutes kissing (while still being inside her), and Irene is the first to break it. “When are you going to give me your cum, daddy?” You assess that she has recovered enough for you to finish this, so to answer her, “Right now.” You straighten your back and prepare to start. “Where do you want it, love?” Irene scoffs. “Where else?” “But what about your career?” The callback to the career vs. child argument makes her laugh. “I’m literally pregnant right now, in case you forgot—fill me however much you want, daddy.”

You place her legs together on one side of your shoulder and start fucking her. Irene promptly places her hands on her tits, doing whatever she can to add more stimulation on top of that you’re giving her. “Daddy, you’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it, you know.” You let out a hum to answer her. “Give it to me whenever, daddy.”

You fasten your grip on her legs as you turn up the pace to the maximum of your ability. Your wife has now been reduced to moans and screams; she no longer has the headspace to play with her tits and instead just puts her hands on each side of her head.

“Love, I—” Before you can finish your sentence, semen escapes your shaft and enters her body, making her let out a long, sensual moan because of the warmth. “Oh, daddy,” she gasps, “oh, God, you’ve filled me again.” You let go of her legs and fall limply onto her body. “I love you, baby,” you say right into her ear. “I love you more, daddy.”

-

As you roll closer towards your house, you see your wife patiently waiting for you in the front garden among the flowers. She turns her head and puts on a smile for you, and you swear to God that exhaustion and stress from work has been taken away, and along with it, your breath.

You quickly jump out of your car, stumbling on your own leg in the process. “Welcome home, love,” she greets you with open arms. You take your rightful spot in her arms, and you can feel her belly bump against yours. “Tired, love?” “I was but not anymore,” you say. “It’s like magic, isn’t it—the moment you see your significant other, everything else just disappears.” “Absolutely,” you agree with her.

Irene invites you to sit on the garden bench with her, but you opt to take a knee in front of her instead. You rub her belly gently to greet your little one, and Irene looks at you with a smile of approval. “I want to say that I’m tired, but it doesn’t feel right.” You furrow your eyebrows. “Why not?” “I mean, it’s you who went to work, not me.” “That’s absurd; you might be at home, but I imagine being pregnant is tiring.” You can tell that she wants to make another argument, but the way you’re looking at her right in the eyes makes her bury that intention.

“Have you eaten, by the way?” Irene nods. “I asked Mr. Hwang to make me lentil soup for lunch.” Lentil soup sounds nice and healthy, which is important for a pregnant woman. “It was so delicious, by the way.” You laugh. “He’d be in deep trouble if it wasn’t.”

You think that this is enough catching up for now and that it’s time to get into the house, so you carry her inside safely. Irene says she wants to watch TV because she’s “tired of being in the bedroom,” so you put her down on the sofa and hand her the remote. You then tell her that you’ll join her after taking a quick shower.

When you get back to the living room to join her, you see that Irene is watching this little documentary on Giethoorn, this beautiful hamlet in the Netherlands where rivers run everywhere. She keeps letting out wows as shots of the area are shown on screen, deeply immersed in the show. “Do you think we can move there one day, love?” “Oh, man, I hope so; that looks like a really nice place to live in.” Irene turns your head towards you. “Maybe if we can’t live in the Netherlands, we can live in some quieter place instead—Damyang or Jinhae, perhaps?” You smile at her. “We’ll see what we can do, alright?” Not satisfied with just words, she makes you make a pinky promise that you’ll seriously consider it.

-

You didn’t know that you fell asleep, only waking up because you feel soft pokes on your thigh.

“Hngh?”

“Love, you’re tired, aren’t you?”

“A little.”

“Please, that doesn’t look like a little.”

“A little lot, perhaps,” you change your answer.

“I was going to invite you to sleep, but you haven’t eaten yet.”

“That’s fine, love.”

“No, it’s not fine—do you want to have food delivered here?”

“Eh, sure,” you accept her offer, “order something light for me, please.”

Irene doesn’t say anything, presumably busy scrolling through the food delivery app to find something for you. “Light, light, light—what’s something that’s light?” “A lamp—haha, get it?” Irene slaps your thigh for your joke. “Daddy is really funny, isn’t he, Hyewon-ah?” Hearing your wife say that name startles you a tad. “Hyewon-ah? Really?” “I don’t know,” Irene shrugs, “I just like that name.” “Oh, I thought we’ve found out if we’re having a daughter.”

Irene focuses on ordering food again, and something finally catches her fancy. “What about some toast, love?” “What toast?” She shows you the available options, from peanut butter toast to kimchi and cheese toast. “Get me one peanut butter toast, please.” She says that it’s a better deal to order at least 3 toasts, so she adds some other toast to the order. “It’ll be here in around 45 minutes, love.” You thank her for the help and then invite her to rest her head on your lap.

“Love me, please,” she says in this aegyo-esque voice. You bend down and peck her on the forehead. “Anything specific, love?” Irene opens and closes her mouth a few times, seemingly trying to judge if she should speak her mind. “You’re so tired, though,” she utters, and you can already tell what she’s getting at. “You want me between your legs, don’t you?” Your wife covers her red face. “W-well, if you put it like that…” “We’ll wait until I have some food in my stomach and see how we can proceed—do we have a deal?” “Yes, deal!” The way her voice cracks makes you laugh. “My, my, aren’t you a cutie?”

-

The toasts are here: you’ve grabbed the bag from the delivery man and put it on the living room table.

You pick up the box with the text “PB” written on it. Irene says that she has bought some toast from this place before and hopes that you’ll like it like she does. You nod in satisfaction after taking the first bite. “I think I know what brand of peanut butter this is,” you comment. She scratches her head in cluelessness. “I don’t know, love; they all taste the same to me.”

You notice that Irene has two hands on top of each other on her stomach and keeps licking her lips while watching you eat. “Want to have a bite, lovely?” She nods timidly. “It looks so good,” she admits, “b-but I don’t know if I should eat.” You tilt your head in confusion. “Why not?” “Erm, I think that’s ultra-processed food—that’s one. Two, I don’t want to gain too much weight.” Weight can be quite a sensitive subject, especially considering that your wife has always been paying close attention to it.

You keep chewing as you think of a reasonable answer—well, here it goes: “I’m sure that you have good intentions, but I’m almost certain that one toast won’t hurt you or Hyewon-ie.” You can tell that she’s starting to get swayed, as proven by how she has a box with “CHOCO” written on it in her hands. “Forgive me, Hyewon-ah, but I really want this toast.”

You panic a little when Irene sheds a tear after taking a bite. “Oh my, are you okay, love?” She nods again. “T-this is so good, but I feel so guilty for eating this—oh, I’m so sorry, Hyewon-ah.” You put down your and her toast on the table so that you can hold her hands. “Love, love,” you try to get her to focus on you, “it’s okay, no one is yelling at you for eating one toast—not me, not Doctor Shin, and certainly not Hyewon-ie.” “A-are you sure?” “Yes,” you say in a resolute tone. “We’ll be just fine, trust me.”

Feeling decently comforted and assured by your words, Irene asks if she can have her toast again, so you give it back to her. You make sure you don’t forget to wipe that random tear off her cheek while you’re at it. “Thank you,” she utters softly. “You’re welcome, my love,” you say equally softly.

-

After finishing those tasty and quite filling toast, Irene asks if she can have you between her legs, so you stand up from your seat and stretch your body to warm up. “I apologize in advance if I finish too fast; I’m kind of tired.” Your wife shakes her head. “As long as your load is mine, I don’t really see the problem with finishing fast—I’ll probably finish before you, anyway.”

There’s only you and your wife in this house right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that sex should only happen in the bedroom for the next 6 to 7 months; it’s more comfortable for her and safer for your child.

After getting undressed, Irene asks to be helped sit on the stool that she prepared earlier today. “It seems like you have an idea,” you comment. “Yes,” she says, “I want you back there.” “What happened to turning it down?” “This isn’t our first time, is it—just remember to be gentle.”

You open the bedside drawer to find the lube and see that it’s not there. “We don’t have lube?” Irene looks away to hide her red cheeks. “Erm, I might or might not have used it earlier.” You furrow your eyebrows. “You used it? For what?” She shyly admits that she fucked herself in the rear with a dildo this afternoon. “I-I wanted to prepare for you, because I know you like it when I think ahead.”

It’s not strange or new to you that your wife is lustful; you’ve known that for years at this point. That said, you’d think that being pregnant would turn that lustfulness down, but it doesn’t seem like it so far—in fact, it feels like she’s more lustful than ever.

You stand in front of her and hold her chin. “Oh, love, what would you do without me—who could satisfy you if not me?” “I don’t know, daddy; it’s always been you since day one.” You reward her with a kiss for answering correctly. “May I, then?” Irene giggles slightly. “Certainly.”

You walk around and look for your target. “I’m pulling this plug out, alright?” After getting a nod of approval from your wife, you gently tug on the plug. “Ngh!” Irene clenches her fists when she feels her rear being stretched by the wide part of the plug. “Relax, love—it’s almost out.” With a pop, the plug is finally out of her tight ass, and you quickly put your mouth on it for the first time ever in this marriage, making your wife gasp in shock. “Daddy, no, I’m dirty there.”

You ignore her and keep running your tongue on her puckered hole; quite fun, you must admit. Occasionally, you try parting her cheeks apart so that you can put the tip of your tongue in her rear.

Feeling weak, Irene starts tumbling forwards, but you catch her just in time to save her from going face first onto the floor. “God, you’re so crazy, daddy.” “Your new task, baby, is to keep it clean all the time—is that clear?” Irene nods in obedience. “Y-yes, sir; I will try my best.” You squeeze her butt cheek lightly. “Good girl,” you praise her.

You get on your feet and hug the panting woman from behind. “Are you alright?” “Y-yes—fuck, you’re fucking crazy.” You pinch a nipple, more surprising than painful. “That’s not how you speak to me, woman.” “S-sorry, sir, b-but you are indeed crazy.” You kiss her on the back of the head. “I hope you didn’t mind, by the way.” Your wife shakes her head. “Not—oh, not at all.”

“Sir, daddy,” Irene can’t choose between the two, “would you fuck my ass, please?” “Thought you’d never ask, baby.” You stroke your shaft to make sure that it’s properly hard and ready while your wife spreads her butt cheeks to give you access. You place the tip right on the entrance of her forbidden hole. “Are you ready, baby?” “Yes—oh, God, fuck, yes.”

You waste little time and go deep right away into her warmed-up hole. “Fuck, you’re always so tight right here.” “Hngh! Ngh!” Irene can only let out grunts as she’s getting overwhelmed by the stimulation you’re giving her. “No one can touch you like I do, hm?” She shakes her head weakly as a response, still unable to say anything back.

You hook her arms backwards as you get ready to fuck her to make sure she doesn’t fall off the stool. “I’m yours, daddy—fuck me however you want,” she says, as if it was ever a question. “Bet.”

With this steady posture, you start fucking her ass roughly, forcing Irene to scream with each thrust delivered. “My husband is fucking amazing—Hyewon-ah, daddy is fucking amazing,” Irene thinks as the sounds of your hips crashing against her butt enter her ears.

As time goes on, everything starts to get blurry for Irene, and it doesn’t help that from this position, she has no control over how fast you’re fucking her. “P-please stop,” she says weakly, hoping that it’ll still reach your ears amongst the clapping sounds. It doesn’t seem like you heard her, though; you’re still fucking her ass recklessly, which leaves her no other choice but to just yell out loud. “DADDY, STOP—PLEASE!” Hearing her scream makes you stop abruptly with more than half your shaft still lodged in her ass. “Daddy, please, let me breathe,” Irene begs.

Still panting, you gently retreat from her gaped ass. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you just realize how rough you’ve been. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, love,” you repeat to show sincerity. You pull her into your arms and take a seat on the edge of the bed, and the sight of your wife crying (from getting fucked in the ass, nonetheless) twists your heart like nothing else. You keep repeating apologies while rubbing her stomach gently, hoping that doing so could also tell Hyewon that you’re regretful of your actions.

Irene feebly reaches for your face. “I-it’s okay; it was good until it became overwhelming, daddy.” You lie her down on her side and inspect the result of your recklessness—it seems like she didn’t get injured by your shaft. “I think you’re fine, baby.” “Great,” she replies, “so what are you waiting for?” You blink rapidly in confusion. “I thought you were in pain?” “I never said that,” she shrugs. Seeing that you’re silent, Irene piles on. “C’mon, look at yourself, daddy: you’re still hard and ready to fuck me—let me finish the job, please.” “Fine,” you give up, “I’m not getting in your ass again, though.”

Irene says that you have a deal and asks you to lie down so that she can take control, which is fine by you; you’ve had enough “fun” being dominant tonight. You keep an eye on your wife as she aims your shaft towards her entrance from the cowgirl position. You grit your teeth when Irene slowly sits down on your cock—you’re in her ass again. “Oh, fuck, welcome back, daddy.” “I thought we had a deal.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irene deflects, “anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride, hihihi.”

Irene rests her subtly bulged belly on your body while her hips are busy bouncing up and down along your length. She keeps chanting “you’re in my ass” as if you can’t tell that you are indeed in her ass. You reach around and slap her butt. “Go faster.” Having planted her hands on your chest, Irene tries to bounce faster on your cock. “Oh, oh, yes—how’s this, daddy?” It’s you who can’t respond this time; just like earlier, the way her muscles are squeezing you prevents you from thinking straight and coming up with words to say.

You rest your head on the pillow while your wife is busy fucking herself on your cock (while moaning so freaking freely), and for some reason, your eyelids feel like they weighed 100 kilograms—what the hell are they so heavy for? “You must be close, daddy,” Irene makes a keen observation. “Uh-huh,” are all that escape your lips. Hearing that you’re close serves as fuel for Irene to keep up the tempo and make you bust with her ass; this tireless woman can be very crazy in bed, pregnant or not.

“Love, I’m about to—oh, fuck, I’m about to bust,” you warn her. “Yeah?” Her voice is barely heard thanks to the endless clapping noises. You grip the pillow your head is resting on as your cock starts twitching wildly in her rear. “Baby, please,” you let your desperation to cum be known to her.

Irene slams herself down onto your body, and you instantly erupt, surprising the both of you at the same time. She throws her head back as your warm semen floods her ass. “Oh, oh, yes, daddy.” It was her who did all the work, but it’s you who’s panting heavily.

“Love, thank you so much.” Irene removes you from her ass and lies down next to you. “Even when tired, you’re still so strong,” she praises while her hand runs along your length. “What’s your secret, daddy?” “You’re my secret; if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be like this.” You let out a low moan when your wife manages to squeeze the last bit of semen out of you. “You’re so cute, you know that?” You chuckle. “No, I don’t.”

-

It feels odd to not have Irene welcome you at the driveway, especially since she’s been doing that consistently for the past few weeks, too. Her Genesis is parked neatly in the usual spot, so she must be at home, but where is she?

“I’m home.” You close the door behind you and scan your surroundings—still no sign of your wife, making you wonder if perhaps she’s asleep. You make your way towards the bedroom, and your jaw drops immediately when you see her kneeling on the floor while being almost entirely naked. Irene buckles a little, presumably because she feels a fetus kick. “Even Hyewon-ie doesn’t approve,” you comment.

You rub the side of her face gently. “What on God’s green earth are you trying to do, love?” The ball gag in her mouth prevents her from answering, but she has this little spanker in her hands that she’s trying to hand over to you. “Love, please, what are you doing?” Irene just looks at your feet while her hands are on her thighs. “This isn’t how a woman in her second trimester is supposed to behave, is it?” You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to get yourself together. “Fine, I’ll play your game.”

Your wife steals some glances as you undress in front of her, and when you’re finished, you take the time to take off her bra, exposing her tits that you swear have grown bigger recently. You then lift her onto her feet to remove her panties, and Irene instantly drops back down onto the floor after you’re done. “Oh, you’re that serious, aren’t you?”

You pick up the slim paddle from the floor and prepare to swing. “Wait, where do I hit her?” You look for places to hit her on, but the more you think about it, the more that you don’t want to do it. That said, you imagine that it’d disappoint her if you chicken out, so you decide to play along until she taps out.

You hit her on the right shoulder once. “Ngh!” Irene lets out a yelp of surprise when the paddle lands. “That’s one.” You move the paddle to your other hand and hit her on the left shoulder. “I’ll count until 29, okay?” Irene nods in response, and that’s when you look for other targets.

You ask her to show you her palms and hit them successively. “Any ideas?” Your wife taps her thighs, indicating that she wants to be hit there, so you hit those two spots, harder than you’d like to admit, making her grunt in pain. “Sorry.” That sounds less sincere than you’d like, but it’s okay, you’ll make it up to her later.

Before you continue, you join her on the floor and unlatch the gag. “This doesn’t look comfortable, so I’m taking it off,” you say. Irene relaxes her mouth now that she’s free. “Thank you, master.” You sigh. “Master? Really?” Irene nods enthusiastically. “Yes, master.”

You stand back up and swing at her tender breasts out of nowhere. “Fucking naughty, aren’t you?” As Irene opens her mouth to say something, you hit her breasts again. “You’re pregnant, and this is how you fucking act? Explain yourself.” You tell her to explain herself, but you don’t give her the chance to do so, interrupting her with a hit on the forearm. “M-master, please.” “Please what?” You subconsciously raise your tone. “Please punish me; I-I’ve been naughty.” You roll your eyes. “Fuck it, we’re going back to zero.”

You hit her on different places in rapid succession, and Irene screams after each one. “How many?” “S-six, master.” “Good,” you praise her emptily, “count to 18, slut.” You initially chose 29, which is the date she was born, but changed it to 18, which is the date you were born. As much as you’re putting on a cold charade for her, you don’t have the heart to hit her 29 fucking times.

You tell her to get on her hands and knees to expose other parts of her body. You smack her on the back a few times before moving on to her butt and hitting it a few more times. “How many?” Irene chokes up momentarily before she manages to get her answer out. “T-twelve, sir.”

To end the show, you give her some hard hits on the back of her thighs. “E-eighteen, master.” “On your knees,” you command, and Irene obeys right away. “Explain yourself, or else.” “I-I was just trying new stuff,” she says. “Is that it?” Irene just nods, and you can’t help but sigh, feeling somewhat frustrated by her simple answer.

“Love, be honest with me: why are you acting like this?” After taking a deep breath, Irene proceeds to explain the whole thing, from how she tore the left rear tire of her car against an elevated curb while trying to pull into a gas station this afternoon, to the fact that she touched herself thrice while thinking about you. “L-like I said, I’ve been very naughty.” You exhale deeply. “Those few things don’t require punishment—especially not of this sort.” Your wife shakes her head. “But I want to be punished,” she insists.

“Have you had enough, or what?” Irene slowly shifts her gaze to meet yours, and you know that she knows that you’re aroused, as shown by your erect cock. “Do whatever you please, master,” she says, hiding her excitement behind the façade of obedience.

Still kneeling in front of you, Irene eases you into her mouth. You place a hand on the back of her head and pull her towards you, forcing your cock deeper. She’s taken you deep plenty of times, so this is neither new nor difficult for her. “Hold it there and count to 10.” After finishing her count, Irene retreats until only your tip is in her mouth. “Very good—now do it 9 more times.”

Irene does as you command, doing each repetition passionately, much to your satisfaction. “That’s very good, love,” you make sure you don’t forget to praise her. You retreat from her wet mouth to let her breathe, and she promptly inhales sharply. “I-I hope I did well, sir.” You smile kindly. “Of course; you always do everything so well.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed while you wait for Irene to get herself together. “Anything else, master?” A lit bulb appears over your head. “Is it just me, love, or have your breasts gotten bigger?” She takes a quick look at herself. “I-I think they have indeed grown, master.” “They look so soft, don’t you think?” She nods to your question. “Would you like to touch them, sir?” “I have a better idea,” you say, “put them around my cock.”

Irene crawls towards you and places your cock right between her extra plump tits. “Like this, sir?” You moan in a low voice as your shaft grinds against her tits. “You—oh, fuck, you’re so good at every-fucking-thing.” Your wife blushes. “I aim to please, master.” “Oh, trust me, I’m very pleased right now, love.”

Much to your pleasure, Irene presses her chin against her chest and catches your tip with her mouth every time it pokes through her tits. You pet her head gently. “Good fucking job, baby—fuck, I’m about to bust.” “Please, give me your cum, master.” Irene moves her tits faster, eager to have your first load of the day.

You throw your head back and close your eyes as semen spurts out of the tip of your cock, landing all over her face and chest. “Oh my, very thick,” she comments. “I love how you taste, master; your diet works well for me too, you know.” You chuckle. “Good to know, baby.”

You invite Irene to lie down in bed with you. “You haven’t cum yet.” “Yes, I have; I told you I touched myself a lot today.” You get your tie from the messy pile of clothes. “Hands above your head, please.” She puts her hands together above her head, and you tie them together. “Are we ready?” Irene looks at you nervously. “Please have mercy, master; I’ve had a lot of orgasm today.” “That wasn’t my doing, was it?”

Irene gasps in shock when she feels your hand on her little nub. “Sensitive much?” “Please, master.” “Please what, baby?” “I need to cum again, master—make me cum with your hands, please.” “Well, since you asked so nicely.” You use one hand to stimulate her nub and use the other to play with her tits, going fast and fervent right from the gate.

In the moment of high stimulation, Irene accidentally kicks you in the head—how did that even happen? “That’s not nice.” “I-I—fuck, I’m so sorry, master. I didn’t mean it.” “That’s strike one, Miss Bae,” you warn. To punish her behavior, you increase the intensity of stimulation on her pussy, making her jolt around more. It’s fine if she were to kick you again; you have some more ideas in your head to get her back.

Your wife keeps moaning loudly and freely as her fourth orgasm looms ahead. “Master, master,” Irene begs for your attention, “I won’t last too long, master.” “Oh, is that so?” You plunge two fingers into her pussy and finger-fuck her, and Irene can’t help but moan, possibly until her voice disappears.

Your hand starts getting tired, but as timing has it, she’s also very, very close to orgasm. With an ear-piercing scream, Irene explodes: her legs are shaking violently, and her juice is coming out torrentially. “Very, very good, my love—you’re such a big bomb, aren’t you?” You free her hands and move to barrage her sweaty head with pecks. “We’ll wait until you’re relaxed before doing anything else, alright?”

Amid all this, you notice that you’re getting rock hard again. You start stroking your cock with the sight of your naked wife in front of you. Irene, in her exhausted state, looks at you. “Don’t waste your cum,” she says vaguely. “What do you mean?” “Put it somewhere in me, master,” she clarifies. You stop for a moment. “You’re very exhausted, love. I don’t want to burden you with more sex.” Your wife shakes her head. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

You take a position in between her legs, aiming your cock at her pussy in the process. You announce that you’re going in, and Irene moans weakly at the first contact. She tells you that you need to do all the work this, citing her exhaustion. “Never thought I’d hear such words from you; you’ve been tireless recently,” you say, earning a little chuckle from her.

You kiss her while your shaft goes in and out of her, dropping whatever charade you’ve been using these past few hours. “I love you, baby—I love you so fucking much.” “I-I love you more, hon—you’re the best for me.” Her warm words make you smile. “I’ll stay by your side until death do us part, my love.” “You have a deal.” You hug her tightly when your second load of the day enters her body.

“We’ll rest a bit, if that’s okay with you.” “Sure,” Irene says, “I can’t even stand up right now.”

-

You feel rapid taps on your chest, making you wake up crassly in surprise. When your eyes are open enough to provide vision, you see that your wife is seated in bed with Yeseo in her arms. “Yes, love?” Irene doesn’t answer your question and instead, starts breaking down in tears. “C-can you take care of her a little? I-I want to rest.”

You slap yourself as hard as you can for leaving your wife to sleep and, in turn, forcing her to tend to your child alone. “My goodness, I’m so sorry, love.” You open your hands to receive your daughter who is wrapped snug with a little blanket, and Irene immediately falls flat onto the bed—she’s still crying, though. “Go to sleep if you can, love; I’ll keep her safe.” “I’m such a bad mom,” she insults herself unnecessarily, “I can’t even stay up for my daughter.” “No, you’re not a bad mom—trust me, you’re not.” To offer her some peace, you tell her that you’ll be in the living room with Yeseo until morning. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You give her a peck as a parting gift.

“Yeseo-yah,” you whisper softly, “while mommy catches her breath, we’ll hang out in the living room, okay?” Having been born just a few weeks ago, Yeseo can’t respond much aside from a small head movement, which you’ll gladly accept as an answer. “We’re going to get along very well, aren’t we, sweetie?”

You turn on the TV to watch something in an attempt make sure you don’t fall asleep, and that’s when you see the time: 02:09 a.m. “We’re staying up late, sweetie—I hope you won’t make this a habit when you’re grown up,” you comment.

You make sure that the TV is muted so that it doesn’t startle your daughter when this video starts. “Oh my, look at that place, Yeseo-yah.” A shot of beautiful countryside scenery in Jeju steals your attention, and it’s very hard to resist the temptation to move there with your family. “What do you say we move there, sweetie?” Yeseo lets out a small squeal, and you guess that she’s interested in living there. “Aha, great minds think alike, hey?”

You remember your wife asking if the family can move to somewhere quieter to raise Yeseo in, and now that she’s actually here, you’re really contemplating the opportunity. In your head, you try to think about what work would be like if you lived in a place like Jeju, which is even farther from the big capital. Your brain suggests stepping down from your post and earning from dividends, which sounds like a sound idea. Irene had stepped down from her position of director of risk management two months before Yeseo was born, so it’s not the craziest idea to follow suit.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and mommy, Yeseo-yah.” You want to say that you’re willing to die for them, but Irene’s words enter your mind: why die for family, if you can be healthy and stay by their side instead? You laugh a little as you recall that exchange. “Mommy is an amazing person, sweetie. Sometimes I can’t believe I ended up with her.”

-

Irene wakes up around 6 hours later, feeling somewhat refreshed after a decent night’s sleep. The first thing she does is obviously to check up on her husband and daughter.

“Look at you: sleeping with Yeseo in your hands.” Irene unlocks her phone and takes a picture of you sleeping with your mouth wide open while Yeseo is chilling in your arms. She gets teary eyes looking at this scene in the living room.

She never had the idea of being childfree and has taken a more neutral stance about it, but at the same time, having Yeseo is quite the surprise turn of her life.

Irene quietly joins you on the sofa to not disturb your peace. “Love, love,” she whispers, trying to get you to wake up, “wake up, please; it’s time for work.” “Screw work,” she hears you say, “I’m stepping down.” She knows that you’re referring to your job. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” you reply again, “we’re moving to Jeju.”

Before getting too excited, Irene makes sure you’re awake. “Love, seriously, wake up.” The way you’re suddenly looking at her with eyes wide open makes her jump. “Yes?” “Were you serious about moving to Jeju?” You nod. “I’ve talked with Yeseo about it, and she agreed.” Irene bursts out laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “Sure, she did.” “Just ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

She plays along with your joke and asks Yeseo about her opinion on moving out of the big city, to which she replies by crying out loud, taking the two of you by surprise. “What, what, what,” you panic, “is she hungry? She’s probably hungry, right?” Irene unbuttons her pajama to expose a nipple Yeseo can latch on, so you hand your daughter over to her to be breastfed.

“Sorry, love, but these tits aren’t solely yours anymore,” Irene quips. You start laughing out loud, finding it difficult to stop. “What—what are you talking about? Why did you say it like that?” Your wife joins you in laughing. “I don’t know—it just felt right to say it.” You shake your head, highly amused by your wife’s odd statement. “It’s fine; I’m totally content with sharing them with Yeseo,” you clarify.

-

You take one last look at your house that is now empty. “We spent a fortune on this house, didn’t we, love?” You nod in agreement. “It’s crazy how much we bought this place for,” you reply. “I hope you won’t regret moving out,” Irene expresses her concern. You look at her right in the eyes while your hands are on either side of her waist. “We’re doing this for Yeseo—this is bigger than just the two of us, love.”

You walk with her outside towards the driveway, where Yeseo’s stroller is parked. “Isn’t she so cute?” “She is,” you say, “I swear I will do and give everything for you and her.” Irene puts on a big smile.

“We’ll give her a good life and a bright future, love.”

“We absolutely will.”

[ronwestbreeze]

you're gonna go far | 10

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. word count: 3.9k

read on AO3

You eventually decided to forget your body for now and leave it to Norm to take care of it. All you were focusing on was burying yourself further into work.

Which included going back to tending to your garden by planting and replanting a few seeds and veggies. Then there was checking up on the baby who was bound to be due soon, you’d spend the last few hours of the day with her until eventually, you forced yourself to sleep in the Avatar Compound.

That was your schedule throughout the next couple of days. Along with that, you took on more work to distract yourself such as restocking more link shacks and taking care of the land along with the other avatars. It was one of the many deals the humans made with the People in exchange for letting them stay instead of going into exile. It kept you busy whenever you didn’t need to tend to your garden. Any free time that you happened to have would’ve been filled up with something else to keep you busy.

The only peace you got was at the end of the day when you were in the tank room.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone, little one.” You said to her the first night you returned to Hell’s Gate. “I was unfortunately a bit distracted. But now I’m here and I’m never leaving you that long again. That is, until you’re born of course.”

There was a subtle shift in the stomach, bringing you a slight sense of comfort that she still remembered your voice. You didn’t know why it was comforting though. You wouldn’t be the one to hold her in the end. You probably wouldn’t be able to see her much once she was with her rightful parents…

Stop—stop.

Then there was foraging.

You enjoyed wandering around the forest to both discover new things and become well acquainted with the familiar routes. Going to your mother’s grave, finding the shack you had been trapped in, and even venturing further out just to see what was out there. Things you’ve missed.

It would’ve been nice if there was some comfort to all of it. But it made you forget. Made you think less. That was enough for now.

Until you eventually had to return to the clan’s base for Mo’at’s checkups. And not wanting to anger the Tsahik, you went anyway despite your reservations about it. All you could do was pray you didn’t run into Jake during the short visit.

So when you saw Tsu’tey with his brother inside her hut, you were strangely relieved which quickly made your stomach churn at the very thought.

His brother, Arvok, noticed you first as Mo’at was working on his abdomen. Surprisingly, he offered a white yet tired smile your way, “Ah, my savior the dreamwalker! I thought I was dreaming before.”

He ended up sitting up a bit as he spoke but Mo’at forced him to lie back down, “Hold still.”

“No need to thank me. It was nothing.” You mumbled, face impenetrably impassive.

“Nothing?! I heard you died because you saved me. How is that nothing?” Arvok sat up a little again only for his head to be forced back down by an irritated Tsahik.

You tried not to acknowledge the younger male’s words. Tsu’tey watched you for a beat before nudging Arvok’s shoulder gently, “Mawey, tsmukan.”

Not bothering to try and understand what he had said, you muttered again, this time sternly, “As I said, it was nothing—frankly, you should be more worried about yourself and the person who stabbed you.” Finding the new topic, you quickly steered the conversation in that direction. “By the way, who injured you in the first place—”

“That is none of your concern,” Tsu’tey said simply with his face somewhat screwed into his usual scowl.

You nodded expectantly, “Yeah, I thought so.”

Arvok then nudged his arm, hissing at him in  Na’vi. Tsu’tey didn’t appear happy but spoke again, “It is clan business. Something that you should not concern yourself with. You have been too involved enough as it is.”

“Ha!” Mo’at huffed earning a glare from the Olo’eyktan. She did not offer more and continued tending to Arvok.

“Well,” You frowned, clenching and unclenching your hands. By then you realized you were still standing while the other three were much closer to the ground. “I did get poisoned by this clan business but you’re right. I suppose it is none of my concern.”

At this, Mo’at finally stood and scowled at the two of you—more specifically Tsu’tey, “If this is how your interactions will be during this time, then I must ask you to leave and come back when you are ready to speak with her correctly.” She gestured for Arvok to sit up—albeit slowly—and dismissed him, “You must continue resting. It will be a long while before you can hunt again.”

“Yes, Tsahik.” With a grumble, Arvok slowly pushed to his feet, the wince clear on his youthful features. But he looked better. Better than you had expected someone to have been stabbed to look. Then again, Mo’at must’ve been working on him while you had been unconscious—dead—so he had time to get better.

He held his abdomen gingerly as he walked past you, sending you a quick nod before he finally left. “You!” At that, your attention turned back to Mo’at who was now pointing at the spot Arvok had been, “Sit. Now.”

Obediently you sunk to the floor and allowed Mo’at to start her work on you. Tsu’tey surprisingly didn’t leave and just lingered in the background much to your dismay. But your body wasn’t tense because of his presence. You were constantly glaring at the doorway, waiting for him to show up at that point, waiting with your guard up, waiting for yet another fight with that damned asshole.

“You shouldn’t be putting so much strain on this arm. You should be resting as well, let yourself get adjusted to your new body.” Mo’at instructed sternly as she applied new green mush to your arm.

You winced, both at the subtle sting in your arm and the easy way she mentioned your transference. As if it was another day. You couldn’t tell whether that pissed you off or made you quite relieved that at least someone was making a huge deal out of it. You’d already cried everything out of your system. Now you just wanted to allow yourself to feel numb.

Just until everything came back up again. If it ever would.

In the corner of your eye, Tsu’tey shifted onto the mat further behind you.

Mo’at pressed her hand against your arm, “Have you buried your former body yet?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “Why are you asking me that now?”

“Some questions will be hard to answer. It is the way of life.” She replied easily as she began unwrapping the bandage on your shoulder. “But it is okay to not be ready. Are you not read, dreamwalker?”

“Sure.” It was all you offered.

You left the body to Norm now. You made him swear not to tell you where he planned on putting it. And you were okay with that.

You were fine—you were fine—you were fine—

Eventually, after enduring a long silence—which you were quite comfortable with—Mo’at finished and stood. You moved to get up as well but she pressed her hand down on your shoulder and shook her head, “You speak with Olo’eyktan first. Then you leave.”

With that, she stepped out of the hut and you, after great reluctance, looked over your shoulder at Tsu’tey to find him slightly sitting hunched over on the ground, playing with something in his fingers.

You weren’t going to speak first. He wanted to speak with you. You would wait for him.

And eventually he did, “When Mo’at brought up the potential—that you could be our fourth mate—what did you think?”

The question startled you. It was the last thing you ever thought he’d ask. And the fact that it was Tsu’tey himself asking you this and not Neytiri or hell, even Jake.

But you remained on guard anyway, “Do you care?”

At that, he raised his gaze from whatever was in his hands to look at you, “Many people have made their opinions known about the matter. All but you. It’s as if your voice is drowned out by an unforgiving storm. I am asking you, dreamwalker. What do you think of it?”

For a moment you considered your words carefully. The conversation wasn’t adversary so you lowered your defense, only by a little bit. And as you thought about your answer, you realized you hadn’t even had the chance to think about what you truly thought about the idea of being their fourth mate. Neytiri had mentioned them looking for one long ago but you never imagined it would be you. You never imagined—

You never imagined you’d be loved.

And because of that, it was simply never in the cards for you. Even if there were moments where you—

“Why does it matter anyway?” You glared down at your fingers, watching as your nails dug into your palms. “Can you honestly imagine us as mates? I mean have you thought about it yourself? Can you even imagine Jake and I as mates? After the other night? Tsu’tey, I think the answer’s pretty clear.” You faced him, jaw tight and your voice quiet despite your steeled spine, “I’m too broken. And it would be cruel—I am not cruel and I’m not selfish enough to allow you three to drag yourselves to the bottom because of me. And that’s what I think. It’s quite simple actually—”

“To your human mind, yes.” Tsu’tey shook his head and stood, turning his back to you. He paced for a moment, eyes searching the room until he finally spoke. “But it is about duty. If Eywa has favored you then I must do my job as Olo’eyktan and honor that. If you are our fourth—”

“You don’t know that.”

“You are right, I do not!” He hissed but stopped, almost as if he were restraining himself.

You clenched your hands together again, glaring down at the matted floor. For a moment, the two of you were silent. This had to be the longest conversation you and Tsu’tey had ever had. And of course, it was about something heavy, something complicated, something difficult to even comprehend. Why couldn’t it have been something simple? Why couldn’t things be simple?

“I have failed my people.”

A beat went by and you looked up, wondering if that was all he had to say only to find his gaze on you. Intense and yellow. Unreadable yet uncomfortable to receive, nonetheless.

But his face was gentle as he spoke. His voice was quieter, “And in some ways, I feel I have failed our Great Mother. I feel I have failed my mates. My son. My unborn children. My mother. My brother. My father. Perhaps you do not understand it, dreamwalker, but it is my sworn duty to do what I must for my clan. To be the leader that they deserve. And I am not.” He stepped forward until he was standing in front of you and dropped something into your hands.

It was pretty. A handwoven string of beads and gems, almost too gorgeous to belong to someone like you. You held it limply in your hands, not wanting to touch it any further.

“I am not a good mate.” He continued, now his face unreadable. You weren’t really sure what yours looked like at the moment but you hoped it didn’t convey what you felt at the moment as he spoke.

Utter dread. Shock. And pity.

“If I had proposed to you, I would have thought that I had done right by the Great Mother.”

He said it so simply. Proposed? Tsu’tey? To you? How come he didn’t appear affected when he said these words? Why was it you that was struck frozen by this revelation?

Perhaps he was good at hiding it. Perhaps you were too.

Tsu’tey knelt in front of you and looked down at the string, his face still a mask. “I would take care of you, just as I do with my other mates. I would treat your children as my own, I would be okay with not being in love with you for the sake of duty.” Unconsciously, your fingers wrapped around the string as you took in his words. Very deliberate, very careful, very real. “But you would have said no. And I would be okay with that too. Because I cannot commit to my duty. Because I am a bad Olo’eyktan. And…” The words seemed difficult to spill out from his mouth but he forced it out anyway. “And I am not cruel enough either, dreamwalker.”

For a moment, you did not say a thing. For a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming. For a moment, you wondered if there could be a world where you and Tsu’tey weren’t hostile to each other like now. You wondered if there could be a world where you’d look at him as something more.

Because in the end, you appreciated his honesty. Frankly, that was one of the best things you liked about the Na’vi. They weren’t like humans. They didn’t hold anything back because they didn’t see a reason to.

And it made your next words clear and firm, “Your search for worthiness isn’t on me, Tsu’tey. And a proposal definitely wouldn’t have been able to fix that.” You frowned and glanced down at the string and then back at him, “That wasn’t a proposal, right?”

Tsu’tey stood then, his tail swishing behind him. “I suppose it was. In a way.” He looked at you expectantly, “And your answer, dreamwalker?”

He held a look that told you he already knew your answer. You stood as well and handed him back the beaded string with yet another impassive mask, “No. That is my answer. But you knew that.”

Wordlessly, he took the beads back, his gaze never leaving it. You stood there for a moment, feeling exhausted once more. And again, Tsu’tey allowed himself to appear the same.

Too tired for this world. Too tired to carry on.

You steeled yourself away and stood straighter, “So you agree. This isn’t what Eywa wanted.”

At that, his ears twitched, “We do not know what she wants. It has always been that way. And it will remain so.”

Nodding, you moved past him and toward the entrance, only to stop short. Your brain was muddled, your emotions were tangled, and yet you spoke clearly. “If your deity is as great as you all say she is, then I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to suffer.”

Without waiting for a response, you left. Not daring to look back. Not daring to ponder questions you’ve never thought about until now.

Enough. Enough of all of it.

“Any day now.” You mumbled, staring bleakly down at the table as Norm was checking the ultrasound. It was weird being several inches taller than him now when in human form he had quite the height over you, “We just have to watch her closely now.”

Norm nodded, “Good, good. That’s great news. I’ll let the parents know. You good staying here for a bit?”

“Always.” You watched over the tank as Norm left the room. Tucking the tablet under your arm, you placed your hand against the class, “Can’t wait to meet you, finally. I wonder if you’re gonna be as quiet when you’re born.”

The silence was suffocating, and So were the tears. They had finally come.

God, you were so angry.

Was this really all you were worth? An obligation? Something so worthless that you needed empty protection? Was that all they saw in you? Was that all you’ll ever be to them?

You sank into a nearby chair, allowing the silent tears to fall.

It wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to be the outsider—the intruder. All you wanted was to save a bunch of trees and now you’re here. A stain. An inconvenience. Blood red on a perfect white canvas.

This baby girl didn’t deserve someone as shattered as you. She deserved the loving parents that claimed her from the beginning. Protected and kept away from your storm.

“I hope this world doesn’t hurt you, little one.” You wiped at your eyes, beaten and bruised already.

Norm eventually came back moments later. You hadn’t gotten up from the chair. He saw your dried tears and cleared his throat, “Jake said he’s already on his way, um,” He appeared careful and gentle as he spoke, “I’ll take over if you need a break.”

“You don’t have to.” Was your attempt at a protest.

But he shook his head adamantly, “No, I will. You’ve—it’s been pretty rough for you. It’s the least I can do for…”

You frowned as he avoided your gaze.

“I could’ve done better—more to save you—”

“Spellman, you're fine,” You shook your head and stood. “I don’t blame you—couldn’t if I wanted to. You’re the only one that has my back here. Well, maybe besides Neytiri.”

“Are you going then?” He asked as you walked passed him.

“Yeah, I’m gonna try to cool off. Maybe go on a walk.”

“You sure? Don’t get another chunk of your skin bitten off again. Or poisoned.”

“Ha-ha.” You responded dryly.

Deciding you wanted fresh air, you left out of Hell’s Gate and went into the forest.

You had marked the places you passed with small white strips in the past, tying them to smaller branches. It allowed you to venture further away from the base this time. And by the time the sun began to set, you found yourself at the waterfall, the same one you were at with Tsu’tey before.

And you stayed there. This time you went toward the waterfalls’ mist surrounding you the closer you got to the waterfall itself. The water moved up toward your waist until you were practically floating above water.

For a while, you stayed like this. Until night came. You stayed like this until your hair stuck to the back of your neck.

Eventually, you passed through the waterfall. Breathing out a long and delicate sigh.

These waters relaxed you. These waters made you forget.

Once you reached the other side of the waterfall, there was a rock large enough for you to hoist yourself on. And sit there. You didn’t know how long you’d stay there and you didn’t care. The world outside of this place didn’t matter to you. For a while, you just wanted to forget. To become stone.

Half alive and half buried in the ground.

That is until the world called for you to come back. Until the world wrapped its grip on you and yanked you back into reality.

Until something whizzed past your face, cutting some of the strands from your unbraided hair.

And now across from you was a spear lodged into the stone. Whoever had thrown it had great strength. Whoever had thrown had meant to kill you.

Instantly, you froze. Heart pounding against your chest, blood rushing to your ears.

“Demon!” AN unfamiliar voice shouted further away—possibly on land away from the waterfall. Quickly, you lowered yourself on the rock. Most of the water from the mountain and mist hid you, so there was a chance that the attacker couldn’t see you. “Come out and I kill you!”

You didn’t move from the rock. From what little you could hear, the voice spoke in Na’vi as if he was giving orders to someone. Which meant this guy wasn’t alone. The many splashes coming toward you only confirmed that.

As quietly as possible, you slid off the rock and toward the spear, yanking it out of the wall with what little strength you had left. A shadow then passed you as you ducked behind the rock just as a figure stepped through the waterfall. He was wearing strange armor and his war paint was different from what you had seen the Omatikaya wear. Which also told you that these warriors that surrounded you were from a different clan. A clan you were sure that weren’t reluctant in having to kill the likes of you for being human.

 The warrior had an arrow pointed and ready. Fortunately, he hadn’t seen you yet.

But before you could take your chance at escape, a quicker shadow to the right dived through the falls, aiming another spear at you.

It was so quick, you hadn’t heard the other warrior coming and barely dodged the sharp end of her spear as you slid off the rock and into the deep waters.

The spear didn’t slow and sunk into the water with you. You swam away from the two, going deeper underwater until you weren’t able to be spotted. You continued swimming away from the small enclave and made it to the other side of the waterfalls.

Praying that the mist continued to cover you up, you came up for air and climbed onto a nearby rock. You still had the discarded spear and gripped it in your hands as you hopped onto another rock—not even stopping when you heard a bunch more splashes and shouts in Na’vi coming toward you.

Once you were sure they were far enough away from you, you continued hopping on the rocks until you finally reached land. But you didn’t run, knowing that it would make too much noise. Instead, you clutched the spear to your chest and slinked into the forest, just as how Neytiri had done it when the two of you would travel through the forest together.

Be one with the forest and all that shit.

God, you couldn’t catch one break. First Jake, then Tsu’tey, and now this? It was like the universe hated you for some reason.

As quickly and as quietly as possible, you put some distance between you and the waterfall. When you got far enough, you ducked behind a thick tree, pressing your back against it while taking in shaky breaths. You kept the spear close to your chest as if it were a shield while praying that you had been quiet enough to escape.

Something sharp pressed against the side of your neck, instantly squashing any hope you had left.

“You are loud, demon.” She spoke in Na’vi. It was one of the only sentences you recognized since Neytiri used to say it to you all the time in the beginning.

You remained still, staring at the warrior in the corner of your eye.

She took the spear from your hands and tossed it to the ground, not lowering hers.

“Where is your clan, sawtute?”

Okay, she spoke a little English. Which meant this clan had lived around humans at some point,.

“I don’t have a clan.” You gritted out shakily, “And I’m not trespassing—”

“Demon! All of you!” She hissed, the tip pressing further into your skin. “I kill you and bring your head back to my clan. The rest of you demons will follow!”

You glanced toward the spear on the ground, trying to figure out how fast you’d have to move to get it and escape.

But you nor the warrior didn’t get a chance to do anything as an arrow flew through the trees and hit the warrior in her shoulder.

She stumbled back, you took the chance and grabbed the spear from the ground.

As the warrior fell to her knees, your savior stood further away behind her. Bow raised with another arrow pointed at her.

You breathed out shakily, “It’s you.”

(i'm not adding any more people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!! Harry Potter or Percy Jackson please!!

a continuation of 1 2 3

There's something off about Percy.

Actually, Thalia should rephrase - there are several things extremely off about Percy. It's not worth repeating, and barely worth saying, because they're all just that obvious.

They're sitting around a fire in the middle of the woods, Luke cooking the several fish that Percy had managed to spear onto his sword, which was ridiculous for an entirely different set of reasons.

"Are you a god?" she asks suspiciously.

He makes a choking sound that she thinks might be a laugh and he gives her a grin that she refuses to be charmed by. Luke is doing that enough for all of them. "Oddly, not the first time I've been asked that, but I'm just as much a demigod as you are. My mother's mortal."

"Present tense," Annabeth says, her little face screwed up into a scowl. "She's not dead, then. Is she mean?"

"Annabeth," she and Luke say at the same time. One day they're going to teach this girl tact.

Percy shakes his head, leaning back on his hands, completely unphased by Annabeth's directness. That's a point in his favor. But only a very little one. "Nah, she's great. Best mom there is. But she's mortal, and I'm," he gestures to himself.

A demigod as powerful as Percy must attract a lot of monsters, ones that he can apparently deal with, but would be deadly to his mother. Thalia feels a twinge of sympathy. It's one thing to have the messed up family dynamics that she, Luke, and Annabeth do, and it's another to have a mother that he loves and cares for and who he can't be around with endangering her life. "How long have you been on your own?"

His gaze goes distant and maybe she could learn some tact herself, but she thought it was a simple question, just factual and not personal. "I haven't lived with my mom full time since I was twelve, but I wasn't exactly on my own."

"Camp," Luke says, a hardness to his gaze.

Percy's lips twitch. "Chiron doesn't know who I am. But almost everyone who trained me did come from Camp Half-Blood."

"Including who taught you how to use a sword?" Luke asks. Thalia knows he takes pride in his swordsmanship, and she also knows that Percy is better than he is. Part of inviting him along was probably to get Percy to teach him, which Thalia can stomach a bit better than Luke getting distracted by a pretty face.

Percy goes quiet again, gazing at Luke with an expression that makes Thalia shift closer to Annabeth. "Yeah. They were from camp too."

[bosbas]

Chapter 12: I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.5k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, insane amounts of pining, idiots in love!!, in their friends era... or are they?, the slow burn is slowww burningggg i'm so sorry

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: I am BACK sorry for my absence I promise I won't leave for that long again <3

July 12, 1816 – It seems that the summer heat is not the only thing causing a stir within the ton. Recently, the Montclair and Bridgerton families have been seen in each other’s company more frequently than usual. Could there be a more permanent union on the horizon?

Lord Philippe Montclair and Mr. Colin Bridgerton have been spotted in deep conversation on multiple occasions, discussing matters that appear far more serious than the usual lighthearted banter one would expect. Indeed, whispers suggest that their discussions have involved future business ventures and mutual interests, signaling a burgeoning camaraderie between the two gentlemen.

Regardless, the warmth between the two families is palpable, leading this author to wonder if we shall soon hear the sound of wedding bells. Stay vigilant, dear readers. Though no one shall stay more vigilant than this author.

As you walked home from the modiste with Eloise by your side, you noted the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves high atop the trees surrounding you. You had suggested a shortcut back to your respective homes, opting to go through the park rather than the busy streets, and you were mostly thankful for the silence of the greenery around you. Mostly.

“So, will you be joining us for dinner tonight?” asked Eloise expectantly, gently nudging your shoulder with hers.

You groaned and screwed your eyes shut, already dreading the conversation, and the evening, to come. “Yes, Mother has been quite insistent that I go. I think she’d kill me if I asked to stay home one more time.”

“I didn’t know we were that bad,” joked Eloise, only a hint of resentment in her voice.

“Not at all!” you rushed to defend yourself, cringing at the fact that one of your dearest friends was upset with you. “You know that it’s just… Well, I’m sure Colin told you everything. I really can’t bear to face him.”

In all honesty, Eloise’s annoyance was warranted. You had spent the past two weeks avoiding the Bridgertons at all costs, only seeing Eloise at balls or in your own home. The only reason you had gone to Bridgerton House today was because you and Eloise were leaving immediately afterward to go get new dresses, and you were certain you wouldn’t run into Colin.

Not only were you still terribly embarrassed by your assumptions of Colin's character, but you also found yourself strangely drawn to him. Now that nothing prevented you from actually liking him, and now that you knew that he was not a horrible person like you had previously thought, you were in a bit of a conundrum. Colin Bridgerton had charmed you, and you knew that if you let yourself, you could very well start to grow feelings for him.

And that wouldn’t do. No, it absolutely wouldn’t. For starters, the two of you had never managed to get along anyway, so you had no idea how you would even live in relative peace were you to have a future. Even so, your father would never approve, no matter what Lady Whisteldown was alluding to. And so Colin was out of the question as a husband or really anything other than a friend.

But while you had been meticulously maneuvering through your social outings to avoid her family, Eloise had slowly been losing patience. She had tolerated whatever had been going on between you and Colin at the beginning of the season, but it was high time that you stopped acting so childish. Especially after Anthony and Kate’s ball, where the two of you had already apologized for your misunderstanding and subsequent feud.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen him since that night,” scolded Eloise, crossing her arms in a huff. Then, in a humorous tone, she added, “He doesn’t actually look that bad with a broken nose if that’s what you’re worried about. The swelling has gone down considerably.”

Not able to help yourself, you let out a small snort and smiled at your friend. “No, it’s not that. I’m just so embarrassed. Oh heavens, even just thinking about it I can feel my face getting hot. He did tell you about it, right?”

“Yes,” responded Eloise, giving you a very pointed look. “He was very excited about the fact that you didn’t actually hate him. He wouldn’t stop talking about it for two days. Though now I wonder if that really is the case, given your behavior.”

 “Oh, no,” you groaned, putting your head in your hands in desperation.

“He was quite embarrassed as well, Y/N,” Eloise reminded you gently. “I don’t see why you can barely stand to be in the same room as him even now.”

“I just-” you started, finding it difficult to explain why you had been so against seeing him, or any of his family, really, after the most recent ordeal with Lord Barlow.

But Eloise wasn’t letting you get away with it any longer. She slowed down her previously brisk walk, looking straight into your eyes as she gestured for you to continue.

“I just wasted so much time and energy fighting with him and I’m so ashamed that your family saw that side of me. I didn’t even know I could be that unpleasant! And to make matters worse, it was all for nothing since I was completely in the wrong.”

“Not completely,” Eloise mused. Colin had been quite kind to you in his retelling of the events, and Eloise was inclined to believe her brother’s account.

With a sigh, your friend turned to face you. “I wish you had told me what you thought of him because I would have either helped you realize your mistake or helped you kill him.”

You laughed again, shaking your head as you realized how lucky you were to have Eloise in your life. Linking arms with her, you patted her hand as you explained, “I was just terrified of the recourse. My parents were so insistent that I ‘act ladylike’ that I was scared of revealing I had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men. And besides, I didn’t want to ruin your perception of your brother.”

“Well, regardless, it will all be resolved at dinner tonight, seeing how you’ll be in attendance.”

A soft sigh escaped your lips.

“I certainly hope so.”

---

As you walked into the dining room, a soft smile on your lips as you spoke with Kate, Colin’s breath was stolen from his body. He already hadn’t been expecting to see you, already growing accustomed to having you avoid him, but seeing you look as beautiful as you did now was completely doing him in.

“Y/N,” he whispered from across the room, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

Feeling an elbow digging into his ribs, Colin turned to see Benedict, smirking as he watched his younger brother. “Might I suggest pulling yourself together if you don’t want to scare her away again?”

“Be quiet,” hissed Colin, but he ran a hand through his hair to regain his composure anyway.

“Benedict!” you greeted, delighted at finally seeing him for so long. “And Colin!” you added, hoping your voice didn’t reveal the nervousness you were feeling.

“Lovely to see you again,” said Benedict brightly, squeezing your shoulder.

Then, feigning some obligation or another, the second Bridgerton slipped out of the dining room to join the rest of your families, leaving you alone with Colin. Benedict had been terribly obvious, but the resulting awkwardness that enveloped you and Colin kept you from noticing his brash exit.

“I’m happy you’re here,�� Colin spoke, almost timidly. Then, speaking very quickly, he added, “I was fairly confused when I didn’t hear from you for two weeks, but I didn’t want to call on you because we agreed to just be friends and I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression. Though now that I think about it, that might have been the decent thing to do."

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, Colin looked down at the floor as he waited for your response.

“Not at all!” you rushed out, wanting to reassure him. “It was my fault entirely. I apologize for not speaking with you sooner, I was just a tad embarrassed, as you can probably imagine.”

Colin’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled, feeling at ease now that he was certain you didn’t spontaneously hate him again.

“You were embarrassed? I rather think I should be the one feeling that way,” he laughed. “I still find it hard to believe you could have thought I was that... horrid for so long.”

You put your hands over your face and shook your head. “I can’t believe it either,” you groaned.

Sensing you were getting worked up again, Colin instinctively put a comforting arm around your shoulders, pressing you to him. “No, it’s quite alright. I promise I was just…”

Then, suddenly realizing just how close he was holding you to him, Colin stepped away quickly. Instead of apologizing and drawing even more attention to his overstepping, he settled for clearing his throat awkwardly, clasping his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out to you again.

“It was all in jest, I swear,” promised Colin, realizing he had never finished his earlier sentence.

Before you could respond, Violet walked into the dining room, followed by your family.

“Hello, Y/N!” she greeted you, reaching over to put a hand on your forearm in greeting. “I’m thrilled you’re here! We missed you last week.”

You smiled gratefully back at her, internally chastising yourself for ever wanting to avoid this wonderful family. All because you were scared of facing Colin, who, as it turned out, had a singular talent for making you feel at ease.

“You’re seated here, next to Colin,” indicated Violet, gesturing toward a seat near the end of the dining table.

“Oh,” you breathed out, not expecting to have to be in such proximity to him for the whole night. Realizing you had been impossibly rude, you added, “Thank you very much, I’m sure we’ll have lots to catch up on.”

Four courses later, you were having the time of your life. You were sitting between Francesca and Colin, and both had been keeping you endlessly entertained as you ate. Speaking to Colin came so naturally that you wondered how the two of you had ever managed to fight so much without ever having a proper conversation, save for one or two. It seemed impossible now, the forgone tension between you. Especially when you had to actively ensure that you were talking to Francesca, too, rather than just Colin. But he was just so easy to talk to, and you simply had so much in common that it was proving quite difficult to focus on anything else.

“Are you excited for your season next year?” you asked Francesca, leaning away from Colin so you could concentrate on speaking to her.

“I suppose I’m looking forward to having something of my own,” she responded after chewing thoughtfully. “An experience of my own, that is. It’ll be quite the luxury, especially being from a family as large as mine. Did you ever feel that way?”

You hummed, thinking back on your season. “I felt that way at the beginning, to be sure. But having seen my older sister’s fairytale romance and having a season that was nowhere near that had me wishing for a season similar to hers in the end.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that-” Francesca started, having forgotten your ordeal with Lord Barlow.

You waved her apology away, smiling warmly at her. “Not to worry, I’m quite well-adjusted now. Perhaps next season will be better, though I’m not sure how unique it will be since I’m heading back to Spain, just as Isabelle did.”

“Are you really leaving?” asked Francesca, partially in shock that you were leaving after only one season. “But-”

“Y/N does,” came a loud voice next to you.

Confused, you turned around to face Colin, who seemed to have gone quite red in the face.

“I hadn’t realized I was speaking that loud,” he said bashfully, nervous now that most everyone at the table was looking at him expectantly. “Anthony was only talking about how I use the night sky to navigate my crew when I travel, and I was pointing out that you are quite knowledgeable in that area as well,” he explained, looking at you with wide, uncertain eyes.

Anthony, who had been at the other side of the table, was struggling to contain his laughter.

“I had no idea Y/N knew so much about the stars,” commented Violet, looking directly at Colin as she did so, an unreadable expression on her face.

Highly uncomfortable at being the center of attention for this particular reason, the third Bridgerton internally cringed and gulped his wine, hoping to wash down some of the discomfort as he did so.

“We’ve only talked about it a few times, but she does seem to be quite the expert,” he said finally.

Feeling charitable, Louis chimed in to change the subject, “I know I’ve been victim to her hour-long lectures about which constellations are visible at any given point in time. Were you thinking of traveling soon, Anthony?”

Letting out a sigh of relief now that the attention was no longer fixed on his thinly veiled infatuation with you, Colin cast a fleeting smile in your direction, eager to gauge your reaction.

But you only smiled amusedly at him, snickering as he gripped his fork and knife tightly in his hands with leftover tension.

“Tell Louis I say thank you,” he muttered.

You shook your head. “It’ll get to his head,” you argued.

And Colin’s smile in return was so charming, so roguish, and so handsome that you were tempted to forget your agreement to be friends right then and there.

Ah, that was why you had been avoiding him, you reminded yourself. Colin was far too charismatic for his own good. For your own good, rather.

But you had to remind yourself of what your parents –and society– expected you to find. A man with a title and a fortune. And that was decidedly not a Mr. Colin Bridgerton.

Clearing your throat, you turned away from Colin to face Francesca again.

Friends, you reminded yourself. You were friends with Colin.

---

The Montclair brothers sat in their father’s study, brandy in hand as they so often did after evening dinners ran long and they needed to wind down. Supper with the Bridgertons had been lovely, but the boys had important matters to discuss with their father. Well, important matters to you. But important nonetheless.

“Que pensez-vous de Colin?” asked Jacques, trying to seem nonchalant (What do you think of Colin?).

“Bah, il est assez gentil, mais il est vraiment amoureux,” came your father’s gruff response before he took a long sip of brandy, rubbing his temples (Well, he’s nice enough, but he’s definitely in love).

“Quoi? Amoureux de qui?” pressed Philippe, feigning innocence as if this wasn’t exactly what the brothers wanted Lord Montclair to notice (What? In love with who?).

“De Y/N, bien sûr,” replied your father, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world (With Y/N, of course).

That was the tipping point for Louis, who apparently was the only person in the world who wasn't instantly attuned to Colin’s feelings. Forgetting why he and his brothers were so eager to meet with their father and talk about Colin, the youngest Montclair brother set his glass of brandy down in exasperation.

“Putain, comment tout le monde a pu voir ça?” (Damnit, how did everyone else see that?)

---

Laughing quietly at a comment Colin had whispered in your ear, you found yourself truly enjoying a ball for the first time in a very long time. Now that you were past all the hatred and subsequent awkwardness, it was lovely to spend an evening with Colin by your side.

This might have been the first ball you had been to that you hadn’t spent a considerable amount of time sulking at. It was, to say the very least, quite freeing.

Not to mention the absolute entertainment that was watching the third Bridgerton rush from ambitious mama to eligible lady and back to another mama as he attempted to please everyone. You had only been here an hour and he’d already danced three times and spoken with at least four women you knew for a fact he had no interest in.

“Ah, Mr. Bridgerton, it’s lovely to see you again,” came a voice behind you.

Both of you turned around to face Miss Anne McCall, who was looking at Colin expectantly. Amused, you raised your eyebrows at him, too. You could bet your family’s entire fortune that Colin had promised her a dance at some point tonight.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, briefly touching your arm. “Excuse me just a moment, Y/N.”

You nodded, unable to respond because you were momentarily overtaken by the feel of his hand on you. An unfamiliar warmth radiated to you, and you almost stumbled as you tried to regain your bearings.

Looking out across the ballroom, you spotted Colin smiling and laughing as he danced with Miss McCall, who was looking absolutely enamored as he spun her around. You smiled to yourself, glad that your rivalry with him had been resolved and you could simply appreciate the fact that he was a lovely person. Maybe some night you would be the one he was spinning around the ballroom.

Shaking your head to will the mental image away, you made your way to the other side of the ballroom, needing to clear your head.

However, a hand gripped yours and you turned around, surprised. Colin’s relieved eyes met yours and he pulled you closer to him, though still allowing an appropriate distance between you two in case anyone was observing.

“A turn about the ballroom?” he suggested, eyes pleading.

Once again taken aback by how aware you were of his skin on yours, you could only nod, allowing him to place your hand in the crook of his elbow.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I think I’ve spoken to too many people tonight. If I have to laugh politely at another conversation I’m certain I will dissolve right where I'm standing.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, squeezing his arm. “You don’t have to do it, you know?”

“Do what?”

“That,” you said, gesturing toward the dancefloor full of couples waltzing. “You’re allowed to say no.”

Colin frowned, thoughtful. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”

“Why not?” you pressed.

“I- I don’t know, I suppose. It feels like it’s what I should be doing. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Hmm, not particularly. I’ve said no to plenty of men wanting to dance with me, you included,” you nudged him playfully.

“That doesn’t really count, though. Because you’re… you. It doesn’t matter if you say no to every single man asking you to dance.”

“Doesn’t it? You’re also you. So, it doesn’t matter either.”

“No, I mean that…I don’t know what I mean. I suppose that people would still like you even if you said no a lot.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you took in what Colin was saying.

“People would still like you if you said no every once in a while, you know? I know I would.”

Colin shook his head. “It’s still different!” Then, softening his voice, he added, “Because you have… Or rather, because I just don’t have any remarkable qualities beyond people finding me charming or affable.”

“Colin,” you scolded, rolling your eyes. Then, seeing that he was quite serious, your expression sobered. “Of course you have value beyond how much people like you. My word, Colin. You are so clever and so well-traveled. You can orient yourself on a map at first glance, and I doubt you would ever get lost at sea. You know most constellations visible from London, and I don’t even know how many beyond that.”

“Alright, I see your point,” he laughed, secretly wishing you would continue speaking forever. Colin was practically preening at your praise, and he so desperately wished you could want him the way he wanted you. “What do you suggest I do at balls, then, if I'm not dancing with every single member of the ton?”

 “Well, you could start by only dancing with people you want to dance with.”

“In that case, would you like to dance with me?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” insisted Colin. Then, after a pause, he added, “Friends can dance together," a twinge of regret in his chest as he said the words.

But that seemed to placate you, and you placed your hand in his. “I suppose they do.”

With a shaky breath, you prepared for the next few minutes you would spend in Colin’s arms, not quite sure you or your heart were ready to look into his mesmerizing eyes and not fall completely head over heels for him.

But one smile from him, and you were completely at ease. One dance couldn’t hurt, right?

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

I no longer have a taglist for this fic, but turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!

[ordowrites]

fatherhood

hopping on the hybrid bandwagon i'm sorry but it's not entirely the focus i just wanted to write diluc being a dad. just a small snippet in the day of the life.

cw: none, mdni, minors do not interact, sfw, fluff, afab reader, hybrid!reader (fox), family fluff. diluc is desperately in love with reader and vice versa, they have a child. diluc is a total girl dad.

Diluc knew he was screwed when he first held your guys daughter in his arms - the way she looked up at him with those eyes of hers and small hands reaching to grip his finger and a soft coo escaping her, he knew, right then, he was screwed. He didn't know how to hold her and Adelinde had to gently guide him - elevate her head, cradle her, if she cries, don't panic.

She gotten his hair but she inherited your ears and your tail, and soon enough, that personality trait of yours that's ever so curious and playful. While she has a name - Aelia - he still only really calls her little one, or his sunshine because it feels right, correct, to only call her those things. You smile when he holds her, tucked under his arm as she blabbers away about some interesting thing she saw in the vineyard or stories her little imagination makes up. And Diluc engages with her because he adores her, and her innocent existence. When he wears a little tiara on his head because she demands him to, all you can do is stifle a giggle and a head shake.

Diluc knew he was screwed when he's with the maids, in the kitchen, helping them with some cooking and he sees a familiar poke of ears from behind the island. Little fingers grope about until they find what they're looking for and he frowns a bit. It's an hour to dinnertime and she's sneaking cookies. Since Aelia was born, there'd been an uptick of baked sweets available in the manor.

Well, actually before that - your pregnancy cravings always consisted of some sort of cookie or another and all he could do was give you what you wanted and needed. And now, they're kept on hand for his mischievous daughter whose sweet tooth matches his own.

"Aelia," he says, his voice firm. "What are you doing, my little one?"

A soft giggle and his heart flutters. "Nuffin'."

"Oh? Doesn't sound like nothing." Diluc answers as he watches her little hand reach up again to search around for another cookie, that he gently slides over. He shouldn't be giving her these things before dinner, considering all of your warnings for him to not do so. A tuft of red hair meets his eyes with those little triangular ears that poke out, before finally, her entire face.

"Hi, daddy." There's some crumbs and melted chocolate on her face. "'m just sayin' hi."

"Oh? And what about the cookie in your hand?" She looks at it, faking the best shocked look she could. "Sunshine, we have an hour before dinner."

"'s for you." Aelia answers, after a moment of consideration, holding it out to him.

"Oh? And here it looked like you were about to eat it yourself." He watches as Aelia's expression falls for a moment.

"Please, daddy? I want a cookie."

At her doe eyed looked, small pout, Diluc found himself agreeing to letting her have another cookie. "Just don't tell your mother." he gently tells her. "Or Addie, okay?"

Aelia's grin is victorious and Diluc knew, right then, how right you were about him being wrapped around her tiny finger as she reaches to be picked up. With her perched on his hip, he leaves the kitchen to go find you.

When he finds you outside, amongst the vineyards, his face lights up as Aelia waves at you.

"She's a handful." Diluc murmurs as he leans in and kisses you in greeting. Of course, Aelia gives you big, sloppy kisses on the cheeks.

"Of course she is," you hum as you offer to take her from his arms, but Aelia seems to choose to latch onto him. So instead, you give her a kiss on the top of her head. "She is your daughter. I think you enable her too much."

"I do not." He protests. "I merely encourage her to be curious and try new things."

You're brushing some crumbs off of your daughters face, giving a soft laugh. "Sure, sure." A pause. "Seeing you with our daughter makes me want us to have another kid."

"Well if you're offering..." Diluc says, grinning a bit. "I won't say no."

[appocalipse]

Kiss prompt #9 with Eddie? Por favor?

anything for you. ♥

#9: "I think I deserve a kiss."

Eddie is charming your mother. You can tell even from this distance, sitting on the small step in front of your porch while you watch them.

He's been squatting with a some sort of screwdriver near that lawnmower for about 10 minutes, poking it, tightening screws, taking out parts of it you can't even name.

His hands are dirty with what you suppose it's oil, but he doesn't seem to care. He's so focused that he brings the back of his hand to his face and leaves a stain on his cheek without even realizing it.

You smile.

He looks up from time to time, to sneak a glance your way or when your mother talks to him, and then the two of them laugh amicably. After a few more moments, Eddie straightens up the lawnmower and turns it on, demonstrating that, as if by magic, it now works. Your mom thanks Eddie politely, then says something that makes him, you realize, look embarrassed as he stands up, wiping his hands on a grey cloth.

Embarrassed, Eddie? It's an unusual occurrence, to say the least.

It doesn't last long.

She says something else to him, insists. Eddie vehemently denies with small smile. You wonder if she's offering him money.

Eddie, very helpful, turns the mower off and puts it back in the garage.

Your mom touches your shoulder affectionately when she passes you on her way back inside the house, offering a smile that you're not sure you understand. Maybe it's best to not even try to understand.

Eddie comes right behind her, looking very pleased with himself.

The step is too small for two people, but he sits down next to you anyway, his knee lightly bumping yours. "I think I just won your mother over," he announces, and it's probably true; that lawnmower had been abandoned in your garage for the past few months, all but useless. He'll sure be in your mother's good graces for a long time.

"And why would you need to win her over?"

He bumps your shoulder with his. "Oh, you know, for when we decide to get married."

Eddie has no filter. You shouldn't even get flustered by this kind of comment at this point.

You laugh without looking at him, although you sound a little more nervous than you'd like. "So fixing a lawnmower is worth my hand in marriage?" you ask in mock seriousness.

"No, but it's a start. Don't you think I deserve, say…" he puts a strand of hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing your temple. "…a kiss? I think I deserve a kiss. Sounds fair enough, doesn't it?"

Now you have no choice but to look at him. This space really is too small for two people, and the proximity between is slowly melting away what little common sense you have left.

"You can ask her," you chuckle, pointing to the front door despite knowing that, of course, Eddie wasn't talking about your mother, "but I think my dad won't like the idea, you know."

Eddie grins when you look away. He can read you like a book.

"Don't be mean, sweetheart."

"You're the one being mean."

He leans closer, and you can feel his breath on your cheek, the tip of his nose almost touching the side of your face, hoping you turn to look at him too. "Me? I'm just trying to make things clear." He pauses, and you can practically hear him thinking. "Maybe I should try a different approach."

You tilt your head, curious. "Like what?"

"Like..." Eddie hesitates for a moment, gathering his courage, "…you could go out with me."

You blink.

"Don't look so surprised," he says quickly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I can do dates. Fancy dinner, movies, the whole shebang. Just give me a chance."

You can't help but laugh, turning your head to look into his eyes. It's true, at first glance, he's not exactly the most romantic person you know, with his tattoos, his love for heavy metal and his old van that always smells like cheap cologne, cigarettes and leather. But none of that matters, because you can't deny that there's something there between the two of you, something that you've been forcing yourself to ignore for far too long.

The oil stain is still right there, on his cheek. Without thinking too much, you reach up and rub it off slowly with the pad of your thumb. "I don't need fancy," you murmur, because it's true. You don't care about the glitz and the glamor, not when it comes to Eddie.

His breath hitches when you touch him, like he's not used to anyone being this gentle with him, like he's forgotten what it feels like.

You can feel the warmth of his skin through your fingers, the rough stubble of his beard prickling your palm. You wonder if he knows how soft you've become around him, how easily you let him affect you.

"Really?" he whispers, eyes wide and unblinking, as if he's afraid he's imagining this.

You nod, still rubbing his cheek even though the stain is already long gone. You can feel him relaxing into the touch, leaning into you just a little more. It's like he's been waiting for this, for someone to finally see past the tough exterior he shows the world and find the tender, vulnerable boy underneath.

Eddie grins, leaning closer, his voice lowering to a husky murmur. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

[join my 3k followers celebration! ♥]

[halliestinks]

Hi, i was wondering if you could do some wholesome headcannons for Y/N (who acts like Douchebag in the sot game) Thats like a sister to Cartman. His mother adores her and he likes to bully her. But when others do it hes like "No only i can >:/"

Cartman w/ reader who’s like a sister to him

a/n: this is an old request that’s been sitting in my inbox for over 2 yrs, decided to write it as my first request since i’ve returned :3

• oh boy, cartman as a brother figure could be both great and awful.

• having first met you he would notice how quiet and chill you are, trying to get you to crack on many different occasions (failing miserably everytime). he never really cared too much about you. however once you started to spend more time with him and you found yourself at his house quite often, you developed an unexpected sibling bond with him

• he would definitely take advantage of your silence whenever he asks for a favour, immediately roping you into any and all of his problems. (kind of like butters— however he doesn’t screw you over as much)

• the teasing is the worst part. he knows exactly what ticks you off and how to break your silent facade

“HAHAHA YOU SHOULD SEE YOUR FACE!!”

“… 🙂”

• he knows when to stop though

• he unfortunately learnt his lesson after you beat the crap out of him for pushing you way past your limit!! (i just love sibling bonding experiences)

• aside from all of that… cartman is actually really fun to be around when he’s not being an asshole. the two of you usually spend your time together playing video games and doing random shit outside in the snow

• his mom absolutely adores you!!! she would constantly ask cartman if you would be coming over to their place later, always making sure to cook extra for dinner just in case

• cartman definitely gets jealous over his mom pampering you, thinks that she should pay more attention to her real son. and to piss him off even more, his mom always makes sure he shares everything with you

“but myeeeem… those are my cheesy poofs 🤬”

“😈😈”

• cartman’s mom is completely oblivious to any of the sibling rivalry, instead tells cartman he just needs to learn to share

• both of you have a silent agreement to always stick up for each other if either of you are being bullied, (not that cartman really needs help)

• i don’t think cartman would straight up defend you, however he would take your side in more subtle ways

“come on guys, let’s cut y/n some slack… otherwise she’ll get all depressed and probably start crying..”

“😐”

• but if anyone ever hurt you physically or did bully you to the point of actually hurting you, cartman will find out and go on a tangent about how he’s the only person who’s allowed to do that. plus if he’s in a bad mood then he’d probably figure out a way to ruin their life

• anyways.. at the end of most days, you find yourself sleeping on the floor in cartman’s room (he kicks you off his bed) and the two of you stay up late having silly conversations— finding yourselves laughing so hard to the point of tears

• until his mom comes in and tells you to go to bed because it’s a school night 🙄

• the two of you never listen, secretly doing an all nighter then feeling like absolute crap the next day. (it’s just a nightly tradition at this point)

• a lot of kids at school mistake you two for actually being related, which never fails to make you smile

• maybe he isn’t such a bad non biological brother after all

[bellarkeselection]

Our Little Kenobi

Request from @starvingbrokestudent Can you do a super sweet pregnancy fic with Obi Wan? Like the reader finds out she’s pregnant after fertility issues and Obi Wan is just so excited?! And how they try to keep it a secret from the council and eventually she has a baby boy?

This will be a mini series like you asked 😁

Rushing to the bathroom I didn't even get the chance to remove my lightsaber and my robe from my body because the sickness was coming on so quickly. Holding onto the toilet I puked what I had ate in my stomach feeling out of breath afterwards. This wasn’t the first time this had happened and it was the third time I had gotten sick. Wiping my hand across my mouth I gagged on the taste leaving the bathroom once I had finished. Finding my communicator out of my robe pocket I thought of the first person I could call who wouldn’t ask too many questions. “Padme, can you come to my room please?”

“Of course. Do you need anything specific?” She asked me appearing as a blue hologram.

Running my fingers through my hair with my freehand I whispered under my breath almost like somebody else was listening on the other side of the door. “Could you uh…could you bring me a pregnancy test. I can’t have the medical droids look I into this. They can’t keep a secret if there is something going on.”

“Sure, I’ll be right over.” She hung up the call making me more nervous just waiting for her to come over.

Pacing back and forth across the floor frantically trying to calm my nerves but it wasn’t working. This couldn't be happening to me. I was a Jedi knight and a leader of one of the clone armies. There was a war going on all on top of it. I heard three knocks on the door before I opened the door quickly. “Come in, Padme.”

“Here it is. Why exactly did you need one?” She asked and I knew that she would after she told me about her and Anakin sneaking around.

Taking it from her hands I went into the bathroom quickly doing the test since the waiting was killing me. Sitting on the toilet I just stared at the test in my hands thinking that my life was now screwed. “Padme, I'm going to be forced out of the order.” I croaked through tears feeling her presence in the doorway of the bathroom just watching me.

“I thought Jedi were encouraged to love. That's what Anakin told me.” She responded.

Lifting my head up I felt tears building up. “But you're sneaking around aren't you. It's exactly what me and Obi-Wan are doing…stars he's going to be upset over this.”

“Maybe he will want the baby.’ She tried being hopeful. “Wait a second I should be asking do you want it first?”

Dropping my gaze to the ground floor silence filled the entire room at that point. I didn't know how to answer her question. Being a member of the Jedi order meant that things like love, marriage, and children were out the window. Gripping my hair in my fingers I screamed dropping the pregnancy test on the floor at my feet. “I don't think I can do this, Padme. I can't…I'm not prepared to be a mother. I barely even remember my own parents after the council found me. And then there's Obi Wan…he…I have no clue what he will feel.”

“Have you ever talked about the possibility of having kids with him if you weren’t Jedi knights?” Padme came into the bathroom and sat down beside me on the floor.

Burying my face into my knees I croaked. “We took an oath, Padme. No marriage, no children, no possibilities of going to the Dark Side.”

“I’m sorry Y/n. But I am here for you and whatever you decide to do.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and we both just sat in silence with me thinking back to that night between Obi wan and I.

Opening the door, he walked towards the bed and dropped me down to the bed. My back hit the soft silk sheets before I rose up from the bed staring at him softly and brought a hand to his cheek stroking it softly. He leaned into my touch and brought my fingers to his lips, kissing them softly for a moment before releasing them. Standing tall, he lifted his shirt over his head and threw it to the ground. My heart began to beat for a second as I stared at him, my eyes directed down to his muscular chest, and blushed at the sight.

I averted my eyes with my hands covering them quickly and tried to contain my blush, he looked up at me and smirked at my reaction. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Y/n. You can look if you want to.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…have you ever done this before.” I pointed out to him where I peeked through my fingers for a split second.

My hands started to trace his form, I began to run his fingers up and down his muscular chest softly while I began to feel his hand start to crawl underneath my shirt. He yanked my shirt off my head, throwing it to the ground only once breaking the kiss until I was not able to not joke with him at least once. “Woah….you look just wow.”

He glanced down at my clothed beasts staring at them deeply before reaching behind my back and began to unclip the straps off and tear it off me in a split second. I gasped at him instantly reaching a hand to cover my breast, he let out a growl at them pushing my hands away. “ Don’t hide from me, my darling. You are perfect.”

He hovered over me and brought his lips down upon mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and embraced more into the kiss. I felt a hard rock positioned at my lower religion, he placed his member at my center and looked up at me. “My love, this may hurt for a few minutes, I promise I'll go slowly. We can do this together, the both of us. Since….I haven’t done this before either. Are you sure you want this, I'll stop if you're not ready.”

“I want you. I want you, Obi.“ I said, gripping the bed sheets in my fingers, never moving my gaze from his. “ Please just go gently.”

Obi wan nodded his head slowly brushing some hair out of my face just admiring my face in the small light that was provided by the bedside lamp. “I want you just as much as you want me.”

Within moments I felt the pain suddenly vanish and began to feel pleasure. I began to move against him and leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. He embraced me back instantly when my fingers dug into his back. And that was the most enjoyable night of our lives.

I decided after a few days later to finally tell him what was happening. He deserved to know the situation so that we could figure out what to do next together. Standing out of his door I sucked in a shaky breath raising my fist and knocking three times on his door where it opened slowly for him to greet me. “Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“We need to talk…alone. If you have some time before our council meeting.” I almost whispered under my breath before he allowed me to come inside.

He shut the door behind himself, raising a brow. “What is going on, darling?”

“Did you remember the night we shared together? Well something I thought wouldn’t happen ended up actually happening.” Fiddling with my fingers in front of me I lowered my gaze to the ground trying to not show how terrified I was.

Obi wan was a much sharper Jedi then I thought I was though when he takes a few steps towards me. “Y/n, if something is making you nervous you can tell me. You know that right. So what is bothering you?”

“Obi, please don’t be upset. I already don’t know what I am going to do with the result. I can’t handle it if you rat me out and abandon me.” I lifted my head showing him my face was turning red with heavy tears coming down my cheeks.

Obi touched my shoulders, shifting his blue orbs down to my eyes. “Darling, please tell me what is wrong. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“I….I’m pregnant.” I croaked out lowering my head into his chest sobbing. “I’m pregnant with your child.”

The Jedi master froze for a moment so unsure of what to say. He was in the same position as yourself. He knew that the council wouldn’t allow you to remain in the temple. Yet he slowly wrapped his arms around my waist holding me gently letting silence fill the room until he finally separated the hug. “I’m not going to leave you, Y/n.”

“Wait what…are you being serious?” I sniffed clinging onto the fabric of his brown cloak for strength and his arms were still around my waist holding me close to his embrace.

He moved one hand to cradle the side of my face feeling me lean into his palm when he replied longingly. “I said I won’t leave you because you're pregnant. I know the risks that it means for us. But I’d be the biggest idiot if I left you over something we both consented too.”

“You have no idea how much of a relief that is to hear you say that, Obi wan.” I chuckled through tears with such relief off my shoulders as I fling my arms around his neck hugging him tightly but gently.

He tightened his grip around my waist, burying his face into my loose hair. His heart skipped a beat at the realization that he would be a father, he was terrified since he didn’t remember his own much. Yet there was more joy in his mind than fear. “I have been considering this for a long time. I guess you finally gave me the courage to do so…”

“What are you talking about…omg.” I gasped covering my mouth watching him lower himself down on one knee directly before me.

He revealed a tiny black box from inside his brown robe, opening it showing me a simple silver ring that had three jewels in the middle of it. His bright blue eyes poured up into mine. “Y/n, I love you. I know that we are told not to get attached to one another but I couldn’t help it. You are everything that I never knew I wanted until we started spending time together. This baby doesn’t want me to run away from all of that. It makes me want to stay by your side even more. So will you marry me?”

“Oh Obi Wan….yes.” I giggled letting him slide the ring on my finger getting to his feet. He cupped my face in his hands kissing me for the first time in a few days. I leaned up on my toes kissing him back.

Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - @iifloweringnightsii

[wilcze-kudly]

The Gaang being 'bad parents' didn't ruin their characters.

I've seen this argument tossed around a couple times and it's honestly one of my least favourite criticisms of lok.

Katara (and Sokka but we have no confirmed kids for him, which seems unrealistic with how much game he had) lost their mother as children and their father was forced to abandon them when they were barely starting their teens. They were raised by their grandmother with little to no peers of their own age.

Aang did not know his parents and a huge chunk of his childhood was him being groomed into taking up the mantle of the avatar and mastering airbending. He also was isolated from other kids his age. His closest parental figure was Gyatso who was more of a teacher than a father. Also the Air Nomads were literally wiped out so that adds to the trauma pile.

I really don't think i have to talk about Zuko's family life here, but at least he had relatively positive parental figures in the form of Ursa (though i do have a burning personal dislike of ursa) and Iroh. Despite this his struggle around the subject of his family and his trauma relating to his upbringing was a focal point of his character arc.

Toph was raised in isolation by her asshole abelist parents who did not listen to her, sent people to capture and bring her back and then disowned her. (If my cursory understanding of 'the rift' is correct, I need to actually read it because i am unreasonably obsessed with the Beifong family.)

Where, pray tell, were they supposed to learn proper parenting skills? On their brief stint as child soldiers? While fighting a war as literal children?

There is the argument that they must've matured later in their lives, of course. But you can only recover so much from copious amounts of childhood trauma.

Being a bad parent doesn't necessarily make you a bad person. Sure it makes you a failure in an incredibly delicate and important aspect of human life but it doesn't make you a bad person. And saying that it does takes a lot of nuance out of the conversation.

Like, do you know how easy it is to fuck up a child?

Especially that the ways the members of the Gaang 'fucked up' as parents feel mostly in character.

Bumi was going to face some struggles with self worth due to being the firstborn child of the Avatar and arguably one of the most powerful waterbenders in history, while being a nonbender himself. That much was unavoidable, no matter how his parents approached the issue.

And Aang was obviously going to be over the moon when Tenzin was born. Think about it. He's literally the last of his people. He has no one else 'like him'. No one else to pass down the traditions, the teachings that Gyatso and everyone else he cared about and who were horrifically murdered to. Aang is getting older and he feels like his culture and history and his entire life before he got trapped in that damned iceberg will die along with him. And then Tenzin is born and Tenzin can take up the mantle that had been thrust upon Aang.

I'm going to withhold my judgement on Izumi and Zuko, since we barely know anything about them. She seems well adjusted but that's all i can say right now. But Zuko has also been shown to be extremely, painfully aware of how fucked up his family is and has clearly been putting in a lot of work to unscrew what his ancestors have screwed up.

Toph situation feels very tragic to me,because it's obvious that she thought she thought she was doing better than her parents. She gave her daughters the freedom to do what they want, to not feel opressed and trapped like she had. How was she supposed to know that she was making her girls feel like she didn't love them? (Here's another post of mine about the Beifong family and how they just feel like they're cursed or something at this point.)

TLDR; I get annoyed by people saying that the Gaang being 'bad parents' ruined their characters, because to me it felt like it actually enhanced them.

Neither Aang nor Toph acted out of malice or a lack of love. On the contrary, Toph was trying not to repeat her parents mistakes, accidentally committing a bunch of her own. While Aang probably didn't even realise that he was neglecting Kya and Bumi.

But just loving your children doesn't always make you a good parent.

I think these flaws only add to them as characters. It makes them feel more real.

It's unrealistic and, frankly, just plain boring to go 'oh the Gaang were all good people so they would be good parents too.'

The Gaang were a gaggle of traumatised children forced into saving the world, because the adults around them failed them, that then grew into traumatised adults who have no idea how to be good parents.

[mrs-kmikaelson]

04| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader, Elijah Mikaelson x niece!reader Summary: A while after the party, you're approached by Elijah at Rousseau's who has a request that you would've never expected. Warnings: none Words: 3.1K

Masterlist | Part 5

I shook a cocktail shaker vigorously before pouring whatever pink liquid it was into a glass and sliding it over to the customer on the other side of the counter, running a hand through my hair right afterward as I glanced around at the full bar.

Full fucking bar and I'm the only person here.

Camille had a date with Marcel tonight, but there was no one else who could possibly take her shift tonight because there was no one else working tonight. I told her I could cover for her because I had experience bartending in the eighties, but I didn't know it was gonna be like this.

I guess there was some sort of festival going on tonight, but in New Orleans, when isn't there?

It's been a week since the Mikaelsons through their party, a week since I had my 'family reunion', and I haven't seen any of them since. Don't know if I'm happy about that or not.

I sighed, tossing back a shot of my own before moving onto the next customer. I'll overthink later.

"Drinking on the job?" Or not.

Speak of the fucking devil, because I looked up and, sitting in the stool in front of me, was Elijah Mikaelson. He had a small, playful smirk on his lips, leaned back in his chair nonchalantly, but not in a way that made him look like he wasn't alert, but in a way that showed the world he wouldn't even dream of someone stepping to him.

I forced a laugh, wiping down a glass while I responded, "Yeah, well it's a little hard to be surrounded by all this and not get any." He smiled, nodding while I threw the rag over my shoulder. Inside, I was shaking, but I tried my hardest to treat him like he was any other person so he wouldn't take notice. 

I raised my brows. "Let me guess, whiskey? No- bourbon?" I didn't wait for a reply and grabbed the bottle while Elijah chuckled.

"Bourbon would be nice, thank you, Y/N," he said. I wonder if he had an inkling how freaked out I was that he remembered my name.

Half of me was hoping they'd forget all about me. The other half, well... I tried not to give that one a microphone.

I handed him the glass in a hurry, hoping to get away from him as fast as possible, but of course, the universe wasn't so kind because he stopped me, calling my name when I turned around. 

Fuckkkk. I screwed my eyes shut before spinning back around with that perfect customer service smile on my face. 

"Good luck," he said, and my brows furrowed. He saw the confusion on my face and nodded to the rest of the bar, elaborating, "With the customers." I held in a sigh of relief and smiled to him in thanks, moving on.

I'd normally ask customers how they were doing, what brought them to Rousseau's, but not only did I not have enough time what with all the customers, but I also did not feel like making conversation with Elijah Mikaelson after I've been drinking.

So, to resolve my frazzled state that was typically caused by drinking, I drank some more. And I continued to work, per usual, trying to bring my mind back to positive memories of me in the past instead of the dramas of my present.

I was in auto-pilot, serving customers while drifting off into a world of my own, thinking about a time when I wasn't so obsessed with finding my family. The reason why was that I already had one.

My mother and I were very close when I was young, and she did everything she could to protect me before the world took her from me, taking me in the process. Niklaus, obviously, was never in the picture.

He and his entire family did not even know I existed. For all I knew, Klaus just had a one-night stand with my mother and never saw her again. So there was no way he could ever find out who I was, not on his own. But Elijah... Elijah was as smart as Klaus was strong. I didn't want to talk to him too often and have him put together any puzzle pieces.

The night went on without any interruptions. I periodically checked the clock. Rousseau's closed a bit later than usual bars since it was in the middle of the Quarter, but I only had about an hour left before both my shift was over and the bar closed. Thank the heavens. 

Things were going as smoothly as far as I could tell what with me half listening to everything going on, but suddenly, I was brought back to my sense by someone yelling. 

My head shot up and, on the other side of the bar, I saw two people I recognized almost immediately, a man and a woman. The man was a member of Marcel's crew, and the girl was a witch I was familiar with since Marcel left the witch dealings to me back when practicing magic wasn't punishable by fucking death. 

The vampire, Dimitri, was yelling obscenities at Talia, the witch, as she yelled over him. He went to shove her and, without thinking, I rushed over in a blur and blocked him with my arm, separating them both. 

"Break it up right. now," I ordered, glaring at them both but mostly Dimitri. He always bugged me. The bar was less full now and I could tell that people had stopped to watch the encounter.

Talia crossed her arms and Dimitri glared back at me. "She's being a fucking bitch, Y/N-"

She scoffed, "Oh, would you just-"

I raised my voice. "Both of you, enough!" They both stopped and stared at me. "As far as I'm concerned, neither of you should even be talking to each other right now, much less arguing or physically fighting. That's violating so many different agreements at once." This time Dimitri scoffed and so I turned to him, raising a brow, feeling the annoyance in me bubble. "What, do you have something to say?"

He looked at me and smirked in a way that made me want to bite into his neck or turn his blood to acid, and responded, "Yeah- those were your rules when Marcel ran the city and let his bitch boss us around-"

I cut him off, an incredulous look on my face. "His what?"

He ignored me. "But the Mikaelsons are in charge now, and he is not," he boasted. "Which means- neither are you." His smirk widened like he'd just made some huge declaration, like he was in the one in control here.

But he couldn't be more wrong. You see, Marcel left negotiations to me, knowing I could talk to people a little better than he could. And since I kept the peace for him, he let me make a few rules. I was in charge, and I'd be damned if I let some newbie vampire think he bested me. 

I took a step closer to him, ready to fucking tell him how it is, but before I could even get a word out, someone had sped right next to me and cut me off.

I looked up, startled, and was even more surprised when I saw that the man that had sped over was Elijah. Fan-fuckin-tastic.

Talia took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself while Dimitri swallowed. Elijah smiled a tight-lipped smile, staring at Dimitri in a way that would be perceived to be friendly if it were anyone else, but with him, it just looked condescending. With one gaze, he was saying he was better than you without ever really having to say it.

"Forgive me for interrupting, but I would rather not stand and watch this altercation from the sidelines," he expressed. "See, in my time, you'd treat a woman with respect, and it looks to me that you are treating both of these young women with anything but." I held back a snort at the 'young' bit. I'm older than Dimitri by a long shot, but I get the memo.

Dimitri stuttered back, but couldn't form a response. "I-"

"You what? You think that because the Mikaelsons are in charge now that you can run amuck and act as you please?" Elijah paused as if he was waiting for an answer and scoffed when he didn't get one. "Well, I am a Mikaelson," he announced, "and right now I am granting you the privilege of walking away from this because, from what I can see, Y/N holds more relevance than you do or ever have." Not once did he glare at Dimitri, simply holding his stare strongly, and Dimitri most definitely tried to hold that stare in challenge, but after a few seconds, he gave up, swallowing, and walking away quickly.

Elijah's lips curved slightly before they were forced down as he held back a smirk, turning to me and Talia. She nodded at Elijah--in thanks, I'd assume--and he reciprocated the action before she, too, walked away, leaving just me and him standing there.

I looked around at the rest of the bar and realized that everyone left was supernatural in one way or another, or at least knew about it because everyone had returned to their own conversations, not even batting an eye at the inhuman speed displayed.

Elijah glanced around too before looking back to me and nodding towards the door. I quickly understand the motion and nodded back. He wanted to get away from the prying ears, but I could do him one better.

I raised my voice and exclaimed to the crowd, "Sorry guys, party's over!" I heard a few groans and Elijah raised a brow at me, but I ignored it. It was closing time, anyway. "You can go home now! Like right now." I saw some people about to protest, but one look from Elijah and they were silenced. They did not want to fuck with that. 

The clear-out was one of the fastest ones I'd ever seen, especially on a night like this, but in minutes, the bar was empty. When I was sure no one else was around, I finally looked at Elijah and felt my previous nervousness return, but still chastised, "I had that handled."

Instead of being offended, he gave me that same smile he's been smiling all night and told me, "I know. But I couldn't help myself." Although that was meant to be somewhat of an apology, there was a smugness in it that I couldn't stand.

I hummed in a way I hope 'bullshit' was conveyed, turning around the clean up the bar. He chuckled. Good, message received then.

Even I was a little surprised with how bold I was being, but I guess that, even after 500 years, alcohol still gave me a little courage.

I picked up the glasses people had left scattered, putting them into the sink and tidying everything up so that, tomorrow, Camille wouldn't have to deal with any of it.

"So you handled business for Marcel?" I glanced at him to see his hand casually tucked into a pocket of his slack. Again, it was such a small, insignificant stance, but there was just something about it that made you want to fold into yourself.

I looked back to the glasses I was scrubbing, affirming, "Yeah, I'd negotiate with all sides to come to agreements we could all, well, agree on, I guess."

His lip quirked up as he sat down on a barstool right in front of me. I wordlessly handed him a glass and a bottle of bourbon, and the small quirk of his lips became a grin.

While he poured himself a glass, I kept working on the dishes and decided to make small talk so I didn't look like an alien creature that didn't know how to communicate with others.

"You've been here a while, and it's just after closing now. What's the occasion- or is it more of a you just needed a drink kind of occasion?"

Even though my back was turned, it was still like I could sense him smirking. "It's the latter," he revealed. "In fact, I'm drinking because of the disagreements within the factions."

"Oh?" I kept scrubbing.

He continued, "Yes. It's the same story every time: everyone wants power and no one is satisfied with what they have."

I snorted, "Yeah, Tears For Fears wasn't kidding. Everybody really does want to rule the world." And that was a joke, but it was completely true, especially in a city like New Orleans. 

"Precisely that, Y/N. And Niklaus-" I refrained from taking in a breath. "Oh, my brother is not handling it well." I'd imagine he wasn't. From what I've heard about Klaus, he didn't take kindly to people trying take what he thought was rightfully his. That's why he tried banishing Marcel, even though he was meant to be like a son to him.

I scoffed at that in my head. Klaus was a father to Marcel, raised Marcel, and was gonna raise another child in the near future, and yet he'd never even met me.

My brain was bombarded with the thoughts I tried to keep in at that moment. I wondered if he knew about me at all, if he knew and just didn't care, or if he had no idea of my existence. I wonder what he'd do if he knew. Would he care?

I pushed back those thoughts and shook my head, bringing myself back to the conversation and replying, "That's pretty expected. I mean, it took Marcel years to create what he had, and he also had me to keep the peace, too, so it's different." 

Elijah hummed, briefly reminding me of Klaus. For a few seconds, all that could be heard was the scrub-a-dub-dubbing I was doing and the steady response I was getting from him stopped. Until he resumed with enough fervour to knock me out.

"And what if we had you to keep the peace for us?""

I dropped the glass I was scrubbing in shock, quickly using my speed to stop it from hitting the sink and breaking. I put the glass down and turned the faucet off, turning to face him fully. I was half expecting to see a smile on his face, for him to tell me he was joking, but he had a completely serious look on his face.

If I didn't know any better, I'd see he even looked hopeful.

I looked at him, analyzing his face for a few seconds before lowering my guard slightly for the first time around a Mikaelson and whispering, "Oh my God, you're not kidding."

He smiled a little. "No, Y/N, I'm afraid I'm not." I blew out a breath through my lips, feeling the gears in my head turn 70 miles an hour.

What the fuck?

He's asking me to work for them.

My family.

Me.

Klaus' daughter.

But they don't know that.

No, they don't know about my relation to them. But Elijah does know that Marcel's my friend. I made this known, just in case he forgot in the few seconds it'd been since it'd been brought up. "You do know Marcel's my friend, right? Maybe even my best friend, if you want to get technical."

He took a sip of his bourbon before responding, "Yes, I'm aware."

I nodded. "Right, so then you know why I cant accept that offer." I wasn't thinking about the opportunity or power or really anything important at that moment. I was thinking about Marcel. And I was thinking about how coincidental it was that, a week after I got back to the city, Elijah takes interest in me of all people.

Maybe it's not a coincidence, my subconscious reasoned.

Oh, but hell, I really hoped it was.

Elijah took another sip of his drink. "You know these people, they trust you." I gave him a look, but hid my skepticism at the way he phrased his sentence. He said it like he already knew about my history with the factions. Honestly, knowing him, he probably did.

He used my silence and went on, "Arrangements could be made about Marcellus." My brows raised at that. "I'm fine with negotiating, Y/N." 

I narrowed my eyes. He was to trying to broker a deal with me. Smart. But a Mikaelson choosing to negotiate for someone with as little 'relevance' as me is odd, to say the least.

I stared at him for a few seconds before stating the obvious. "I have a feeling your brother wouldn't like what exactly you're offering me."

Elijah chuckled, shaking his head. "Believe me, Y/N, I don't have much care for what my brother does or doesn't like at the moment."

I pursed my lips, running it all over in my head in disbelief that I was even considering it. The offer alone was suspicious, but the situation was riskier than many situations I'd put myself into in my lifetime, and that was saying something.

I'd been chasing after the Mikaelsons for ages, watching the family I never got from a distance, the always and forever I wasn't apart of. Right now, Elijah Mikaelson was offering up the opportunity to see them up close on a silver platter, and I was hesitant?

I held Elijah's stare, contemplating. And perhaps it was the alcohol that made the decision for me, but soon enough I found my mouth opening, words spilling out of it. "Marcel is allowed back into the Quarter, and him and Klaus call a truce." He didn't flinch. "You agree to that, and you have yourself a deal."

Elijah continued to stare at me in silence for a few seconds after that, and as time passed, I began to think I royally fucked up, trying to order him around, but he proved me a wrong by holding a hand out. I looked at it in bewilderment.

"You have yourself a deal, Miss Y/L/N." I held back any surprise at the fact that he knew my surname when I never gave it to him, but really, there was nothing to be surprised about. 

I reluctantly reached out and clasped my hand in his, ignoring the rush of power I felt when my skin made contact with his and tried not to show it on my face. 

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

[cameronspecial]

some angst inspired by july of noah cyrus?

can't really describe it

Slow Death

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mention of Abuse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

It’s hard to say when they fell in love with each other. It’s even harder to say when they fell out of love with each other. Neither Y/N nor Rafe could tell when they stopped being by each other’s side because they couldn’t fathom being apart, but because the change was a thing they were both afraid of. Y/N thinks it was a culmination that caused the shift in their relationship instead of one event that changed it all. One fight about who is going to do the dishes turned into a constant battle over the smallest and biggest things. 

———

Tears stream down her face as she replays his words in her mind. God, when did you become such a burden? The reminder of the burden she has become to the person she once loved causes a new wave of agony to come over her and as she feels herself hyperventilating, she begins to count to ten like her mother taught her. One, Two. Breath In. Three, Four. Breath Out. Five, Six. Breath In. Seven, Eight. Breath Out. Nine, Ten. Breath In. Her breath steadies and she peaks out to the balcony to see if Rafe is going to come in. Instead, she finds him relaxing on a deck chair with a beer resting in his hand. He isn’t facing her, yet his body language tells her he is in the same amount of pain as her. Exhaustion overwhelms her and she feels her eyes flutter. As sleep overcomes her, she is left wondering why they are both so okay with living a lifetime, slowly dying on the inside. 

———

She wakes up the next day and isn’t surprised to see her bedside empty. Her normal morning routine is followed to a T. The floorboards creak as she pads to the kitchen to make breakfast and annoyance floods her when she sees the kitchen island littered with beers. There has to be around twenty. Topper and Kelce must have come over once she fell asleep because Rafe could’ve never drunk all of that by himself. He sits at the counter, hunching over a bowl of cereal. She knows he has no plan to clean up his mess. “It isn’t that hard to put glasses in the recycling. It is literally at the end of the counter. You wouldn’t have to walk more than five feet to get to it,” she criticizes. Her mind busies as she begins to clean the mess. He grunts, “I don’t need you to mother me, Y/N.” The tone in his voice gives her the courage to stop pretending everything is fine. “What are we doing, Rafe?” 

“What?” The spoon he is holding drops and clangs against the ceramic bowl. She takes a deep breath, “Why are we still together if all we do is fight?” His hand runs through his hair and gives the ends a tug. “Because we love each other,” he argues.

She drops the beer glass she has in her hand onto the table. “Do we? Rafe, every single day, you remind me that I am not enough for you. That I’m not who you want so why am I still here?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me to leave! Then, I’ll pack my bags and get on the road.”

“I can’t do that. So if you want to go, then you can go all on your own.” 

She processes his words, wondering if maybe they mean there is still hope for their love. Except, she can’t let that hope override what is happening right now. She musters up her courage, “I’ll go.” His mouth parts slightly before he bites the corner of his lips. A shine glosses over his eyes and she is sure her expression mirrors his. Her steps are less certain as she makes her way back upstairs. The hard floor digs into her knees while she kneels in front of the bed to pull out her luggage. She hesitates. Memories of all the time change has screwed up her life come to mind. When she changed university, she ended up hating it because her new school was always on strike. When she decided to move out of her cozy apartment for a new fancier one, the new one ended up being built with a slew of violations. And the most important one of all, when her mother left her father for someone new. Her new stepfather ended up being an abusive asshole. Change hasn’t been kind to Y/N in the past, so why should she trust it now? 

The luggage is left in its place under the bed and she raises, going back downstairs to finish cleaning. Rafe says nothing as she recycles the rest of the bottles and gets to work on making herself breakfast. Because they may be dying a slow death, but at least it will be a familiar one. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[elliesappetite]

Doctor Williams is in the house (Inspired by Grey's Anatomy) - Prologue

FREE PALESTINE

Doctor Ellie Williams x surgical intern reader

Rating: 17+ (Age Gap - Ellie is 38, Reader is 28)

Summary: you slept with Ellie Williams after a night out. You're a surgical intern, what could possibly go wrong? (Doctor AU)

a/n: hello!! it's been a while but i've been so busy that i just haven't had time to sit down and write! But i'm here now! Also i'm no doctor so there will be inaccuracies but i'm trying to make it accurate!!

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The game. They say either a person has what it takes to play, or they don't. My mother was one of the greats. Me, on the other hand...I'm kinda screwed.

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It feels like just yesterday when you were buried under a mountain of textbooks, your nights filled with tears and sleeplessness, all in pursuit of passing the board certification exam. All those gruelling hours have finally paid off.

Now, here you are at the bar, surrounded by your old friends Jess, Micah, and Lily, celebrating your new role as a surgical intern at St. David’s North Austin Medical Center in Austin, Texas.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually a surgeon!” Micah exclaims with a grin, giving you a playful punch on the arm. You chuckle, shaking your head. “And I can’t believe you’re back from the big city of Seattle, man we missed you.” Jess adds, you give her a smile in return.

“I’m not a surgeon yet, just a surgical intern. I still have a year to go before I’m official,” you correct Micah as the man just shrugs. “Still, that’s really impressive. I don’t think I could ever be a surgeon.”

“Yeah, because you’re not exactly known for your brains, Micah,” Lily teases, taking a sip of her beer. “She’s smarter than all of us put together.”

“I’m not that dumb,” Micah protests, but his voice trails off as Jess speaks up.

“You know what we should do? We should get you laid.” Jess’s suggestion raises an eyebrow. “And why should I do that?” you ask, nursing your half-finished vodka-cranberry.

“You haven’t been with anyone since Esther dumped you for that guy, what was his name? Denver?” Jess teases. “Dallas,” you correct her with a raised eyebrow. “Right, Dallas. Who does that?”

Rolling your eyes, you watch Lily chime in, “I think I need to find someone too. Ever since the whole mess with my parents, I definitely need to get out there.” She starts scanning the bar for potential matches.

As the trio continues their banter, you let your gaze wander around the room. Among the diverse crowd, your eyes settle on a striking woman sitting alone at the bar. Her beauty is captivating, as well as wanting to sit on her face-  as she looks back from the cricket game on the TV, her eyes meet yours.

She gestures for you to join her, patting the seat next to her. With a quick excuse to your friends, you make your way over and sit beside her, immediately drawn to the intoxicating scent of her cologne.

“Howdy,” she says, her voice low and inviting.

“Hi there,” you respond, enchanted by her slight southern accent.

“I noticed you with your friends,” she leans forward, resting her elbows on the bar.

“Oh, yeah?” you lean closer. “Yeah.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I didn’t want to interrupt a pretty girl like you while you were with your friends.” You blush at the compliment. “Pretty girl,” she called you.

The conversation flows effortlessly, and before you know it, you’re completely absorbed in her presence, losing track of time.

“How about you come back with me?” you ask, your newfound confidence perhaps fueled by the alcohol or just by her allure.

She finishes her drink, places a twenty-dollar bill on the bar for both of your tabs, and smiles. “Sure, pretty girl, lead the way.”

You both stand up, grabbing your things and heading toward the exit. As you glance back, your friends give you thumbs up, and Micah winks at you.

The night unfolds in a blur of excitement. You barely remember getting to your place, but the passionate encounter you shared is etched vividly in your mind—it was nothing short of heavenly.

If only you knew what the future would hold.

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You wake up on the couch and pull a blanket off the half-naked woman on the floor, wrapping it around yourself. As you glance at her sleeping form, you nudge her with a pillow, causing her to grunt and stir. She lifts up your bra, confused.

“This…is…?” she mumbles.

You grab it with a sarcastic smile. “Humiliating on so many levels. You have to go.”

Sitting up and adjusting her crooked sports bra, she flirts, “Why don’t you just come back down here, and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

You scoff softly and head toward the kitchen. “No, seriously. You have to go. I’m late, which is definitely not how you want to start your first day of work, so…”

The woman looks around, puzzled. “So, ah, you actually live here?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh.”

You sigh, pouring yourself a coffee. “Yes. Kind of.”

She dresses in the clothes from last night. “Oh. It’s nice. A bit dusty. Odd, but nice. So how do you kind of live here?”

You walk past her, retrieving your underwear and bra. “I moved here two weeks ago from Seattle. It was my mother’s house. I’m selling it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

You turn, confused. “For what?”

“You said ‘was.’”

You shake your head. “My mother’s not dead. She’s— You know what, we don’t have to do the whole thing.”

She crosses her arms with a smirk. “Oh. We can do anything you want—”

“No,” you cut her off. “Not the thing. No exchanging details or pretending to care. Look, I’m going upstairs to shower. When I come back down, you won’t be here, so, um, goodbye…um…”

You realize you don’t know her name.

“Ellie,” she replies. You shake her hand. “Ellie. Right.” You introduce yourself, and she repeats your name.

“Nice name,” Ellie says. “Yeah. Thanks.” Ellie moves closer, and you back away. “Mm-hmm.”

“Nice meeting you, pretty girl.” “Bye, Ellie.” You smile and flee for the stairs.

Ellie stands there, watching your retreating figure, wondering what she’s gotten herself into.

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The hospital looms large and intimidating. You used to know every corner of this place when your mother, now retired, was a doctor here.

Now, it’s your turn to fill those big shoes.

You slip into a room full of other interns—some nervous, some confident. It feels like stepping into a lion’s den. As you take it all in, you hear a voice. Dr. Isaac Dixon.

"Each of you comes here with hope, eager to join the game. Just a month ago, you were in med school, learning from doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as surgical residents will be both the best and the worst of your lives. You will be pushed to your limits. Look around. Say hello to your competition."

The interns exchange glances, sizing up the others who are all here to fight for the same goal.

"Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you."

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Like I said. I’m screwed.

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[rafesgiirl]

I'm not a violent dog, I don't know why I bite

summary: rafe can't control his emotions, he doesn't know how to vent, he doesn't even know what's the thing that feels inside of him, until y/n showed up

warnings: ANGST ANGST, mentions of Rafe's dead mother, cursing, mentions of ward being an absolute dick

author's note: THIS IS MY FIRST FIC 😭 I know it sucks, but I tried my best, it's based on a TikTok edit, this one, I hope you like it 😭😭.

word count: around 2000

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

rafe cameron has always been seen as an aggressive person, as the one who 'handles the business', as that drug addict kid, as the one who killed sheriff peterkin, the one who had the guts to drown his sister.

few knew the backstory, and those who did... didn't even care.

"rafe cameron is bad" "rafe cameron is aggressive" "rafe cameron is crazy"... what rafe cameron really was was a broken kid, but no one seemed to notice it.

that day everything changed, that day he met the girl of his dreams, pretty face and nice body, a smile to die for, her long eyelashes...

her name was y/n y/l/n, she was a beautiful girl, that anyone would drool over.

"uh.... hi... are you— are you new?" he asked the bright-eyed girl.

"oh! hi! yes, I'm new over here" she laughed, a laugh that could stop wars if only they could hear it. “my name is y/n y/l/n, what is yours?” y/n looked directly into his eyes, as if she was searching for something, he felt intimidated, he felt as if she could see right through him.

“rafe…, ‘s nice to meet ya’” the tone of his voice making clear that he was uncomfortable.

“rafe? that's a beautiful name, it suits you so well!”

“thanks..” he furrowed his brows, who was this girl and why was she so captivating?

“oh! wait! rafe? like in Rafe Cameron???”

shit, she knew who he was, she was probably going to say all the bullshit that he didn't need to hear, but before he even had the chance to walk away, she started rambling.

“oh lord! I can't believe it! your family owns Cameron developments right?? oh god my dad ‘s super friend of yours! that means that we could be friends too, right rafe??” those words slipped from her mouth before she could notice she covered her mouth with her hands and then she giggled. “‘m sorry rafe”

his gaze softened at this girl, she was too sweet, almost innocent. he took a deep breath and smiles softly at her.

“no, ‘s fine, we could be friends… yeah— if you want to, yeah?”

“yey!” was the only thing before she squealed and went away giggling and running.

that girl… that girl had something, something that intrigued rafe.

some months passed by, he and she got along really nice, their families often got together so it made it easier for them to develop a friendship.

y/n and rafe got along just well, hanging out, partying together, laughing and smiling... something that he believed that would end up so wrong. after all, he was rafe fucking cameron, the one and only, he was aggressive, he was a dumbass, he just wanted to snort coke and fight with people, he didn't know better… right?

y/n knew about rafe's problems, about his drug addiction, anger issues, daddy issues, he wanted to be the man, because he didn't he feel heard enough, he needed to shine, but the only thing he did, was screw things up with people.

"y/n are you awake?"

his dark voice sounded in her ear as she picked up the call.

"mhm, is everything alright?" she just woke up, it was 3 in the fucking morning, what does he want?

"just wanted to thank you, do you think I could take you.. uh to The Druthers sometime and.. y'know— hang out, tan together, or play uno?"

"rafe? are you okay? why are you saying this now? it's 3am"

"I'm conscious of that, sweetheart" she could hear laughs on the phone.

"rafe.. are you high?"

"uhm— no, no.. I'm not"

"yeah... well, we'll talk about 'going to The Druthers sometime' okay?"

"yeah, sure" he says with a scoff

"I'm being serious, it's 3 in the fucking morning and I'm really tired, talk to you later, yeah?"

silence invaded the call.

"yeah, sure, the only thing you're going to do later is tell me off for not being at my house, and probably also for being drugged, but who the hell cares? no one, y/n, to no one"

"rafe, stop it"

"yeah, because no one gives a single fuck about me, Sarah? she hates me for— for trying to protect what's mine. my dad?" his voice cracks "he hates me, Sarah is the golden child, what am I to him??"

y/n took a deep breath.

"rafe cameron, the kook prince, the most wanted boy in the outer banks, are you seriously saying this to me??" she giggles "Sarah is stupid, the only thing she has in mind is the fucking gold for the fucking Pogues, so ignore that shit, and your father..." her voice trails off "but people do care about you, what about Topper? or Kelce?"

"and you?" he asks.

"me?"

"yeah— yeah shit, you, do you care about me?"

"why do you ask?"

rafe stays silent, once again "b-because I want to know if you care about me, can you fucking answer?"

"yes"

rafe sighs in relief.

"of course I care about you, you dumbass, I wouldn't be in this call if I didn't care"

"you wanted to leave"

"yes, because it's 3am rafe, please" she laughs again, provoking a laugh from him too.

"yeah" he laughs "it's true, I'll go home now, rest good, yeah?"

"mhm, okay rafe, love you"

"what— what the fuck did you just say?"

she laughs once again "I love you, dummy, be safe, yeah?"

"yeah— yeah, bye"

the call ended.

the next day, they were in The Druthers, she was sitting and looking at the sea, he was laying on her lap, letting her play with the locks of his dirty blonde hair.

"y/n?" rafe said really softly.

"yes rafe?"

"thanks"

she looks down at him "for?"

"for loving me"

"damn Rafe, you're doing it wrong.. come here" she helps him sit and she embraces him.

"you help me a fucking lot, y/n and I really want to thank you" he sounded SO pussy whipped, but he didn't care

"I don't do anything, Rafey, it's okay, yeah?"

"I.. damn.. I sometimes feel things in my insides and— and— I just don't know how to fuckin' control 'em, you got me?"

"yes, I understand, what kind of things do you feel?" she said removing her sunglasses from her nose, to put them next to the blonde.

"I don't feel anger, it's a weird feeling, it's more like.." and he goes quiet.

he starts gesturing things with his hands, only provoking a giggle on her.

"don't laugh, I'm— I'm being serious, you spoiled thing"

"I just feel rage, I feel sadness.. I don't feel anger" he says, his baby blue eyes locked with hers, he lays now on his back, looking at the sky, becoming silent.

"I... sometimes think about my mother, and how disappointed would she be if she discovered who I am right now. that I'm not that small child full of giggles and smiles, now I'm.." his voice trails off as he sits, giving her back to her, his voice obviously cracking just at the thought of his mother.

"rafe.." she says, furrowing her brows in worry and placing a small hand on the back of his shoulder.

"my friends think I like to fight." he takes a pause, inhaling deeply "but it's just not true— I mean, yeah, sometimes I lose my temper and blow off a little steam. but I never enjoyed it"

he wipes one of the tears threatening to fall, and he gulps.

"I'm not a violent dog." he turns to face her, his eyes full of tears.

"I don't know why I bite..."

her eyes were sad, looking at him, she was genuinely worried about him, she just embraced him and let him cry on her shoulder.

"they don't deserve you, rafe, they don't..." y/n says with all the delicacy in the world.

"you're too much for them, you're kind and smart, and... you're beautiful, in your insides.."

"I'm sure your mother understands you, your father doesn't because he's messed up in the fucking head, but I understand you, rafe"

rafe looks at her, frowning and looking at her in disbelief "how can you even understand me, how can you even love me, huh??"

"I just do, your heart.. your heart says things that your mouth doesn't, I know your looks, rafe, when you boil, you're not angry... the sadness turns to aggressiveness"

"you can't say that, you don't know me like I know myself" he says again in a broken voice.

"I could try to know you if you wanted me to" she adds with a smile.

he looks at her in disbelief, still frowning "what if I hurt you? like I hurted Sarah, or Wheezie that time when I grabbed her arm and left bruises on her arm for a week” he starts to ramble.

“shh, rafe, it's okay, you won't hurt me, I want to do this, I want to be there for you”

“I don't understand why”

“because I love you” she says quietly, slowly leaning to take his hand.

“I love you, rafe Cameron”

the tears in his eyes disappeared and then they turned even brighter, he smiles and nods.

“I— I love you too y/n”

[alexiethymia]

angsty and slightly dark knh fic idea:

jinshi and maomao’s push and pull of ‘I want you to trust me’ and ‘I don’t want to burden you’ comes to a head when jinshi’s identity as the emperor’s eldest son finally gets revealed.

“…you knew didn’t, you?”

Maomao could avoid a straightforward answer just like she always did, but it was too late for that now.

“…yes.”

“I see.”

A broken laugh.

“No wonder you could never believe in my words. You must have been laughing at such foolish fantasies.”

“I’ll accept any punishment.”

“That won’t be necessary. I apologize for having troubled you. But please…just go.”

When she finally lifts her head, she sees a face that squeezes her heart. Jinshi looked pained even as he turned his face away from her, even as he screwed his eyes shut and tried not to let the tears fall. It was as if he was holding himself from falling apart only until she finally left.

And it is then that she is finally hit with the bitter reality. Oh. I no longer qualify as a woman he trusts.

As she finally leaves, she keeps clutching her fist to her chest. She doesn’t know what face she’s making. Strange, I wasn’t suppose to know how to care for someone this much.

everyone closest to jinshi probably would have known, but I think he would take it hardest from maomao, because he’s never kept anything from her as much as possible.

miscommunication will always be their enemy. jinshi gives up hope because this is an unavoidable trap for maomao. he finally stops calling on her. since he can’t be with maomao anyway, he’ll accept anyone. (I keep thinking that gyokuyou’s niece might be set up as a possible rival for maomao? someone who might genuinely fall in love with jinshi.)

maomao, because she still doesn’t know how to process it, and because she’s the worst kind of tsundere who won’t even acknowledge she’s in denial might end up accepting it because of course what else could she expect? Not realizing that she’s become just that much colder. Or she might justify it as jinshi being self-sacrificial again. And so she takes matters into her own hands and seduces him, perhaps even drugs him with aphrodisiac (not realizing that she’s repeating the same trap her mother set a long time ago) so that it’s a done deal, so that jinshi doesn’t get silly ideas of pushing her away. Because jinshi is a decent guy, she knows he is, he wouldn’t leave her after that, and if maomao has to use that against him then so be it.

but this is the wrong thing to do because jinshi will always feel that maomao was forced into it. the easiest thing would be for maomao to say it with her own words but she’s gotten used to jinshi being able to read her all this time, so it just becomes this tangled web of toxic and repressed feelings until something gives.

I’d want to explore how their inability to voice out their desires ends up harming them. They both just want the best for the other, but they keep assuming they know what that is without asking (and answering) just what it is they want. For Maomao to stay with Jinshi, even if he is the emperor’s son and all the burdens that come with that. For Jinshi for Maomao to be with him even if that means she will have to give some things up.

Because the thing is, Maomao is already resolved. She has no problem expressing that resolve [to stay with Jinshi despite everything] to other people, so all that’s left is for her to actually say it to the person in question.

[jesssssssssica]

you like my girlfriend op81 & ls2

“admit it!” oscar says, putting his face right up against his friends, a scarily calm expression worn on his face.

“admit what?” logan replies, face screwing up in genuine confusion at the sudden exclamation from his friend.

“you like my girlfriend!”

oh, now logan understood.

time pauses as he collects his thoughts, oscar’s chest slowly rising waiting for the time to fall and then repeat the steps again.

‘had i really been that obvious?’ he thinks, wondering whether someone had caught his lingering gaze on you, panic taking over his mind and body.

he hadn’t meant to fall in love

he hadn’t meant to feel this way towards you, his best friends girlfriend, one he had been dating since what seems like forever, one that he had introduced into his friend group wanting you to make more friends, one that he loved wholeheartedly and now he had to go and screw things up by falling for the girl.

he thinks of ways to justify it but the only thing he comes up with is “well how’d you expect me not to? that girl is an angel and it’s not my fault that she swept me off my feet, so don’t think for one second i chose to like her more than i should. i thought at first it would just go away, but she’s everywhere and i’m sorry. i’m sorry that every time i close my eyes i think of me and her and not you and her and their best friend logan. trust me i’ve tried to get rid of this feeling but every time i try and run away she always reels me back in. i'm sorry oscar.”.

‘no that’s not good,’ he thinks ‘i’ll only just end up crying my eyes out as i speak and that’ll be no good’

so instead he says, with his eyes screwed tight.

“oh cmon, i mean am i attracted to her? sure. do my days feel better when i’m around her? yeah. does she get me in ways no woman ever has? indubitably. do i fantasise about her? yes, but only in two positions. look, am i the kind of guy who would try and steal someone else’s girlfriend? sure, of course but do  i like her? the answer is no, you have nothing to worry about.”

oscar blinks as logan slowly peels his eyes open, staring at his friend.

“oh” oscar utters, his words being the only words he can manage to get out right now, still trying to process the words that logan has just told him, watching his best friend's chest rise up and down quickly, waiting in fear and anticipation of oscar's reaction.

what was oscar meant to say? did logan just expect him to put on his best smile and act as if he hadn’t just heard a confession all about the love he had for his girlfriend, someone that would always speak to logan on a night out? logan was someone that oscar trusted with his life and to know that man was harbouring love, no not love, more like an infatuation, the whole time for his girlfriend left him vulnerable and in a hole.  

“oscar?” logan says, voice small and quiet, sounding more like a child than a twenty two year old. 

“i’m just thinking.” 

and that was true, he was thinking long and hard about where the two of them stood after the confession. if he forgave him and continued to be friends with him then he would always have to watch the two of them, looking for signs of logan still being in love with y/n. 

maybe he could just end it all, their friendship he means, but it will leave a mark in his heart because no matter how hard he tries to deny it, logans have always been there and two, it wouldn’t only affect just his and logan's lives, but also y/n’s. 

y/n, the only lifeline and rock he had left. his beautiful girlfriend that meant the world to him, the person that could make him smile on even the worst days. as he sits, he thinks about that one time after a bad race in f2, the time when was so angry with the world, ignoring everyone, everyone but her, his angel standing in a crowd of his engineers, each of them patting his back in sympathy, everyone but her. that was the day he realised he had found the person. 

the person was the mystery woman his mother would always talk about whenever he was feeling down and upset or having struggles to think of happy thoughts to help him succumb to sleep. the person was the woman that every young little boy wishes they could marry and love, though when they grow up they realise that no such woman exists, well they do but they just end up with some stranger that always takes them for granted and yet the person never seems to realise because they really do love them. 

now that he really thinks about it, he can’t help but feel like the dumbest person in the world for not having realised since their very first date together, that this was the woman he was destined to marry, he feels even more stupid that it took a confession of love from his best friend for him to realise. 

“i-” oscar starts, “listen logan. i will never be able to forget today and the words that you’ve told me and our friendship probably won’t go back to how it was ten minutes ago but thank you, i know that if i were in your situation then maybe i would never have confessed and yet you did, i mean of course i had my suspicions so i would’ve been wary either way but shit sorry, i’m rambling but you know what i mean.”

“you’re lucky to have her, you know.” logan sighs, tears threatening to spill. 

 the thought of what could’ve happened if he had met you first always crosses his mind being the cause of many sleepless nights but it was worth it all. in this perfect world, oscar was the one that sent him over to talk to the pretty girl across the club, not the other way around. In his mind oscar was the one living with the constant pain of being the one in love with y/n and having to deal with the consequences of his own actions. in this world, logan would be the one on the receiving end of words of encouragement and kisses after a good race and a hug that speaks a thousand words when the race doesn’t go exactly as planned. in his mind logan didn’t have to sleep around as a way to fill the empty hole that y/n had accidentally created. if only he wasn’t a good friend.

“i know” oscar says back before a knock sounds out. 

“come in” logan shouts out, thinking that it was an engineer telling oscar that one of his ‘mclaren buddies’ was wanting him to return to his garage.

it wasn’t. 

it was just y/n.

just his luck.

“i knew you would be here!” her voice coos, hands reaching out to hug oscar, who quickly reciprocates the hug and wraps an arm around her waist.

“shows we’re meant to be.” oscar says back facing logan.

“must be.” y/n replies before turning towards the other person in the room, “hey logan! how are you?”

“i’m perfect y/n. just perfect.”

lies.