#it might rebound and keep YOU away instead

[icantrememberwhoiwaslastdecember]

HEY

*runs up to you*

What's ur opinion on apples? :D

tbh I don't really like apples that much

I used to like green aplles when I was younger but now I just...don't as much. I'll deffo eat them if somebody were to give them o me, but yeah

they're great for throwing at people tho!!

[austinbutlerslovers]

Rebound Romance

Label Mature 18+

Summary After filming a movie where you and Austin become too intimate, the lines blur causing rumors swirl at the premiere about you together following his recent breakup.

🔗 Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut ❤️‍🔥 Austin enduring a break up • Austin trying to remain professional • catching feelings • undeniable chemistry•filming a sex scene• unexpected orgasm during sex scene • denying feelings • acting indifferent • reuniting • rekindling romance • sneaking away • semi public sex •sex hidden in a theater during a premiere • P in V • against a wall • rushed orgasms • cream pie.

Inspired by multiple messages written asap (edited )

Rebound Romance

It’s the night of the premiere, and everyone in the cast should be buzzing with excitement. The flashing cameras, the glamorous red carpet, and the thrill of the audience seeing the film for the first time should make for an electric atmosphere.

The historic theater, draped in shimmering lights, looms behind you, its marquee proudly displaying the film’s title. The night should feel like a celebration of months of hard work and anticipation. But instead, it is overshadowed by the swirling drama surrounding Austin’s recent breakup.

Austin, stands a few feet away on the red carpet, his piercing blue eyes flickering under the relentless camera flashes.

His hair, once buzzed for another role, is now growing in soft waves that frame his sharp features. He looks striking in his tailored black suit, the crisp white shirt beneath unbuttoned just enough to reveal a sense of ease. But his smile, the smile that usually lights up a room is hidden tonight.

He’s the male lead of the film, and every interviewer seems more interested in prying into his personal life than asking about the movie. “How are you holding up after the breakup, Austin?” “Any chance for reconciliation?” “Do you feel the film’s themes mirror your personal life?” The questions come rapid-fire, their tone more probing than sympathetic.

Austin, usually so composed and charismatic, looks tense. His easy smile falters as he navigates the minefield of invasive questions.

“I don’t think there’s anything I want to share about that, but thank you for providing the space,” he says, his voice calm but firm. His professionalism is evident, but so is the tightness in his jaw, the faint tension undeniable.

You watch from a few steps away, your heart twisting at the sight of him trying so hard to hold it together.

You’re no stranger to the spotlight yourself. Draped in an elegant white gown that hugs your figure perfectly, you’re every inch the Hollywood starlet tonight.

The shimmering fabric gleams under the lights, the dramatic slit along the leg adding a touch of allure. Yet, the weight of the night dulls any confidence the dress might have inspired.

Your own breakup, though quieter and far less public, has been a shadow trailing you for weeks, making your questions just as relentless, though they take a different angle.

“Do you and Austin have real chemistry off-screen?” one reporter asks. “Your scenes together feel so authentic—was it hard to leave those emotions on set?”

You smile politely, keeping your composure despite the way your heart races. “Austin and I worked incredibly hard to bring these characters to life,” you answer smoothly, your voice calm but firm. “We had amazing chemistry as co-stars, and that’s what you’ll see on screen. We’re both just excited to share this story with the world.”

“With both of you ending your relationships after filming, is there something more than just on screen chemistry there?” another chimes in.

Your eyes flick to Austin briefly before you return your attention to the reporter. “I think speculation is natural, but for both of us, this project was always about the work. We’re proud of the story we’ve told and are excited for everyone to experience it.”

The reporter nods, satisfied with your answer, and your publicist steps forward, urging you to wrap up the questions due to time constraints. “Thank you, everyone,” you say politely, nodding at the reporters before stepping away from the line.

As you walk past Austin, your eyes catch his again, and the dimness in them tugs gently at something deep inside you. He isn’t himself tonight, and you can’t help but feel awful for him.

You had gotten to know Austin well during the months of filming. Though your on-screen time together was relatively brief, your off-screen bond was immediate and undeniable. 

He had a charm that made it impossible not to laugh, and the way he listened, really listened, when you talked about your life made you feel seen in a way few people managed.

Between takes, there was always a spark—flirty teasing, lingering touches, stolen glances that neither of you could deny. Yet neither of you addressed it, letting the tension build with every passing moment to bring more depth to your scenes.

The intimacy coach had pulled you both aside more than once to encourage a more genuine connection between your characters, urging you to bring more authenticity when the cameras were rolling.

“It’s about making a fake scenario feel real,” she reminded you both, her gaze shifting between you and Austin after you both hesitated to give in during a particularly steamy kiss scene.

You nodded, Austin doing the same, and slowly you began testing each other’s boundaries, seeing how far you could push a scene to make it believable,

Until the lines began to blur.

Your kisses deepened, becoming far more real, lingering with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. His hands moved with confidence, grazing over your curves with an intimacy that felt far beyond the script.

When the director yelled “Cut”, neither of you pulled back as quickly as you should, the charged silence between you like a confession neither of you dared to admit.

It didn’t take long for the tabloids to catch wind of the chemistry between you two.

Photos of you laughing together on set or walking shoulder-to-shoulder to your trailers began circulating, and while it wasn’t scandalous on its own, it stoked the fires of gossip.

Headlines speculating about your relationship began appearing everywhere, feeding the public’s growing fascination.

But everything paled in comparison to the biggest turning point of all.

Your sex scene

You both knew it was coming, the intimacy coach had worked closely with you for weeks, helping you establish boundaries and create a space where you could perform without crossing personal lines.

The goal had always being to make a fake situation look real. But when the night of the shoot arrived, neither of you could have predicted how real it would feel.

You stood just off-camera, dressed in a red crop top and mini skirt that left little to the imagination. Beneath it, you wore only a modesty cover designed to keep your lower half technically covered during the topless scene.

Your breaths came heavy as you ran through the scene in your head, trying to ground yourself. You trusted Austin. You cared for him even him. You wanted to get the scene right and you were more than prepared to do it.

When Austin approached you, his easy charm was on full display, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know,” he said, his voice low and playful, “if this doesn’t make the tabloids, nothing will.”

Despite your nerves, you couldn’t help but giggle, the sound surprising even yourself. His words were light, and as you looked up at him, you couldn’t help but feel an unspoken comfort in his presence.

His touch was casual but warm as it landed briefly on your arm, and he leaned in closer, his voice softening. “You okay?”

You nodded, your mind clouded with more thoughts than you could explain. “Yeah. I’m fine,” you said, though your voice wavered just slightly.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, scanning your face as if to make sure you were telling the truth. His gaze, always focused, softened slightly as he smiled. “We’ve got this,” he said, his voice low and reassuring as his hand trailed up your arm, stopping just shy of your shoulder.

The rig was set up—a complex swivel system designed to pan from the wall to the bed—and you took your places. Austin stood close, wearing a simple tee and jeans that held to his frame just enough to hint at the physique underneath as the thought crossed your mind unexpectedly, that you’d be seeing it all for the first time tonight.

When the director called, “Action!”Austin’s lips met yours, and you fell into the kiss as you had so many times before.

Your hand moved to his neck as his hands found their mark on your waist. The choreography came naturally, each of your practiced kisses and touches on cue.

But as he peeled his shirt off, your eyes locked onto his physique in awe, and when he slipped your crop top off, his breath caught at the sight of you.

It was a sound only you noticed, just before the warmth of his bare chest pressed against yours for the first time, the intensity of the scene immediately overwhelming you both.

Your focus wavered as his skin pressed hot against yours, his heart pounding harder than your own. His kisses grew more insistent, his breathing shallow, and the way his hands roamed your body felt like a discovery for both of you.

When he lifted you onto the bed, his touch became firmer, more powerful. He stripped both of you down to your modesty covers, the last thin barrier between your bodies. As his hands grasped your curves, his body pressed closer, his narrow hips settling between your thighs with a physical precision that was maddening.

Your breath caught as your eyes met his, and for a moment, it felt real—too real—as the world narrowed to just the two of you. The cameras, the crew, everything else faded into the background.

His lips brushed against your neck, his breaths hot on your skin as your fingers tangled in his hair. His hips rhythmically pressed against you harder, his kisses unrestrained as you felt yourself begin throbbing with need, the thin barrier between you doing little to dull the maddening friction on your clit. You wanted to stop, to break the moment, but you couldn’t. It was too good, too consuming.

Every movement of his body was fueled with desire, his restraint barely holding on, as though he was on the edge of losing himself completely to you.

Your body betrayed you, your hips tilting to meet his as he ground against you, intensifying the sensation for you both. Your breathless moans grew louder together, the heat between you unbearable.

Your heart pounded as his grinding grew more focused, his hardness pushing against your clit with intimate precision until your core was throbbing beneath him.

And then it happened.

You began to orgasm in front of the crew, the camera, everyone. Chills spread across your body, soft cries escaping your lips as your fingers clutched at him instantly. Your eyes locked onto his, blown wide, pupils dark and full of heat, mirroring the intensity of his own.

The flush across your skin deepened as he rocked against you harder, faster, his movements desperate, giving you exactly what you needed—what you both needed—and for a fleeting, reckless, moment, you wanted it to be real.

Then he slowed, his body stilling above yours as realization dawned. The tension in the room shattered like glass, leaving only the sound of your heavy breathing. “Oh fuck,” he whispered, his voice filled with shock and disbelief at what you both had just done.

Your eyes were blown wide, breaths panting as you stared at him, wondering how you would ever recover from this as your gaze locked onto his, desperate and unguarded.

The director’s voice broke through the haze. “Cut!” he called, his tone sharp, but you barely registered it, and Austin didn’t move, his body still shielding yours as he processed what had just happened.

An assistant rushed over with a robe as Austin finally began to sit up. Carefully, he lowered one hand to cover himself as he slid off you.

You couldn’t help but glance down, catching a glimpse of him, completely hard in the modesty pouch, before quickly tearing your eyes away, your cheeks flushing hot.

You sat up slowly covering your chest, your body still humming with the echoes of his touch, the intimacy of the moment lingering long after it should. The air felt heavily charged as everyone waited for the verdict.

The director’s sharp gaze was locked on the playback. “That,” he said, pointing at the screen, his voice cutting through the tense silence, “That is cinema.” His tone brimmed with excitement. “It’s raw— it’s real. It’s going to leave people speechless.”

The director turned to you and Austin, his eyes wide with unrestrained enthusiasm. “It’s visceral, it’s unhinged, it’s… it’s perfect.” He praised.

The director’s words did little to ground you as you glanced over at Austin. He was still catching his breath, his face flushed, his eyes remaining on yours longer than they should. You couldn’t tell if he was thinking about the success of the scene or what had just happened between the two of you.

An assistant slipped your robe over your shoulders, snapping you back to reality, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing about this moment felt right.

As your eyes met Austin’s again, his expression mirrored your own—uncertain, searching.

Something had changed, shifted irreversibly in your worlds, and no amount of acting could ever make it go back.

After that moment on set, you and Austin reacted as though the intimacy of that scene, the rawness of what had happened between you, was just part of the job.

Neither of you wanted to acknowledge what it meant or the ways it had already started to change you.

On set, you now kept a professional demeanor, giving the crew nothing more to gossip about.

Outside of work, you avoided personal conversations entirely. The blog sites and tabloids, however, continued to speculate, fueled by the way the two of you had once looked at each other on and off camera.

By the time you reached the final scenes of the film, you’d both mastered a calm detachment.

You delivered your lines with precision, but the reality of what fueled your connection was always still there.

You had both learned to bring intimacy into a scene without even touching, communicating volumes through a glance, or a shift in your stance —because you both knew you could physically never let it happen again.

Then came the final day of filming, the last scene, a climactic kiss on a windswept beach as the sun dipped below the horizon .

You were both standing barefoot on the cool sand, the golden light casting everything in soft, dreamlike hues. The waves crashed gently in the background, the salty breeze tugging at your hair. The scene was meant to capture a reunion, a moment of undeniable love after so much struggle.

The director called, “Action!” and you moved toward each other, your steps hesitant, your breaths shallow. The dialogue was simple, sparse, but every word carried weight.

“I was scared I’d never see you again,” you whispered, your eyes searching his.

Austin’s voice was low and trembling. “You’ll never lose me. Not again. Not ever.”

When his lips met yours, it was supposed to be a kiss of triumph, of love finally won. But the second his hand found your cheek, the second your fingers slid into his hair, it all came rushing back.

The chemistry, the longing, the unspoken yearning. Everything you had buried came to the surface in that moment. His lips pressed to yours like a plea, his touch possessive but gentle, and you couldn’t hold back the tears that welled in your eyes knowing it was over.

As the camera panned around you, capturing the fiery sky, the lapping waves, and the raw emotion etched into both of your faces, the lines blurred again.

For those few seconds, it was everything you couldn’t say to each other spilling out in one final kiss and when the director called, “Cut!” the confusion in your chest was unbearable.

The set plans for your lives were already written, and you both followed them precisely.

You finished the wrap party with polite smiles and distant goodbyes, each carefully avoiding anything that might complicate the delicate balance you had both worked so hard to maintain.

The risks were too great, the potential fallout too devastating and you walked away, pretending the connection you shared was just part of the job—no matter how much it lingered in every quiet moment after.

Now, at the night of the premiere, the lives you once knew lay shattered in the aftermath of what you both tried so hard to ignore.

The choices you made, and the ones you didn’t, were cemented, the weight of it all hanging heavily between you, unspoken but undeniable.

The theater was buzzing as the cast made their way to their seats. You were ushered toward the middle row, where you’d been assigned to sit, but just as you were about to lower into the chair, Austin’s hand gently caught your arm.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low enough that no one else could hear. “Sit with me” he said with a calming reassurance.

You looked to him in confusion as he stepped past you and leaned toward the director standing in his row. “Do you mind if I sit with her?” Austin asked, his tone casual but sincere.

The director’s face lit up with amusement, clearly enjoying the spontaneity of the request. “I love that idea,” he said enthusiastically, already signaling to a nearby producer. “Let’s see how we can make it work.”

After a brief exchange with the producers, adjustments were made, and Austin turned back to you, his hand still lightly resting on your arm. “Come on,” he said with a boyish grin leading you to the now empty seat beside him.

“What is all this about?” you whispered as the two of you settled into the middle of the row, surrounded by murmuring audience members and the rest of the cast.

“We don’t have dates,” he smirked casually, his eyes glinting as he looked at you. “Might as well keep each other company.”

You couldn’t help but smile, resting back in your chair as the lights dimmed.

For the first time in months, you felt the warmth of his teasing banter, the ease you’d missed so much.

As the opening credits begin to roll, your eyes briefly flick over to Austin, catching the faint smile on his lips. You know the story playing out on the screen isn’t the only one unresolved, but for now, you let yourself enjoy being next to him again.

The movie is fast-paced, edgy, and captivating, and the audience responds with gasps and laughter at all the right moments. Austin leans in close every so often, whispering his thoughts about certain scenes.

His voice is low, his breath warm against your ear, and you find yourself looking forward to his comments each time.

He points out details you hadn’t noticed during filming, his passion for the craft shining through, and the familiarity of it makes you feel like nothing has changed between you.

But then, the scene begins—the two of you standing in front of the apartment building at night, neither of you willing to part ways without a proper good night.

The kiss unfolds on the massive screen, larger than life. The camera lingers on every detail, the way his hand cradles your face, the tilt of his head as his mouth moves against yours.

His lips press hungrily devouring you with a desperation that is both overwhelming and impossible to look away from.

On the massive screen, it’s almost too much. Every sigh, every gasp, every subtle shift of your bodies together is magnified, filling the theater with an intensity that leaves the audience silent.

You can feel the weight of Austin beside you, his stillness matching your own, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. The tension is too heavy between you.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest, knowing exactly what’s next. The tension in your body rises, unbearable, until you can’t take it anymore.

Quickly you stand before the sex scene starts, whispering a quiet apology as you excuse yourself, weaving through the row and slipping out of the theater.

By the time you make your way to the hall ramp at the side of the theater, you’re gasping for breath. You don’t know if you want to go back in or leave entirely, but the weight of it all presses down on you. You lean against the wall, hyperventilating as you try to regain your composure.

“Hey,” Austin’s voice breaks through the haze. You look up to see him standing in the dim walkway, concern etched across his face as the movie flickers off to the side behind him. “You okay?” he asks softly, but you shake your head, unable to speak.

“Come with me,” he says, his voice steady and gentle. He reaches for your hand, his touch grounding you as he leads you down the ramp to a secret entrance. Pushing open a black door, he steps into an even darker space under the theater and guides you inside.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you follow him up a narrow flight of stairs.

“You’ll see,” he says, his tone calm but laced with something unspoken. He pushes open another door, and you step inside, realizing you’re in the projection room.

The space is larger than you imagined, dark and humming with the faint noise of equipment. The only light emanates from the gigantic projector system that dominates the room with a large vent on top channeling the heat away. Rows of digital storage towers line the walls, blinking faintly, while a white control screen displays the movie times and automation settings.

You can’t help but look around in stunned silence. “How do you know about this?” you ask.

Austin smiles faintly. “I studied everything about film. The technical side always fascinated me.” He reveals.

He leads you to the front of the room, where the flickering lights of the movie illuminate the glass.

From the window next to the projector, you have a clear view of the entire theater below. The audience is engrossed, watching as the sex scene you filmed together begins playing in vibrant detail across the massive screen.

“It’s better watching it from up here,” Austin admits, his voice quiet and reflective.

You nod, the intensity of the moment easing slightly as you take in the scene from a different perspective. The emotions that had been swelling within you begin to fade, the distance from the audience providing a strange sense of detachment.

Austin’s gaze remains fixed on the screen, watching the two of you together. The way the camera lingers on your bodies, the intense eye contact, and passionate touches. You both look beautiful—perfect, almost unreal, but the hidden truth of filming the scene lingers in both your minds.

“I could never stop thinking about us,” Austin confesses, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes still on the screen.

“Neither could I,” you admit, your voice quiet, tinged with vulnerability.

The air between you shifts as Austin’s hand brushes lightly over your shoulder.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he says, his voice laced with regret, his eyes searching yours.

“Don’t be,” you whisper, the words soft and honest.

His eyes look into yours , and you feel the weight of everything between you, the unspoken emotion that lingers. He leans in slightly, his breath warm against your skin, pausing as though waiting for you to pull away.

When you don’t, he gently pulls your face to his, pressing his lips to yours in a feather-light, kiss. The softness of it lingers, your breath catching as his lips move tentatively against yours, testing the boundaries.

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment, and his kiss deepens, building gradually, your mouths moving in sync as the tension that’s been simmering between you begins to spill over.

His hands frame your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as the kiss grows more intense, his lips parting against yours, as you feel the warmth of his tongue brush along yours.

He presses his body closer, pushing you back against the small side viewing glass, his breaths quick and uneven, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own.

The air between you is charged with unspoken need, heavy and undeniable as the tension that’s been building for so long finally begins breaking. Every inch of him radiates desire, and you can feel it in the way his hands linger on your hip, hovering just above your exposed skin.

Reaching for his hand, you guide it to the slit of your dress, feeling his breath stutter against your lips. His fingers graze the edge of your thigh, tentative at first, and then he exhales a deep, shuddering sigh as his palm slides further.

He’s lost in you, his touch becoming more confident, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties. The teasing pressure sends a jolt through you, your breaths growing shallow as his lips graze down your jaw to your shoulder and trailing upward hungrily until he finds your neck again.

His kisses grow feverish, his lips parting against yours as his hand lingers, his fingers gliding over your clit above your panties testing the limits of your desire.

Your body responds instinctively, moving into his touch, the tension between you reaching its breaking point as his name falls softly from your lips.

You feel him press against your thigh, his hardness evident, his body trembling slightly as he fights to keep control. Both of you are panting now, your bodies pressing instinctively against each other.

“What are we doing?” he whispers, his voice raw and laced with need, his lips brushing against your ear.

You tilt your head toward him, your voice soft but steady. “What we should have done a long time ago.”

His eyes search yours, full of want, full of the unspoken need that’s been simmering between you for far too long, and without hesitation, his thumbs hook into your panties, sliding them down until they fall to the floor.

His breaths fan over your neck, warm and uneven, as he grips your thigh and wraps it around his waist, pulling you close.

The way he holds you, the intensity in his gaze, speaks volumes. His desire for you is overwhelming, raw, and all-consuming.

He positions himself, the pressure building as the feeling of him pressing into you steals your breath.

He groans softly against your lips, your slick wetness making his need is for you overwhelming , almost too much for him to contain.

He’s incredibly hard, the feeling of him stretching and filling you inch by inch making your head tilt back against the glass.

He pushes into you slowly leaving you gasping, your body clenching tightly around him, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he claims the deepest part of you.

His hands grip your hips, steadying you as he pushes further, the tension between you almost unbearable until he’s fully inside.

He waits with his body finally flush against yours, the sensation overwhelming and utterly perfect, his breaths heavy as he grounds himself in the reality of having you.

Then he pulls back thrusting in devastatingly deep, each time like a silent promise, a claim that he’s pouring every unspoken feeling into you.

His hand slides up to your face, cupping your jaw as his kisses grow hungrier, deeper, his need growing with every stroke as he holds your thigh around his waist.

Your hands find his neck, your nails grazing his shoulders as he picks up his pace rocking you against the wall, thrusting so hard it makes you gasp.

His hands are everywhere—on your waist, your thigh, sliding down to grip your hips and pull you even closer, then he locks you in place as his thrusts grow increasingly deeper and more relentless.

Each movement sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you breathless and clinging to him.

A moan escapes your lips, louder than you intended, the raw sound filling the room, and his hand cups gently over your mouth, muffling the noise as he continues thrusting.

His eyes meet yours, dark and filled with lust, as if the sound only spurs him on, his movements becoming even more intense.

His hand moves from your mouth, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter. His grip tightens on your thigh as he thrusts into you with a force that presses your body flush against the wall.

His cock hits the perfect place deep inside over and over again, until you feel yourself tightening around his cock, your moans turning into soft cries against his ear.

His hand trails down, slipping between your bodies as his fingers find your clit. He circles it with perfect precision, teasing and applying just enough pressure to make your body arch into him. The sensation builds, your hips leaning into him as every stroke and thrust pushes you closer to the edge.

“Austin,” you whisper, your voice breaking as pleasure coils tightly within you. His lips press to your neck, his other hand gripping your hip, holding you steady as he keeps thrusting, his fingers never relenting. The combination is too much, and with one hard thrust he presses his thumb against your clit as your orgasm crashes over you immediately.

The sound is stolen from your throat as your body presses against him, tightening every muscle as waves of pleasure ripple through you, leaving you shakily breathing in his arms.

Seeing you fall apart Austin groans deeply, his control slipping. “I’m gonna come,” he rasps, his hips slamming into yours as his rhythm falters.

A deep groan escapes him as he buries himself fully inside you, his cock twitching as he empties himself completely. The warmth of his release fills you, and for a moment, the world goes quiet, the only sounds your heavy breaths and the movie on screen.

Austin stays still, his arms wrapped around you as his lips press soft, lingering kisses across your neck. “What do we do now?” he whispers, his voice hushed, as he holds you closely.

You tilt your head toward him, your voice steady but soft. “We have to go back,” you say, nodding toward the monitor where the movie still plays.

He straightens up his chest still heaving as his eyes lock onto yours for a fleeting moment, filled with something raw and unspoken. Slowly, he pulls out, the sensation leaving you breathless, the emptiness almost unbearable after the intensity of being so full of him.

His hands linger on your hips as though he can’t let go just yet, and before the moment can slip away, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss savoring every last trace of your closeness together.

As you both move to fix yourselves he helps you pull your panties back into place as you pull down your dress. The urgency of the moment returns as your eyes flick to the monitor, and you both realize the movie is entering its final act.

Austin adjusts himself quickly, and together, you make your way out of the projection room. The cool air of the stairwell greets you as you tread quietly back down the narrow steps. At the landing, Austin slightly pushes the door open to ensure no one is nearby.

“I’ll head to the ladies room, you head back into the theater,” you tell him, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions still lingering. He grins softly, and leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips, then he heads one way, and you the other.

The entire theater is locked down for the premiere, the halls empty save for the occasional usher or security guard stationed at the front.

You make your way to the ladies room, pausing when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror.

Your cheeks are flushed, your hair slightly disheveled, and your lips swollen. You look like someone who’s just had the wildest, most unforgettable sex of their life and you smile.

Quickly, you fix your hair, and pat your face, trying to regain some composure before heading back to the theater.

The usher’s flashlight guides your path as you return to your seat. The room is dark, the audience engrossed in the movie. As you pass Austin, his hand grazes your hip, subtle but deliberate, and you bite back a smile, sliding into your chair beside him.

As the movie plays, you steal knowing glances at each other in a quiet, an intimate reminder of your stolen moment together.

As you watch the ending of the film, he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come with me after this,” he whispers, his voice low and full of meaning as he plants a soft kiss just below your ear.

The theater lights raise as the credits roll, and the room erupts with applause.

All eyes turn toward you and Austin, the stars of the night, and you quickly slip apart, trying to maintain composure. You stand as the cast rises to their feet, and the cheers grow louder as you all take in the standing ovation.

Austin glances at you, his smirk unmistakable as he takes your hand, his grip firm yet playful. He leads you out of the theater, his arm draping casually around your shoulders as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

As you walk together, people congratulate you both, praising the brilliant performance and the film’s success. “Incredible work, you two,” one of the crew members says. “The film is a masterpiece.”says another.

As the praises come flooding in, Austin only smiles, his attention only on you, as if nothing else matters in the moment.

You step into the flow of the crowd in the lobby, surrounded by the excited energy of the cast and audience alike all swept up in the afterglow of the film’s success.

At the front of the theater, the scene is chaotic. The red carpet glimmers under the bright, unrelenting lights, the velvet ropes barely containing the swarm of photographers and reporters, as cameras erupt into flashes.

Austin looks to you, his eyes filled with mischief. “You think the headlines tomorrow will be about our incredible movie?” he asks leaning in closer, his tone filled with that familiar charm. “Or about us?”

END 🎥

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[supernovafics]

𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k words

summary: in which it was a drunkenly suggested idea that actually didn’t sound too bad, and it was somehow easy to turn your friendship into something a little different. the hardest part should be keeping it a secret, but instead, it’s making sure that things don’t change more than they already have

warnings: explicit language, friends with benefits, sexual tension, implied smut, a lil angst 

author’s note: first time writing for eddie (finally!) this is slightly based off the song “homegirl” by king princess. specifically the line “we’re friends at the party, i’ll give you my body at home.” more eddie stuff coming soon? eventually? maybe..?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

From the beginning, you both had the same understanding of what this was.

Two friends having fun every once in a while. Two friends doing things that two people who were just friends wouldn’t do with one another. Two friends that wanted something completely and utterly not serious because they both had just gotten out of shitty relationships and weren’t in the right headspace to commit to anything. 

You and Eddie agreed on it all. 

And you two also agreed that you could never tell your friends about what you were doing. 

You could only imagine the concerned and confused looks that would’ve been shared amongst them all if you and Eddie sat them down and told them about what had been happening for the past five months. Steve would think it was kinda weird and so random. Robin would say the same thing and also add that you two being each other’s rebounds would only mess things up within the friend group in the long run. Nancy would go on and on about how this was not the way that you two should’ve been coping with your respective break ups, etc, etc. 

Neither of you wanted to hear any of it, so with hushed whispers and the linking of pinkies in the middle of the night— moments after you two had drunkenly made out in the bathroom of The Hideout and were debating on whether or not you should move things to the back of Eddie’s van that was parked right outside— this quickly became the best kept secret. 

During group hangouts and other social situations, you and Eddie were just friends— nothing more, nothing less— but when you were alone, it was different. 

In a way it was fucked up, and on some level you both could recognize that. Falling into each other’s beds most nights was definitely not a good way to cope and deal with everything, just like Nancy would’ve told you both, but so far it was working perfectly fine. And how easy and okay it all was— how it somehow never felt weird or wrong to flip that switch and change your friendship into what it now was— only sometimes confused you. 

And just for a moment, as you and Eddie sat in his van outside of Steve’s house, you were hit with that confused feeling that also slightly surprised you. It was fleeting, as quick as it came it was washed away, and then it was forgotten. 

“Come on,” You mumbled against his lips before fully pulling away. “We need to go inside before they think we got into a tragic car crash while going to get this fucking ice.” 

“One more minute,” Was all Eddie said in response as his lips found your neck. 

You savored the feeling for a second before your hands came up to his chest to softly push him away. “Nope, no way. Do not give me a hickey right now, Munson.”

He only laughed and you simply rolled your eyes at the sound as you opened the door and stepped out of his van. You headed to the back and Eddie followed suit, opening the doors so that you two could grab the ice that you’d been tasked with getting forty minutes earlier. You picked up one and he grabbed the other two, and then you pushed the doors back shut with your free hand. 

“How you getting home tonight?” Eddie asked you. You knew what his question really meant— Are we going home together?

“Not sure yet. Might stay with Robin since it’s her birthday and she said she’s probably gonna just spend the night here. Or I’ll drive with Nance,” You answered, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. 

Neither of those things would end up happening, you knew that you’d probably be leaving here with Eddie in a few hours. But it was nice to tease him right then, push his buttons a bit. 

He only smiled at you, easily reading through the bullshit laced within your words, and was completely okay with playing along. “Okay, got it. I guess I don’t have to worry about bringing you home.” 

“Guess not.”

You two were already standing in front of Steve’s front door, but you simply held Eddie’s gaze for a few beats longer, the smallest smile playing on your lips, before you pushed the door open and the teasing conversation immediately became drowned out by the music. 

Steve waved you both over to the kitchen. “Finally, you’re back.” 

“There was some traffic,” Eddie told him and Steve surprisingly didn’t question the excuse— even though there being traffic in Hawkins was an insanely far-fetched statement to make. 

You handed the bag of ice in your hand over to Steve, which he put in the freezer and then he and Eddie poured the others in the coolers that sat on top of his kitchen island that had beers and sodas in them. 

You were about to walk away— see if you could find Robin, maybe wish her happy birthday for the third time tonight— but Steve slung an arm around you before you could. “I need you to be my beer pong partner.”

“Y’know, Steven, I don’t think it can really be considered as a partnership if I’m the one doing all of the work to make us win,” You said, but still let him drag you to the table littered with red solo cups anyway. 

Two rounds of beer pong later, both of which you and Steve— mainly you— won, you were slightly tipsy. Definitely nowhere near drunk enough to do the karaoke that was set up in the living room, like Robin, Vickie, and Nancy. Although you did enjoy their very theatrical and soulful performance of Somebody to Love by Queen. 

However, you were just the right amount of tipsy to smile when you spotted Eddie through the throngs of people, smoking weed on the couch and talking to Gareth. A part of you wanted to walk over and settle yourself in his lap, but thank God your thinking was still somewhat logical and you reminded yourself that you couldn’t do that. 

Instead, you settled for sitting on the arm of the couch and feet resting on the dark cushion, close enough to Eddie but not so much that it would raise a thousand alarm bells by your friends if they saw you two right then. He looked up at you for a brief second, giving you a small smile that practically melted your insides, and you were the one who had to pull your eyes away from his first. 

A silent conversation played out in a matter of seconds— he held the joint out toward you in offering, not even breaking the conversation with Gareth as he did so, and you grabbed it, taking a long drag before handing it back to him. 

You were only half-paying attention to what they were talking about, some new horror movie that you hadn’t gotten around to seeing yet. All you could really focus on was Eddie moving a bit and leaning against your legs. 

It wasn’t something that was entirely un-innocent— you could’ve easily pictured Robin or Steve or Nancy doing the same thing— but coming from Eddie it nearly drove you insane, and you had a feeling that he knew that. It was always the simplest of touches that made you essentially fold for him, when he’d place a hand on your knee whenever you were in the passenger seat of his van or when his hand would find the small of your back whenever you were at The Hideout and surrounded by way too many people. 

And it was especially easy to fold when you weren’t fully sober.  

You looked down at him and noticed the smirk on his face and you had to hold back your eye roll. If he was going to tease you, you were willing to do the same back. 

You abruptly got up from the couch. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” 

You didn’t wait for his response before you started walking away, but you hoped that he picked up on the request that was hidden beneath your words. 

The first floor bathroom was luckily empty and you flicked on the light as you closed the door behind you and faced the mirror above the sink. You were only looking at yourself for a brief second before the door opened and you turned around to face Eddie. 

The same fucking smirk was on his face as he pushed the door closed and locked it behind him and then immediately reached out for you. “C’mere.”

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head as you stepped back away from him. “I just wanted to talk.”

He let out a small laugh at that. “Okay, yeah, let’s talk.”

You leaned back against the sink and looked up at him. “So, what was that movie you and Gareth were talking about?”

He stepped closer to you, closing a bit of the small distance between you two. “A dumb horror movie.”

It was hard to ignore the feeling of his hands coming up to your waist, but you still did so anyway and you didn’t push him away. “Okay, so I shouldn’t go see it?”

Eddie only shook his head no in response. He started slowly rubbing your sides, his warm touch practically burning a hole in the dark high-waisted jeans you were wearing. 

“Do you have any recommendations?” You asked as your arms came up to loosely circle his neck. “I wanna watch something I haven’t seen before.” 

He didn’t answer your question that time around and instead leaned in to kiss you. But, you turned your head at the last second and he groaned into your neck, which only made you smile. 

“We can watch any movie you want right now if you let me take you home,” He mumbled, lips humming against your neck. 

“I have a feeling that we wouldn’t be watching the movie if that happened,” You said and held back your laughter at the second groan he let out. “And besides, we can’t leave yet. The cake hasn’t been cut and we haven’t even sung happy birthday. Don’t you remember how birthday parties work, Munson?”

“Your pretty face is making it really hard to remember anything, sweetheart,” He told you, pulling away and a hand came up to stroke your cheek. The cool feeling of the rings on his fingers brushing your skin was a nice contrast to the burn of your cheeks. 

Things had been changing recently, a shift that neither of you wanted to acknowledge just yet; maybe because it was hard to tell what exactly was changing. And so, things kept continuing as it was.

You shook your head a little and let out a small laugh. “Always such a charmer.”

That time when he leaned in to slot his lips against yours, you didn’t turn your head away. 

“Only for you,” He playfully whispered against your lips. 

He pulled back before either of you could even think about making the kiss deeper and he looked at you so sweetly. You suddenly wished that the light was off and it was dark right then so that you didn’t have to see his face. 

That confused feeling was back, and you finally understood what it meant. It hit you so abruptly and harshly, it almost felt like you were finally being shaken awake to what was so obvious. You liked him— more than just a friend, more than you ever let yourself think before. And you almost instantaneously came to the conclusion that this, the way you were feeling, was entirely one-sided.  

When this first started, it was because both of you were essentially embracing that old saying of “if you wanna get over someone, get under someone else,” and it worked for you. And it wasn’t just the sex, it was the half-awake pillow talk moments after and listening to music in his van as you two sat outside your house when he was dropping you off that meant the most to you, that helped you actually get over your ex and his shittiness. But, you didn’t think that it was the same way for Eddie. 

He loved his ex, anyone with two eyes could see that. And he still loved her, more so than he let on, and that felt like something only you could see. The longing look on his face whenever he talked about her to you, the nostalgic smile he’d get whenever he mentioned something good about how they used to be. It was obvious how he still felt. 

And just like that, the spell that you’d been cast under in this moment was broken. 

You let out the smallest sigh and detangled yourself from him, letting your arms fall to your sides. 

He looked at you, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Maybe everything. “I’m gonna get some water.” 

You were pulling yourself out of his grasp and brushing past him toward the door, but Eddie’s hand found yours before you could twist the lock. 

Reluctantly, you met his eyes and his voice was soft as he spoke. “You can tell me anything, remember?” 

A few minutes ago that felt entirely true, now you weren’t so sure, but you still nodded anyway. “I know.” 

“So, what happened in the last thirty seconds?” 

A part of you wanted to say it. A part of you wanted to be honest with him. 

But, you couldn’t. 

Because you were convinced of what the outcome would be if you did— you could already imagine the sad and pitying look that would cross his face and essentially say it all. If you told the truth in this moment, it would fuck up your friendship and it would fuck up what you two had turned your friendship into. Therefore, you came to the quick decision that you could bury it all down for however long you needed to so that you didn’t mess anything up.

You bypassed Eddie’s question and instead closed the newfound space between you two, pushing yourself up on your toes and pressing your lips against his. The kiss was different this time around, it was no longer soft and teasing. It was deeper, more needy and desperate, and Eddie reciprocated in a matter of seconds. He turned you both around so that you were pressed up against the sink again and he immediately lifted you onto it, barely detaching from your lips in the process. 

If the circumstances were different, you would’ve fully let him do whatever he wanted to do to you in this bathroom. But, things wouldn’t go farther than this in here; not in Steve’s house, not with your friends just down the hall.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, your lips brushed against his ear as you spoke. “I want you to take me home tonight.”

The smile Eddie gave you made your heart constrict in your chest. It almost made you want to blurt out how you were feeling right then because maybe just maybe he actually did feel the same. 

But, of course, you didn’t say anything. You had another secret to keep and you would force yourself to be entirely okay with that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch.2

A/N: Hey y'all! Happy New Year. I just want to thank you guys for the love on my first chapter! It's very encouraging and lets me know that I'm doing something right, haha. Anyways, I greatly appreciate you all for checking it out and I look forward to continuing the story between you and our favorite edgy girl. Btw if anyone knows the name of currency in Zaun, please let me know. A quick search brought me to a reddit comment that said the currency might be called 'cogs', so until I know what it is for sure, I'll be using the word 'cogs'. Enjoy!

MDNI (18+ only)

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, possible drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts

Word Count: 3k

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

The ache of a hangover was Violet's usual alarm system. Her eyes fluttered open as she brought her hand to her forehead as her face twitched into a grimace. Despite the lack of lighting in her room, the lights of Zaun peeking through the slits of the makeshift curtain was enough to make her eyes squint. Her legs were elevated on her bed, the rest of her body on the floor. She slowly rolled over and stood up, empty glass bottles around her clinking and wheeling away with every nudge of her body.

A low groan erupted from her mouth when she picked herself up all the way, and she staggered a bit on her way to the bathroom. Oddly enough, she did not throw up from the hangover as she normally does each morning. The headache was still pretty bad, but compared to the past few weeks it seemed like one of the more tolerable ones. Did she do anything differently last night? She ran the sink and looked at her reflection as she tried to remember any unusual forks in the road that interrupted her continuous downward spiral. Maybe Loris took her home earlier than usual-- she couldn't remember too well.

Violet splashed her face with water, not bothering to clean off the entirety of the black smudges of makeup on her face. Instead, she just used yesterday's makeup smears as a guide for today's makeup. When all was done, she dragged her feet back to her room, kicking away empty bottles. She jumped slightly when her boot kicked something that did not sound like glass. It sounded way different. Her eyes tracked an empty plastic cup that was in the middle of rolling underneath her bed. She bent down to pick it up before she lost interest in it. With furrowed eyebrows, she rotated it in her hand before bringing it to her nose. It didn't smell like alcohol, so what gives?

Her mind fog cleared up slightly when she remembered a blurry image of (s/c) skin and (h/c) hair. A bitter feeling. The shape of that stranger disappearing into the crowd. A plastic cup of water.

Instead of tossing the empty cup aside like she has countless of bottles, she set it aside on a higher surface. Before she walked out of her little apartment, she glanced back at that cup once more before leaving.

Violet's self-destructive cycle continued. Pregame before the fight, whoop ass, party, go home, tear up the punching bag, pass out. Pregame, fight, hookup, home, scream, wake up. Pregame, brawl, drink, go home, keep punching the bag, look at the plastic cup, wake up. Look at the plastic cup, fight, hookup, go home, punch it out, watch the dust collect on that plastic cup, wake up. Pregame . . .

*

It had been a few days since you went out to that club/bar thing. When you had woken up the day after, you had a nasty headache and the longest episode of nausea you've had in a while. That alone was enough to deter you from going back, but the temptation lingered and grew as time passed. All of your ex's stuff that you swore you'd give back or throw out? It's all still there. It's all still painful, and you want to get away from it. Yesterday you were about to start the cleanse with throwing at least one of their shirts out of your window, but instead you captured the scent of them on the fabric and couldn't bear to let it go. Not having the mental strength to get rid of at least ONE item pissed you off.

You really wanted to go back to the bar. The mind-numbing poison was just so delicious, and it took away a lot of the mental anguish. If people pour alcohol on flesh wounds to prevent infection, you can too. After all, your heart feels absolutely necrotic. One more trip tonight shouldn't hurt, right? Even if the last time ended on a somewhat bitter note because of that Vi girl. But it's okay! A person as wasted as she was definitely wouldn't remember such an interaction.

You had your own little cycle. Lay in bed, neglect your needs, cry, scream, wake up. But as the days passed, your food supply was running dangerously low. You had to search every inch of your apartment for spare change to pay the month's rent, so you don't have enough for food anymore. You could have sold your ex's things, but if you couldn't even toss a shirt out of the window then there was no way you'd be able to hand their belongings to a stranger.

Your ex-partner was the main provider of your needs, and you were unemployed. Finding a secure job that pays well in Zaun was as easy as unbaking a cupcake, let alone finding a job that was not shady as hell. Your ex was the reason you were able to even have a nicer apartment in the first place. It was far from being as nice as the idea of a Pilty's boiler room, but an apartment like yours is considered luxury in most Zaunite eyes. But like hell you would try to find a job like theirs-- a shimmer distributer. Too much competition, and it would take ages to become one of the big dogs like the ex is. Not only that, but the thought of contributing to ruining lives makes you feel a bit queasy.

Nonetheless, you were no stranger from doing what you had to do to keep yourself alive. You have to eat.

You are now walking the streets of Zaun, keeping your head low as usual. You lurked around the market area of the city as you tried to remember your old shoplifting strategies from when you were a kid. Unfortunately, there were not as many people around as you'd like to use for cover in case you get caught by any vendors. To help yourself blend in with most people, you wore some striped pants that most Zaunites had made a trend out of. Furthermore, you wore a face cover that hid the lower part of your face, and had applied dark makeup around your eyes to help you conceal your identity.

You stuffed your hand in your pocket and felt what little currency you had, which was just half of a handful of cogs. You slowly walked by a little shop selling a variety of fruits. The vendor was busy conversing with a couple of people. A part of you started to hesitate, but you knew that it was either act now or go hungry.

You grabbed a fruit, quickly hiding it away in your bag. Luckily, the vendor didn't notice. You let yourself walk around some more, disappearing into an alleyway to let some time pass before trying again. Your adrenaline was through the roof! It had been about three years since you've last stolen something. A part of you missed this thrill, so the guilt wasn't hitting you as hard as you thought it would.

You came back around, noticing another vendor that sold some bags of fish. This one would be a bit harder. That little stand was not busy, and the vendor seemed wide awake. You take a deep breath and walk confidently to the stand.

"Welcome. How many pounds of fish meat are you asking for?" asks the vendor. The young lady smiles at you, brushing her thumb against the large blade in her hands. She can't be that much younger than you, which is a good thing for your scheme.

"Hmm," you place your hand under your chin in thought, scanning the display.

"Everything is fresh enough," the vendor says with a chuckle, "the further to the left you get, the more meat there is." She fans her arm across her products, and you take note of the bigger bags on the left. Too big and too risky.

"You catch these yourself?" you ask, smiling at her.

"I do. My father taught me everything I know," she says proudly.

"Your father sounds like he really cares about you to teach you such a valuable skill. You must make him very proud! I wish I knew how to fish well enough to catch this many!" Your voice is very sweet, and your charm seems to be working because the girl's body language has relaxed tremendously.

"It's really fun. I can go on and on about all the strategies I've learned, but I don't want to bore you with all that," she muttered.

"No, no, please do tell! You might help me out one of these days."

"I mean I could, but that would mean less business for me!" she jokes. You make yourself laugh at her teasing, but you honestly do not care right now.

"It's so refreshing to speak to someone so kind here," she says, "Everyone is so on edge all the time."

"Tell me about it," you agree, sweat beading at your forehead from your internal tension.

"Anyways, have you made your choice?"

"I think I might have enough for that big bag over there," you point to one of the bags on the leftmost side.

"Ah, thirty-five cogs."

Of course you don't have thirty-five freaking cogs. You reach your hand into your pocket, only grabbing just a few.

"I might have enough--" you hold out your hand to give it to the vendor, but you make yourself drop them. They roll on the counter, and you can hear some of them fall to the ground.

"Oh, crap! I'm so sorry!" you gasp.

The girl bends down to grab some of the fallen cogs, "Oh, no worries!"

While she is distracted, you snag one of the smaller bags of fish and quickly stuff it into your bag. The girl stands back up with the fallen cogs in her hand, "Uhm, you only gave me seven cogs."

"What? Hold on, let me check my pocket for more," you shove your hand in your pocket and grab three more cogs.

"Dang. I think I overestimated how much I have."

"Ten cogs can get you a smaller bag," she waves her hands over the right side of the stand, "but it also has older meat in it."

"It's better than nothing," you utter, handing her three more cogs reluctantly. The downside of this ploy is that you have to lose a bit, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

She hands you one of the smaller bags, and you nod a quick thank you. As you depart, you hear her voice yell in a demanding tone.

"Hey! Wait a minute!"

In the past, those words were a telltale sign that you should run now. But for some reason, maybe because it has been a long time and your confidence isn't at its highest, you freeze.

She already caught up to you, and you turn to face her. Her blade was held securely in her hands. Your legs are tense, like they knew they should run but you cannot.

"I couldn't help but notice something," she says, her eyes narrowing at you. Your eyes dart to her weapon, and on instinct you slowly clutch on to your bag of loot.

"You're a fellow Jinxer!" she says, lightly bumping your stripe-panted leg with her shoe. You breathe a sigh of relief, but you mask it quickly with a laugh. You were finally able to look at this girl properly. She looked like an ordinary 'Jinxer' -- dyed blue hair, striped pants, and bold makeup.

"Yeah! Totally!" You reveled, looking down at your pants.

"I couldn't tell at first because I could only see your upper half, but I had a feeling you were cool like that!" she squeals, "Jinx is literally the best thing to ever happen to Zaun. Piltover will never catch her. Am I right? Her wanted posters are so iconic that I bet it'll end up on a flag one day," she gushes.

'Wow. I had a feeling that she was annoying, but she might be worse than I thought.'

"Yep! She's too quick for them! And... stuff."

Looking past this annoying girl, some man was in the middle of checking out the unattended stall. He was grabbing some of the bags and beginning to scamper off with his pillage. As if this vendor girl had some sixth sense, she throws her cleaver in the direction of the stand, and it hits the man in the knee. The man yells out, falling to the floor.

"What's your name?" she asks.

Your eyes went from watching the man try to crawl away to looking at the merchant in front of you, "My name? It's Caitlyn," you lie. Your brain threw out the first name that came to mind; the one that Vi called you for some reason.

"I hope to see you again, Caitlyn," she beamed, "Now if you excuse me, I have a crook to take care of."

And with that, she leaves you alone. You let go of another breath that you didn't know you were holding.

"Holy shit," you whisper to yourself. To think that could've been your kneecaps or something. You make a mental note to avoid the fish stand for a long while.

As you make the journey back to your apartment, keeping your haul close to you, you notice advertisements on the walls for The Pit. You walked past the fliers, and after thinking for a moment, you take some backwards steps to read it again. You tear one of them off of the wall and stuff it in your pocket before continuing on your way home.

When you finally get there, you sort through your two bags of fish meat. You cringe slightly at touching the raw meat, slightly disappointed that you were not able to snag at least one more bag. This amount would probably last you a week at most. When you were done cleaning them and putting them away, you return to your room with the fruit that you took. The skin of the fruit crunched in your teeth as you emptied your pockets. You had about eight cogs left to your name.

The folded paper slipped out of your pocket when you tried to search your pockets for more cogs. You pick it up and read it over again as you eat the fruit.

Your eyes glance over at the scarce amount of currency, then back at the paper. Your mind went to the scraps you call 'this week's ration' that you had to steal, then you focused on the paper in your hand again. You heard the man's scream in your head, being able to picture yourself getting cleaved in the legs too. Again, you read the paper. You look around your comfortable apartment. Back to the paper.

You trace your finger to the list of the names of the contestants, trying to figure out which name sounds the toughest. Which one of these names sounds like a winner?

The name 'Vi' catches your attention. The memory of her trying to peacock herself to you by proclaiming herself as "top of the food chain" or whatever comes to mind. Her knuckles were pretty damn bloody. Her name wasn't as intimidating as all the other show-offy names, but what the hell.

You quickly change your clothes, shedding your Jinxer disguise. The area The Pit is in is quite the distance from your area, so you make haste. You grabbed the last of your cogs in your hand, holding them close to your heart before taking off. You had to evade a lot of crowds as you ran through the city, fearing to be late for the fight.

Luckily, you made it pretty early to the arena. Your dark makeup from earlier was smeared down your face, your chest heaving from all the running. This is not your most graceful moment.

You waited in a queue to place your bet, bouncing on your heels anxiously as you contemplate changing who you're betting on. Your ears are picking up on people discussing who and why they are betting on specific people. But you frequently hear the name 'Vi' among the people, which is a little reassuring. You look into the palm of your hand at your last cogs, a worried look on your face.

'I guess I'm really going to bet the last of it,' you think to yourself.

Then, you're up next. You walk up to the person behind the counter.

"Let me guess, you're placing a bet on Vi," says the man. You blink at him, wondering how he knew. He makes a gesture with his hand around his face, "Your makeup. Lots'a her fans got that whole smeared black makeup kind of look."

Oh.

You place your eight cogs on the counter. The man looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, "That's it?"

"Yeah." You answer shortly. The man stifles a laugh while he picks up the currency, shaking his head as he grabs a ticket for you and says, "Okay then."

You follow the rest of the crowd to the seating area. You take a seat in the far back of the arena while you wait for the match to start, which seems like it's only a matter of minutes. With your leg bouncing in anticipation and ticket clutched in both hands, you say a soft prayer to whatever god will listen.

For a moment, you wish you never placed a bet in the first place. The only memory of Vi you have is her being completely wasted. How in the world is a person like that a frontrunner? You should have just grown a pair and sold your ex's things. If Vi loses, you might as well make the most of your last month in your nice apartment before fleeing from the area completely to avoid being put on some kind of hitlist for not paying rent. Or worse: ask them to come back.

Before you know it, the announcer's voice is filling the entire arena. The fight has officially begun.

End of Ch. 2

Ch. 1 Ch. 3

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Disclaimer: Please do not pour alcoholic beverages on wounds.

If you are struggling with alcohol use, I found a website that can help you find resources here.

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Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo

[shotanzz]

is it me or do i like men groveling

can i request riize second chance romance if that makes sense:’)

(ur work is amazing pls continie keeping us happy^^)

i love groveling men too it’s ok anon 😗

RIIZE SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE ~ based on their birth charts

reminder this is just based off of my opinion after looking at their birth charts and what I think would happen from my own observations these things are not exact fact unless they said it themselves !

Shotaro

SO MUCH ANGST OOOH MY GOF. Would be the most mature on the outside but on the inside he’d be ☹️☹️☹️. “I don’t even care about what she’s doing” [checked your instagram and other socials to see if you’re grieving as well or seeing someone new] He wouldn’t necessarily go out dating looking for a rebound he’d focus on his craft in all honesty and might even seclude himself a little bit. I see him taking a break with his s/o instead of just flatline breaking up and once he feels like he has emotionally healed as far as he can he’d return and it would be pretty serious like in a private closed space he’d want to talk everything out and NEEEDS you to be honest abt everything but he’d just want you guys back together and for both of you to be happy.

Eunseok

(I feel like Eunseok is aware that he could potentially fall victim to the “the one that got away” trope) but anyway. He’d be the biggest nonchalanter to ever nonchalant 😭 might even try to stay mutuals/cordial with you. Would date, see other people, have a mini roster and fwbs going on. But as soon as he realizes everyone else is boring him and wasting his oh so valuable time (And he hates. To waste his time.) he’d get so irritated at himself for letting go of such a good thing and would criticize criticIZE CRITICIZEE himself. Forces himself to not run from/internalize how he feels he’d reach out again, wouldn’t be the most sappy return ever he might even joke about what happened but he’d be as honest as he could ever be and would surprisingly admit where he fucked up.

Sungchan

His pride and the hurt he carried during the time apart would hold him back so badly. Would improve himself and boss up similar to Shotaro to show you what you were missing; try to find attention and praise elsewhere. But when he realizes you did the same thing and also became better in every way possible physically, mentally…and that people still have their eye on you like they did when he first met you..he’d cave. Would HAVE to shamefully put his hurt and pride aside. Cue his dramatic serious text at 11pm and him asking how you’re doing to see if the good things he’s heard about you were true (prays you say no when he asks if you’re seeing anyone) would ask you to meet him somewhere that was important to you two and nostalgic. Almost kills him to be wrong but has to accept it 😭

Wonbin

He’d be like “whatever” since he knows that so many girls want to be in your place, might even consider sliding back to that one ex. Would be torn between just letting things go back to normal but his stubborn stagnant attitude would leave him stuck in a victim state. But then once the pain slowlyyy seeps in and that what you two had was something genuine and you were one of few people that actually understood him and physically compatible with him then on the inside he’d lose it. Would have a wayyy more sappy lovey dovey way of coming back. Cue him using music in some way shape or form as his way of coming back. Would probably want to physically see you in a place that he’s most comfortable with.

Seunghan

So so sassy. Honestly he’d walk away pretty fast but would miss you pretty fast right after. He’d hesitate but only because he knows that he probably got a little mean when you two split and that you might not even want to talk to him. Tries to go dating around but wakes up and gets it together once he sees/hears that you’re talking to someone new (10 extra points if it’s someone he doesn’t like or thinks isn’t even close to how attractive he is ) . Tries to be cool about it but is hurting inside, would ask everyone for advice. The emotional side would take over and he’d just have to listen to how he feels and think later. His way of coming back is essentially him outdoing whoever has you on their sights or him showing you the epitome of affection. He’d have to force his virgo mercury to work and speak UP and apologize.

Sohee

Would seem pretty ok and normal compared to everyone else similarly to Eunseok. Talks about you but wants to jump someone if THEY try to talk about you. (“can’t believe she’d do this” “yea she’s crazy asf” “Don’t say that 🫤.” ). (Cue him singing “When I was your man” by Bruno Mars 😭). He wouldn’t want to constrict and limit himself or you after the breakup so he’d also try to date/talk to other people. Has to give in and accept that thinking about you while hanging out with someone else is a CLEAR indicator that he needs to get off his high horse and return. He’d probably word vomit about how he feels about everything and apologize but also goes on this passive lecture on how you two shouldn’t allow each others feelings to rip you two apart like that again and the principle of it all.

Anton

Word vomit pt.2. Could go two ways. Way one if the breakup was on good terms/mutual after the breakup he’d probably remain friends or still be in contact with you, then once he realizes he can’t just move on at the snap of his fingers and realizes that every person he’s with has resemblance to you whether it’s physical/personality he’d impulsively talk to you and get right back if he can. If it was on bad terms it’d feel pretty cruel ngl like you’d feel like he kinda just disappeared and made his way elsewhere..but once he’s alone with his thoughts he’d have to realize the errors of his way or the faults on his side he’d IMPULSIVELY come forwards with how he feels, would probably ask you to dinner and have the conversation there and says everything that he has to.

[yourabsolutemother]

At Sundown Chapter 2

!!MDNI!!

Chapter 1 here

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A/N: Sorry this took me so long, I got sick 😭 We’re going to ignore how I gave Ghost blue eyes last time. IT’S FINE. I hate this chapter, I'm so sorry pfft. Also sorry if it feels unnatural if I call Johnny ‘Soap’, I’m dyslexic and having John and Johnny makes it hard for me to follow. 

CW: Military inaccuracy, accent inaccuracy, possible lore inaccuracy, typical a/b/o sexism and classism, cursing, slightly suggestive, reader is referred to as they/them but is afab, but reader is referred to as a woman sometimes (I try my best to make it gender neutral but I’m not the brightest), everyone is kinda being unfaithful, ‘fat’ and ‘whore’ are used as insults at two separate points, slight mention of verbal and physical bullying, mention of current political events, tiny bit of angst, mention of drug use, mention of taking medicine for anxiety

Chapter overview: Jasmine makes it up to reader, and John makes it up to Soap. Soap becomes interested in reader and it makes John a little uncomfortable

WC: 10k

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You are woken up the next morning by Jasmine jumping on your bed, making your bed rebound as she settles next to you with her hands reaching for you. You groan out and yank the blankets over your face, tightening your grip when you feel Jasmine trying to tug it down and away from your face. “Go ‘way..” You croak out, dragging out the sound on your words. You aren’t too keen on getting up so early when it is your only day off for the next few months. You start to relax back into the bed, the overwhelming urge to fall back asleep becoming too much for your tired and overworked body, when you feel Jasmine start to poke your temple. She’s being very persistent in waking you up and it only makes you want to scream in her face to get out. You might be a little dramatic in the mornings, just a little obviously. “Pup…” She whispers, waiting for you to answer while she traces shapes on your exposed shoulder. She watches as goosebumps cover your skin and you shiver at the feeling. She knows it’s your weakness, and it honestly isn’t helping to keep you awake. The repetitive motion of her finger is starting to lull you back to sleep. When you don’t stir, she starts to chant the nickname annoyingly.

“Pup. Pup… Pup… Hey Pup. Hey Pup, guess what? Pup.”

“Puuuuuuuup.” She groans loudly, flopping down practically on top of you.You shove her to the side before she makes contact with you, making her grunt as her face hits the bed unexpectedly. You sit up, groaning loudly and glaring at her through your sleepy annoyedness. Your blanket pools around your waist, fluffing as it catches air on its way down. “What do you want, Jasmine?” The sound of her full name on your lips made her wince on the inside, you only do that when you’re mad. She feels like she deserves it though, after how she treated you. You deserve to treat her in such a salty way. She reaches out and holds your hand, noticing how you don’t grip her hand like you normally do. It’s like she’s just holding your hand, instead of the two of you holding each other's. Because it is like that.  “I wanted to make it up to you for last night.” Her tone is very to the point, like she isn’t afraid to admit that she is in the wrong. That’s what you like about her, she isn’t stubborn and set in her way like you are. You thank her often for putting up with the things you put her through sometimes. She always reminds you that you treat her like that because you trust her and feel safe around her, so she’s glad to put up with it as long as you aren’t always acting that way.

You give her a curious look as she continues to speak, explaining her reasoning for waking you up so early on your day off. “It wasn’t fair that I made fun of you like that when you were upset.” She tells you, reaching to gently pull the blanket fully from your body, urging you to get out of bed so she can take you out. “I should’ve realized it wasn’t the right time.” She continues to tell you, her thumb brushing over your cheek in a maternal gesture. “I’m sorry, Pup,” She finishes, her voice carrying unwavering remorse. You can tell that she feels bad for the way that she treated you when you came home so stressed out last night. You needed someone to lean on and to comfort you, and she as a beta should’ve done a better job of doing so. She shouldn't have overlooked such an obvious cry for help.

You smile and sit up taller in bed, the blanket tangling around your feet leaving you arrayed in only your sports bra and shorts. Jasmine's eyes never falter from your face, her face lighting up when she notices your heightened happiness, seeing that her apologizing made you feel much better. To her, it feels like a small gesture, but to you it means the world. “I have a reservation at your favorite breakfast place. Let's go.” She explains to you, her eyes soft and appreciative. Your eyes light up at her words and you scoot to the edge of the bed, ready to partake in some free food.

You are quick to scurry out of bed at the sound of her words and quickly start to get dressed. “How did you even manage to do that?” You ask happily, your excited voice becoming muffled when you pull your shirt over your head. “It's so hard to get a reservation.” Your favorite breakfast place in your city also happened to be everyone else’s favorite too. It is constantly packed and they’re only open until 11. They only serve breakfast too which makes things so much worse. The food there is just so homely, tastes like something your mother used to make when you were stuck home, sick out of your mind. You miss your mom, but you try to stop thinking about her as you finish pulling on your clothes, now dressed in a white tank top and loose jeans.

Jasmine sits on the edge of your bed as you get dressed, her gaze staying upwards towards your face. She’s leaning back on her hands and her ankles are crossed lazily. “I have my ways.” She responds vaguely, and you know not to push any further. Sometimes she’s a very mysterious person, you learned very early on that if she doesn’t want to open up about something, she isn’t going to. It used to bother you, being used to people that you are close with talking about anything that is bothering them or talking about their day. But Jasmine hardly does. Since her job is centered around using her abilities as a beta to calm people down when the pressure is high, it seems silly to her to worry other people with her problems when she needs to be worrying about others.

You are giddy as you come out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth and deodorant. You grab your bag and throw it on, facing her with an excited energy practically bouncing off of you. Your orange scent is heavy and thick in your room. It makes breathing feel like it’s harder, almost like the air is concentrated. Jasmine smiles and stands up despite this, reaching her hand out for you to take which you excitedly do and follow her out of your room and downstairs. She is slightly taller than you, so you have to walk a bit faster when you are walking with her. She’s even walking at a slower pace as you are trying to keep up. It's happened one too many times that she gets distracted when in a crowded place and starts booking it, leaving you in the dust. You are used to seeing her worried face as she weaves back through the crowd to find you, cursing herself for leaving you vulnerable to nasty alphas and betas. Omegas can be awful sometimes too. She worries about you too much sometimes.

Your other beta roommate, whom you still don’t know the name of, is sitting at the island working on whatever he works on. He has his back to the two of you and doesn’t even acknowledge your presence, even as you get closer to the door. “We’re going out.” Jasmine speaks, her eyes scanning his figure. He just waves his hand dismissively and grunts, hunching over his work more intensely than before as if to say ‘go away, im busy’

You feel your heart drop the tiniest bit, hating it when people don’t seem to like you. You have gotten used to it at work, but you have a very solid wall between your work life and your everyday life, even if you hardly have days off. And with you and the beta being in such close quarters, you know this dreadful feeling will never go away unless he suddenly decides he likes you. “Come on, let's go.” You hear Jasmine say into your ear, her tone all-knowing.

You’ve known Jasmine for years, for as long as you can really remember, life with and without her blending together as the years pass. From what you can remember, you met her in kindergarten, you two didn’t share a class but you shared a recess and the occasional computer lab. Your mothers got tired of hearing the two of you begging for a playdate because you never got to spend any real time with each other, and set up weekly playdates until middle school when you had more classes together. From there your relationship flourished and you were friends all throughout school. The two of you went to different colleges and fell out of touch. Recently, you found out that she was looking for roommates and she let you stay with her for a lower rate than what she was originally asking. She had to give up her office and put her desk in her room so she could get another roommate to afford it, just so you could have less on your shoulders.

She did a lot of recreational drug use when she was in highschool, which you dabbled in but was never really fully into. She stopped smoking when she had to get a real job, since they do drug tests on her regularly. Her memory is a bit more foggy than yours because of how much time she spent high in school. burning her brain cells in the process you assume. She remembers it as, the two of you met in the third grade in the computer lab and she only asked her mom once before they allowed us to meet outside of school. The rest of the story matched up pretty well, surprisingly. There are a few things that she doesn’t remember. Like the six months in highschool when you two didn’t talk because she went through this whole ‘mean girl’ phase and decided you weren't good enough to be in her friend group. She quickly realized that the new ‘friends’ she made weren’t in it for the long haul and didn’t care a thing for her feelings. She came crawling back begging for forgiveness, which of course, you were happy to give. You had missed her the entire time.

She ushers you out of the house, shooting a glare back at your roommate, who doesn’t even notice the passive aggressive gesture, his face still buried in what you always assume to be paperwork. You take a deep breath of the fresh morning air and a small smile comes to your face. You haven’t been able to do much of anything recently because of how much you are working, it’s nice to be able to not think about anything work related. You don’t have to put in any tickets, you don’t have to deal with any angry alphas, or even any alphas that want something more from you. You don’t have to deal with the staff of the restaurant that despises you based on nothing but the fact that you are an omega. You are also excited to go out because you know going out with Jasmine means she is paying for everything that you are going to do today. You gave up a while ago trying to argue with her, she says her love language is acts of service. So buying your stuff makes her feel like she is showing her appreciation for you. You can’t complain too much, it makes you feel special.

Jasmine opens the passenger side door to her car and waits for you to fully get in before she closes it behind you, making her way to the other side of the car by going around the front. You put on your sunglasses as she circles around the car to the driver side, the dark tint eases the strain on your eyes from the harsh light coming from the morning sun. It’s just coming up above the horizon behind you. It’s glaring off the mirrors and anything around that is chrome. She gets in and starts the car, you are quick to connect the bluetooth to her car. Only after connecting do you take off your bag and buckle your seatbelt. Jasmine has been expanding her music taste recently and it's less than impressive. It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just not the vibe that you’re ever really looking for. You turn on the playlist title ‘Road trip/sing along’

Jasmine starts driving, with one hand on the steering wheel and her other arm resting on the center console. She once told you she always keeps her arm on the console so that she can reach over and ‘save you’ from getting hurt if something is going wrong. Like she can save you with an arm if the car starts flipping. Her fingers tap against the leather of her steering wheel as she drives towards the diner she’s taking you to. You can hardly sit still in your seat, happy to go after not going for so long.

The drive is around 45 minutes, since the diner is on the other side of the city and there is Saturday traffic. You sit with your legs crossed in the seat, watching things pass by the window. You get lost in thought as Jasmine drives, your mind wandering through memories and anxiously thinking about the bills you have to pay with your next paycheck. You are prescribed anxiety medicine by your doctor, a pretty high dose, but it still hardly helps. You’re just glad you don’t spend all night staying up worrying about literally everything. The medicine helps the insonia the most.

You are ripped out of your thoughts by a particularly hard break from Jasmine, Her fingers brushing against your arm for a moment. Your eyes snap to the road and see someone that had not seen a mail truck that is putting mail in a mailbox, due to a curve that hides it from our view as we come up. The car is able to change lanes and go around the mail truck, but there isn’t enough room for us as well so Jasmine presses on the brakes harder. Her hand presses against your shoulder, holding you back from going forward too far as she presses the brake pedal. Which is unnecessary since you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself. Sometimes she acts as though you are incompetent, but it makes it so you don’t have to do as much when you are around her, so you allow her to do it.

“I’m sorry, hun. That’s a really bad spot for a mailbox.” Jasmine apologizes with a slight laugh, glancing over at you with a slight grin on her face. You feel when she lets off of the brake and presses the gas, continuing down the road and getting in the other lane to overtake the mail truck. She only lets go of your shoulder once she is safely around the mail truck. “Did you know that if you hit a mail truck, unless they’re being really stupid, it's your fault?” You blurt out, watching the mail truck as you pass it. “It doesn’t help that mail truck drivers are like the worst drivers in existence.” You can’t remember where you learned the information, but you find it odd that they don’t teach it to new drivers. You turn your head and look at Jasmine, who is glancing at you with her eyebrows furrowed in faux judgment. “No wonder you’re unmated.” She mumbles, looking back at the road with a smirk and giggle.

You gasp and slap her arm, turning in your seat as your mouth falls open in shock. “Excuse me, ma’am!” You gasp, fighting back a laugh erupting from your throat. “That is so uncalled for!” You shriek, placing a hand over your heart, pretending as though she had hurt you. “And you’re one to talk. The last time you were even remotely close to finding one was in highschool.” You tell her, pointing a finger at her. She can’t stop giggling as she drives, trying to keep her eyes open so she can see the road. She is the only person you trust to make jokes like that about you. She’s helped you through countless breakdowns about the fact that you are unmated and too afraid alphas to mate with one, no matter how much your instincts crave it. You know that when she jokes about it, she doesn’t mean what she says because she's had to convince you of the opposite too many times for you to count.

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

When John wakes up and he’s in his room, cuddling with his pack while they sleep peacefully. His room is the master bedroom, it has two king size beds on the ground inside, pushed together so that they could all sleep in a cuddle pile comfortably. He’s laying closest to the right side of the bed with Gaz’s back pressed against his chest, their legs are tangled together. Soap is facing Gaz, his chin resting on Gaz’s head. Ghost is behind soap, closest to the left side with his face buried in the space between Soap's shoulder blades, snoring loudly. He lifts his hand from Gaz’s waist and brushes a stray hair from Soap’s mohawk away from his forehead, his thumb ghosting over the younger’s cheekbone softly. He places a kiss on the top of Gaz’s head, getting up and sitting just on the edge of the bed for a moment. He lets the memories of last night run through his head, how poorly he treated Soap when all he was trying to do was help. John sighed and stood up from the bed, pushing off of his knees with his hands.

He gets ready for the day as quietly as he can, trying to think of ways he could make it up to his beta. He could just wait for him to wake up and give him a verbal apology, but it doesn’t feel like enough for a beta that has to deal with two hormonal alphas. He pulled a shirt over his head and left the room, closing the door quietly behind himself before making his way downstairs. He walks to the kitchen and starts to make tea, planning on starting breakfast once it’s brewing. But a lightbulb goes off in his brain, finally knowing what else to do other than tell him how utterly sorry he is for being so rude. He quickly dumps the water from the kettle and books it back up the stairs, skipping every other step with quiet and practiced ease. The primal part of his brain loves the idea of taking care of his beta, pampering what’s his, showing him off. He slips back into his bedroom and hones in on Soap, who has now turned to face simon. Simon is on his back, one arm over his eyes while his other arm lays out beside him, Soap is using it as a pillow. Gaz has his front pressed against soaps back, his arms tucked into his chest as he curled around his bonded pack mate.

John kneels on the edge of the bed, just below Soap, and runs his hands up and down Soap’s calves. He does this for a little bit, paying special attention to spots where he feels knots in the muscles. The beta lets out breathy grunts in his sleep every time a knot slips from underneath John’s fingers, but still doesn’t seem to want to wake up, he just licks his lips and turns his head, continuing to let out pleased sounds from John’s massage. John huffs in annoyance at the shorter man's deep sleeping. He carefully places his hands next to Soap’s head, slotting between him and the two men either side of him. He leans over and brushes his lips over the shell of Soap’s ear. “Johnny..” He whispers out gently, placing kisses to the side of Soap’s face a bit firmly to wake him up. The larger man’s mustache tickles Soap’s face, making his lips twitch in his sleep.

Finally, Soap starts to wake up, his eyes fluttering open, being met with Simon's shoulder and John's arm. He lets out a hum and closes his eyes again, not wanting to get up quite yet. This makes John laugh quietly in his ear, leaning his weight onto the arm next to Simon and using his other hand to sort of lift Soaps head by his neck, supporting his mate's head with his fingers. “Ge' up, i’m taking you ou'.” John speaks, his voice hushed so the other two pack members won't hear him and wake up. Soap’s eyes immediately snap open at the mention of going out. He knows what that means. Food. He sits up in bed slowly, allowing John time to slide off and stand from the mattress. They both move carefully so as to not wake the alpha and the beta that are still asleep, watching as they squirm to find each other's warmth, making sure they find each other. Soap slides off the bed the rest of the way once Simon has Gaz in his arms and shoots a charming smile at Price. “Whit's the occasion?” He asks John, his head tilted to the side a bit in curiosity.

John takes a hold of his arm gently and guides him out of the room, leaving the sleeping pair to a peaceful and quiet bedroom. He slides his hand from the back of Soap's arm to interlace his fingers with the other man’s. “I wonted to make i' up to you for being such a cunt yesterday.” John explains, his voice now louder since they aren’t around sleeping people anymore. His voice is gruff and a bit crackly from sleep, it makes Soap shiver unnoticeably. “You’re a very good beta, don’' le' my behavior go to your head.” John continues, his voice now holding a hint of vulnerability, Soap knows he means what he says.

Soap leans against his side and smiles warmly up at him. “t’s ma job tae tak care o ye, e'en whan you’re havin an aff day.” Soap reminds his alpha, his thumb brushing over the back of John’s hand. John takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m glad you think so..” He admits, the breath he just took coming out, making his words sound all breathy. “It’s jus' tha' i feel like a good alpha, a real alpha, wouldn’' le' their emotions ge' in the woy of making sure their pack is happy..” He continues, his grip tightening on Soap's hand as they come up to Soap’s room, turning his head to fully look at Soap. The beta smiles reassuringly at John and places a gentle kiss to his lips briefly. “Ye are a guid alpha, John, don’t ye iver forget tha’.” His voice carries a very hard resolve, his eyes burning with a determination for John to really understand what he is saying. “youre allowit tae let gae sometimes, keepin things inside isnae guid. We're yer pack, we're here for ye na matter whit.” Soap tells him, poking the alpha in the ribs.

John can’t help but believe Soap, the look he is giving can convince John of anything. He can murder his entire family and pull this face and he will be an innocent man in John’s eyes. John's free hand comes up and cups Soap’s cheek, cradling his face in his hand as he leans in and kisses him lovingly. The taller man puts his heart and soul into the kiss, making sure Soap knows he loves him, and the rest of the pack, more than anything else in the world. He would give a limb for any one of them, easily. Soap lets go of John’s hand and rests his hands on John's ribs at his side, having to look up slightly to kiss him back with overwhelming emotion. John’s now free hand moves to grasp onto Soap’s hips while they share the intimate kiss. The rest of the world fades out as they kiss, holding each other close like they are afraid they’d be forced apart. Their lips clash and their teeth hit each other a few times, the pair not worrying about being polite about it.

Soap is the first to pull away, taking a deep breath through his nose as he rests his forehead against John’s. “Come in, I need clothes.” He mutters, sliding his hand down the alpha’s side before slipping off his body. John leans down and buries his face into Soap’s neck, taking a deep breath of Soap’s freshly cut grass scent. He lets out a little huff and sighs softly. Soap stands there, his hands once again finding his mate’s ribs. He holds on as John really takes his time to smell him, effectively scenting himself with Soap’s scent. “You smell so good. 'll never be able to ge' over it, I swear.” He mumbles, pulling away to look at Soap’s face. “Let’s go..” He continues, smiling as he reaches for the door handle.

Soap can feel his heart drop to his stomach and his throat starts to tighten up. He doesn’t know how John will react to the smell of an omega in his room. He prays that the omega next door, who is slowly catching his attention, isn’t in their room and their scent isn’t wafting through his room like it normally is when the omega is home. He doesn’t even notice the way he holds his breath as John opens the door and steps in. He tries to conceal his anxiety and steps in behind John, his hands going to hold onto the shirt he has on, tugging a bit on the fabric. Soap seems a little surprised when John doesn’t react to any smell, stepping in further so that he can smell better for himself. As Soap breathes in, he is relieved to smell that the omega is not in their room and his room was free of any smells as far as he could tell.

“Kinda smells like oranges in here.” John points out as he makes his way over to the bed that Soap hardly uses and sits down, leaning back on his hands while he looks at Soap. He wasn't looking at him like he wanta a reason as to why it smells so much like oranges, which makes Soap release the breath he forgot he was been holding. John continues to look at Soap while he racks his brain for things to tell his alpha. “Thare wis an omega at trainin last nicht thon wasn’t wearin scent blocker. Got aw ower me” Soap explains, remembering the lie that he told Simon last night. “Si haed tae scent me whan A came home last nicht” He tells John, connecting the lies to make it seem more believable if the two alphas are to ever talk about Soap smelling like oranges.

He feels bad having to lie to his alphas, but he doesn’t want them thinking that he is doing unfaithful things behind everyone’s back. The omega is infatuating, but that doesn't stop Soap from knowing that his place is with his pack. He isn’t so unhappy in the relationship that he needs to cheat to feel better about himself. He’s secure. The omega is just so interesting and engaging, that he can’t keep his mind off of them for more than a few hours. And knowing that they are only a few feet away at any moment when they’re both home makes his brain swim with intrigue

John just nods, completely unaware of the dishonesty coming from his beta mate. John shakes his head and scoffs a little bit. “Those new omegas need to have a talking to, they never follow the rules. There's a reason we wear scen' blockers.” John rants on about how disrespectful the new omega recruits are, a new wave of omegas that think they can change the societal rules that have been around for millenia. It is just safer the way they have it set up. Plus, if anything were to happen to them, not revealing they are an omega right off gives them a better chance of survival. The enemies they fought do appalling things to the omegas that are trapped in their claws.

Soap goes to his dresser and pulls out new underwear, socks, and two pairs of pants. He throws one pair of pants at John as he walks by to go to the closet. “Ye forgot pants, mate.” He laughs, opening the closet door to look for a shirt. Soap’s back is towards John as he fishes around in the hangers for a shirt he deems good enough. John stands up, Soap paying no mind to him since John still has to put the pants he gave him on. He jumps when John grabs his hips. “Wha' if I don'' won' to pu' pants on?” He asks, pulling Soap’s hips against his own. “Fuckin’ love yer scent, pup..” John grumbles against his neck. He pushes his nose right up against the scent gland in Soap’s neck, chuffing softly against the skin as his dick grows harder in the confines of his boxers. Soap chuckles and reaches behind him to swat John away from him. “Ye promisit me breakfast. Yer dick, unfortunately, will no be enough.” Soap tells John, finally pulling a shirt out of the closet. It is one of Simon’s old shirts that Soap stole from him, Soap doesn’t know that Simon knows he stole it, but lets him keep it.

John groans and immediately backs off when Soap tells him off, sliding Soap’s pants on. He has to suck in his stomach a little bit to button the pants, since John is bigger than Soap. Soap is tall for a beta, and so is Gaz, but John is still bigger. He doesn’t bother putting on a belt since the pants are sure to stay on his hips. He pulls his shirt over where his muscular hips muffin top out of the pants, much to Soap’s displeasure. “Givn’ me blue balls over ‘ere.” John mumbles as he sits back down on the bed, watching as Soap pulls his (Simon’s) shirt over his head. “Ye don' even care, do you?” John jokes, grabbing Soap once he’s done getting dressed. He pulls the beta to stand between his spread legs, resting his chin on Soap's muscular stomach and looking up at him with affected sadness. Soap laughs and threads his fingers through John's hair, looking down at him as he pulls a faux pity face. “Of course I do.” He says in a fake tone, pursing his lips slightly. “Poor poor alpha.” He continues to joke, cradling John's head in his arms. “Left high and dry.”

John huffs in amusement and pushes Soap away gently, glaring halfheartedly at him. “You suck.” He grumbles, standing up and shuffling to get past Soap. “Still smells like oranges in here. Did you ge' a candle or something? when are you even in here to burn it?” John questions, his head turning up slightly as he sniffs the air. He just stands there for a second, his eyes cast off to the side as he tries to figure out what the smell is. Luckily, you have been out of the room for long enough that while they could smell you, they couldn’t smell you. He shrugs and turns back to Soap, who is mentally panicking while he watches John. “Let's go, we gotta go. This place is apparently really popular.” John explains as he grabs his betas hand and leads him out of his room, down the stairs and to the car.

He keeps a protective hand on Soap's lower back as soon as they step outside, as if the two claim marks on either side of Soap's neck aren’t enough to show who he belongs to, who his alphas are. Soap is a large beta, a rare phenomenon that paired well with female alphas who might be a bit smaller, being mistaken constantly as a beta and taken advantage of. Soap finds it endearing how protective his two alphas are, but just a little bit unnecessary. He is perfectly capable of protecting himself and he would never leave his pack for some measly alpha. But that doesn’t stop John and Simon from protecting their two omegas like they are some tiny, helpless omegas. Not really, but that’s how Soap’s stubborn brain sees it. Soap sees it as them thinking that their beta’s can’t protect themselves or the pack, unlike the alphas who just see it as protecting their pack and making sure the strongest put up the most fight. Soap thinks it's better to make the load even between the roles, so the alphas don’t wear themselves out . Gaz is always the one who constantly hears the rants about how Simon and John treat them, having to calm Soap down and remind him about all the times that their alphas believed in his abilities on and off the field.

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

You and Jasmine finally make it to the restaurant, you clinging to her arm as the smell of alpha fills your nose. You try not to let the overwhelming fear of alphas get in the way of your day to day life, but sometimes it isn’t as easy as ignoring them. You keep your head tilted down so you don’t accidentally make eye contact with an alpha that might be in a bad mood. Jasmine leads you through the parking lot and towards the entrance of the restaurant, looping her arm with yours. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” She mutters to you, reaching over with her other hand to caress the back of your hand. You are practically clawing the skin of her bicep, your nails leaving crescent indents in her skin. She winces slightly, but doesn’t move to stop you from doing it. She understands your fear of alphas, why you are always so uncomfortable around them. Luckily for you, she knows how to handle alphas that are angry, because of her line of work.

You don’t know what you’d do without her, she’s like your lifeline when you really need her. Well, except for last night. She’s usually really good about comforting you, it helps a lot that she’s a beta and she’s naturally good at it. You think back on all the times that Jasmine has helped you and used her skills as a beta to make sure you know your worth. You are the person you are today because of her and her comforting words. Your thoughts are cut short as you walk into the restaurant, your nose scrunching as you smell all the old people who don’t bother putting on scent blockers after so many years. You can’t really blame them, it’s hard to care about what other people think when you reach that age. Jasmine handles talking to the host and guides you through the busy restaurant, pulling you along as you keep your head down. You always find it really annoying when hosts walk too fast, having to keep up and hope you don’t lose them is not fun. You like to go extra slow when it's an older couple at your job. It’s so sad watching them fight through the crowd while they try to catch up to the host that's walking too fast.

This host places down your menus on the table and bids farewell to Jasmine, not bothering to glance at you as he walks away back to the host stand. Jasmine doesn’t respond, she knows the type of person he is, it’s not hard to catch once you really know what to look for. You can really tell their classist when they pretend an omega isn’t even there like what just happened, often referring to the beta or alpha nearest to them when they are taking orders to order for them. It really sucks when you don’t even know the person they ask, it sucks even more when the person they ask is classist too, ‘Oh yeah they’ll have a salad. No one wants a fat omega.’ is usually the bullshit that spews out of the mouth of a person like that.

You and Jasmine sit down, she is facing the door so she can keep an eye on it. You just sit in whatever seat feels right. It’s one of those square tables that never have enough room for two people, let alone four. You despise tables like this, sitting in these with two people when you want to sit next to each other is really something designers should think about, and what interior designers should think about when using them. The feeling of your stomach dropping when you see these is all too familiar. It makes it so much harder for you to feel safe when Jasmine can’t protect you well, not because she’s lacking, but because of the fucking table. Not desirable in the slightest.

The restaurant is busy, so it takes a really long time for your waitress to even get your drink order. You're still waiting for her to bring it back and it's been ten minutes since she left. Her name tag had a ‘new employee’ sticker on it, so you give her a slack, as if you don’t give every waiter slack. This job sucks. You know how hard it is to be on your own for your first few rushes, especially when it's this busy. Her entire section is full and it looks like she has at least two eight parties. They really need to get a manager to step in, it's simply too much for a new hire to handle. You see her whisk by with a tray full of drinks, that don’t seem to be yours, and it looks like she just spent five minutes in the freezer crying. You can feel your heart clench in your chest. “Jas, can we tip really big..?” You ask your friend, turning your head slightly to the side to look at Jasmine. She has her thumb partially in her mouth, nibbling at the skin around her cuticle while she scrolls through her phone. “Hmm?” Jasmine asks,  tilting her head up to look at you, but her eyes stay on her phone.

You kinda scoff and push her phone so it falls towards her. “You’re supposed to be making it up to me for being mean last night.” You tell her pointedly, pursing your lips while crossing your arms over your chest. “Not ignoring me.” You continue, the cheeky look still on your face. Jasmine’s face kinda falls as she catches her phone before she sits up straight and tosses her hair behind her shoulder, interlacing her fingers on the table in front of her. Her phone now sat face down on the table. “Well, I’m sorry, Madame. How may I make it up to such a noble omega such as yourself?” She asks, purposely over exaggerating her words. This makes you scoff, kicking her slightly under the table. “Oh shut it.” You scold, furrowing your eyebrows at her. She smiles and reaches down to rub the sharp stinging in her shin. “Okay, okay, I’ll pay attention.” She gives in, holding her hands up in surrender.

You spend the next five minutes talking about life and how things are going in your respective workplaces, you end up talking about your new roommate. And while you’re talking about him, you realize how little you’ve actually talked to him. Actually thinking about it, you come to find that you have only said ‘hello’. It kinda rubbed you in the wrong way, maybe you had done something wrong. Were you too loud one night while you were crying? Or while you were… entertaining yourself? You hope not, the last thing you want is a roommate who doesn’t like you, it sounds like a life of misery. The waitress sets down your drinks in front of you, her hands slightly flailing in front of her while she rants on about why she took so long getting your drinks. Jasmine politely interrupts her by placing a hand on her forearm and smiling softly. “You don’t have to worry about rushing to get our stuff, we totally understand.” She tells the waitress, pulling her hand back to rest it on the table.

You can see the panic slide off her face for a moment while she rushes out a meek ‘thank you’ before rushing off to serve her more needy customers, her face contorting back to a look of dread. Jasmine sighs as she watches the girl weave through the crowd, getting lost in the sea of customers and waitresses alike. “Yeah.., we can tip extra.” Jasmine mutters, answering your question from before that you swore she hadn’t heard. Jasmine’s eyes linger a bit longer than they should as she watches the waitress rush through the crowd and disappear. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you put it in a folder in your brain to poke at her with later.

A smile bursts across your face as you hear the beta’s words, feeling the warmth of doing something good spread through you. This feeling makes all the bad feelings of being out and about disappear, it’s like you were never scared in the first place. You know that will all change as soon as you look up and see an alpha sitting not even ten feet from you, so you’ll save yourself the trouble and not look up. You always try to make people feel as though there's at least one person out there that understands what they’re going through or at least sympathizes with them. You know what it’s like to walk a road where no one is there to walk with you. How it feels to think that no one thinks that you can do things right. Jasmine is your person, you hope you are someone's person. You and Jasmine are the waitresses at this moment.

You ramble on to Jasmine for a few minutes while drinking your Shirley temple, talking about weirdly deep things that you probably shouldn’t be talking about in the middle of the busy restaurant. But who cares, it's very unlikely you’ll see any of these people ever again. And if you did, they won't remember you or how you talked about your childhood trauma in the middle of a breakfast rush. You feel that familiar tug in your bladder and you wince, knowing you’ll have to get up and make it to the bathroom by yourself. Usually, you are able to ask Jasmine to come with you. But, with how busy the restaurant is, you don’t trust to leave your stuff here unattended and come back to it untouched. So, you are forced to grow a pair and do it yourself.

You take a deep breath and mumble to Jasmine where you are going, a simple nod as she puts her phone down, that she had picked back up at one point, to give her attention to you. She wants to make sure that you make it at least to the hallway where the bathrooms were safely. She watches as you stand up and walk towards the bathroom, your hands clenched into fists and a determined look on your face as you glide through the crowd like it’s water. Thanks to being a waitress, you are able to get through crowds like it was no problem. You know when to take your chances and when taking your chance will lead to failure. It’s a pretty easy pattern to recognize once you’ve seen it a million times. You’re good at reading people, watching their mannerism like a hawk to spot hints as to what their next move is going to be. It’s necessary for your safety back in your original pack, where you were constantly teased and bullied. Turns out, it doesn’t matter if your father was a high ranking alpha in a multi-family pack, they still bully and beat the omegas. 

You're so busy swimming through the crowd that you don’t even notice another pair of eyes on you. Soap is watching you through the crowd as the host leads him and John to their table, which was in a corner. Your table is positioned in the middle, a little further away from theirs. The host smiles and pulls their chairs out before rushing back to the host stand, where there is a line of people starting to refill the lobby. It’s one of many, and definitely not the last wave. Soap lets out a little huff of air when he looks back towards where you just were after getting in his seat. He had almost gotten a good look at you. He noticed Jasmine’s car in the parking lot, when they coincidentally parked next to it. He’d recognized the parking tag that was required to be put on the rearview mirrors of residents of your neighborhood, since it was a gated community. 

John watches Soap as he scans the area near the bathroom, completely unaware he saw you, or that you are even here. John doesn’t really know who you are. He's aware of your existence, nothing more than that. He also isn’t aware of Soap’s interest in this new omega, how he craves to get to know her. It’s not like Soap is dying to get his hands on you, or that he wanted to hold you like he holds his mate. It’s just that you seem so elusive and mysterious he couldn’t help but be interested in you. He wants to know what your face looks like, he wants to know what your strong scent smells like up close. He just wants to know everything about you, learn how you work, what makes you tick. He wants to make sure that your packmates are treating you right.

 “Are you okay? Did you see something?” John asks, one hand reaching for the menu while his other reaches to hold Soap’s hand after a long period of silence. Soap just nods slowly and looks at John, blinking before he flashes his charming smile and saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Aye, some prick wis wearin a maga hat.” It is unfortunately completely believable, and John even buys it. He rolls his eyes and takes his hat off his head, placing it on the table furthest away from them. “Welcome to America.” He states with a grimace behind his tone, shaking his head as he reads the menu.

“Why i the hell did command send us here o aw places? they coud've pickit london an A'd be happier.” Soap complains, leaning back in his chair as his eyes go back to the hallway you disappeared into. If a Scot would rather be in Britain then somewhere else, it's a very heavy insult “If I knew, I would be having some very strong words with whoever made the decision. I mean, who sends three brits and a sco' to america for leave?” John complains back, not taking his eyes of the menu as he scans for something that sounds decent. Soap doesn’t hear John's response and John knows that “Can ye no like put i a request? A mean, canae ye use yer rank tae make someone move us ower the pond?” Soap questions mindlessly, knowing full well that there is absolutely nothing that John can do to make their situation any better. They are lucky they get a place as nice as they did.

“fuckers don'' even have a nice english breakfas'.” John groans, closing the menu quickly. He gives up on trying to find something to eat for right now, it’s clear from the line out the door that they wouldn’t get their order taken in a while. He scans the room for a moment before his eyes land on Soap, whose face has dropped slightly and a slightly shocked look crosses his face. John’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he follows Soap’s gaze to the hallway, where he sees you, a younger looking woman, walking out, your eyes making a path to what he can only assume is your table, standing in the entrance of the hallway. He notices the way your chest heaves slightly before you step out and book it to your table. The both of them lose you in the crowd, Soap is left with his gaze wandering, trying to scope you out in the crowded restaurant. “Who was tha’?” John asks, his eyes returning to Soap’s shocked face. He doesn’t answer, too caught up thinking about the way your hair frames your face, how your eyes seem so soft despite how panicked you seem. His beta instincts are reeling at the thought of someone he knows is an omega being in distress. But, it is a saturday morning and he knows you have a pack, the two betas. He knows someone has your back, hopes someone does.

“Earth to Soap.” John calls out gently, waving his hand in front of his face to get his attention. “Who was tha’?” He asks again, watching as Soap blinks and looks over to him. “Ah it's nothing, cap'n. Juist people watchin. Thoucht A saw someone A knew.” Soap told John, starting to feel horrible about all the lies he has been telling his alphas recently. He knows when they find out about it, because they will, he’s gonna be neck deep in trouble. He sees the way John’s eyes squint in disbelief, scanning the beta’s face for a sign that he is lying. After not seeing one, he nods and reopens the menu, continuing to search for something to eat in this hellhole with no traditional english. “Something is on your mind, beta. What's wrong?” John questions after a moment of silence, picking his breakfast choice before he closes the menu. “Is it because of last night?” He asks, his eyes holding a look of vulnerability as he looks at his mate.

Soap seems confused for a second before he breaks out in a laugh, that’s probably too loud for the space they are in. John sees a few people turn their heads and glare at the smaller man. “Why would I be thinking so hard about last night?” Soap asks, rubbing his thumb on the back of John’s hand comfortingly. It’s obviously bothering him since he’s brought it up twice already this morning already. “Ye didn’t dae anythin wrong. Ye have been a little snippy, but it's nothin we can’t handle.” Soap reassures him, smiling at John while he watches the battle behind his eyes. John lets out a sigh and his head dips slightly. “It’s jus' that, i stood up so quickly las' nigh' in my office, though' i knocked you over..” John breathes out, his tone remorseful. “And then i didn' even stop to make sure you were okay..” John continues, his grip tightening on Soap’s hand like he’ll suddenly get mad and pull it away. “juist stop thinkin aboot it, John. A'm okay. Ye're makin it up tae me now, thon's whit matters richt now. Aye?” It helps to calm John’s nerves for now, replaying Soap’s words in his mind whenever he feels insecure about it again.

The whole meal, John catches Soap looking past him and at you. He’s confused and a little offended. He took time out of his day to take out his beta, who he treated wrongly the night before. And here he is, distracted from the conversation, from his alpha, to look at some random woman in the diner that John had to fight for a table at. He doesn’t want to say anything to Soap, not wanting to point fingers and accuse him of something that might be purely innocent. Maybe they reminded Soap of his childhood friend, or maybe it actually was his childhood friend. But it doesn’t stop John from getting grumpy. By the time they are both completely finished, John’s face is hardened, trying to hold back from twisting his face in annoyance. He slaps a forty dollar bill on the table and motions for Soap to go first through the crowd.

Soap notices the difference in John’s behavior as they get up and make their way to the exit, noticing how John doesn’t grip the back of his neck when they go through a particularly thick portion of a crowd. He doesn’t hear the quiet growl that comes from John when he turns to search for that woman one last time through the crowd before they walk out the door. The beta frowns a bit at the lack of John’s closeness, but chooses not to say anything. John’s job is very stressful as their captain, and even when they are on partial leave, his desk is covered in paperwork, all the ones that didn’t really have deadlines, but still needed to be signed. He practically lives in his office all year around.

When they get back into John’s car, Soap immediately starts to project his calming scent for John, trying to ease the off putting emotions that whatever is bothering him is causing. He can hear John taking deep breaths of this scent as he pulls out of the parking lot, obviously not wanting to feel the way he is. Once he is safely on the road, he reaches over and places a hand on Soap’s mid thigh, kneading the muscles as he tries to calm himself. “Thank you, beta.” John’s voice speaks, sounding deeper and strained, like he is trying not to snap. 

And John is doing just that. He doesn’t like the way Soap hardly looked at him the whole time, giving his attention to someone other than his mate. It makes his blood boil knowing that someone else has caught the attention of his beta. His beta. John doesn’t want to be so possessively mad, but it is his nature. Protection and control has been drilled into his brain from a young age. But he doesn’t want to be one of those alphas that doesn’t allow their pack members to be free and do what they please. So he chokes back his ego and gives his pack mates the support they need. But he can’t help but feel like he isn’t giving them the support they deserve, no matter how many times they reassure him otherwise.

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

You and Jasmine finally make it home after a long morning and afternoon out, carrying bags of leftover food from lunch and from all the stores the two of you visited while out. You love it when Jasmine treats you to a day like this. They aren’t too often because you always feel a little bad that she spends so much money on you during the course of only a few hours. You almost always end up with a new wardrobe worth of new clothing, mostly ‘new’ from the thrift stores. The thrift stores are the only ones you shop at because you always find good things and it's cheap enough that you can afford a few new items every few months.

You giggle at the joke Jasmine cracks as you set the bags down on the kitchen island, having to push a few random objects out of the way with the bottoms of the bags before you set them down. “You know you didn’t have to buy me all this.” You point out, which makes Jasmine groan and throw her head back in faux annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you? I make enough money that I don’t have to worry about having a spending spree every once and a while.” She reminds you, her hand covering your mouth when you start to argue with her. “And I do not mind at all if sometimes I spend it on you. I can survive for a few more months without something new.” She tells you firmly, her eyes looking into yours like she is trying to drill her words into your thick skull.

You roll your eyes but nod anyway, simply wanting her to let go of your mouth. You’d get the last word somehow. She finally lets go of your mouth and opens the two bags of leftovers on the island. “Go on upstairs and I’ll come look at your new clothes and help you put them away, yeah?” Jasmine instructs gently while she takes one of many boxes from the bag and transfers it to the fridge. You waste no time picking up the rest of the bags and going upstairs to get all of them out.

You’re putting the last few items on your bed, laid out so Jasmine could pick which one she wants to see first when she finally comes in. This is your routine when you get new clothes. You lay them all out and she picks which ones she wants to see. She always wants to see all of them, liking the way your face lights up when you show her your new favorite shirt or socks. It doesn’t matter how little you get either, she wants to see it on you before you put it through the wash. It’s purely because you love the attention you get from doing it, basking in being someone's main focus.

The whole time that the two of you are doing this, you never hear your roommate. He is such a quiet person that the two of you have both thought you are alone in the house at one point, just to come downstairs in nothing but a t-shirt to see him sitting at the island doing god knows what. It’s lucky that he doesn’t ever give the two of you the time of day, so he never sees when you come prancing down the stairs half naked.

You spend the rest of the night giggling and talking about random things with Jasmine, slapping her arm and gasping in shock when she asks risque questions like ‘If you liked alphas, would you be a breeder?’ leaving you reeling in laughter, cause it just sounds so out of character for you. She has a tendency to forget about filtering her words, sometimes throwing out the most insane thoughts and phrases as soon as they pop into her mind. It has resulted in a few arguments in your years being friends with her, but other time you realized she doesn’t really mean any harm by her words.

You end the night with cuddles in your bed with your large stuffed animal. It is the last thing that your mother gave you before your pack kicked you out. It is the only thing that you have that reminds you of the once loving relationship you had with the woman that birthed you. You miss her. You miss your family. But you don’t miss the rest of your multi-family pack. The boys there used to tease you so much when you were growing up, and when you got older it turned into fighting over you. One gruesome fight was all it took for the pack leader to kick you out ‘in favor of peace and balance’. You thought your father and mother would’ve fought for you to stay, but they saw you as promiscuous and didn’t want a whore omega for a daughter to ruin their public image within the pack. They were the ones that really pushed for the pack leader to kick you out.

You fall asleep that night thinking about them, about your old life. Wondering how different your life would’ve been in the universe hadn’t been so cruel to you. You wonder if it will always be so cruel.

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

Tag list:

@horny-bish

@wizzdot

@ella-rose45

Let me know if you would like to be added :)

[himluv]

Ok. Here's my first attempt at writing Lucanis and Spite. This isn't my favorite piece of DA fic I've written, but I had to get it out of system.

Also, I am writing Lucanis as demisexual. That is my accepted headcanon, and I am writing it from personal experience.

Enjoy, I guess? 😂

(below the cut because spoilers?)

Lucanis leaned into his palm where it pressed against the stone just above Rook’s head. He felt drawn to her, pulled across the floor until there was just a feather’s width between them. It was such an infrequent feeling – this wanting – that he almost hadn’t recognized it the first time. Now, the thrum of desire through his body was unmistakable.

But did she feel it too?

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said, offering her a convenient escape route.

She smiled. “Sometimes the bad ideas are best.”

He couldn’t help smiling at that. It seemed she always knew just what to say. Like that night at the cafe. He’d felt a slight thrill at the table, a rush at how easily the conversation volleyed between them. It wasn’t until much later that night, replaying her voice in his head, that he’d ached with realization. She’d been talking about much more than how she liked her coffee.

“You like walking a little too close to the edge.” Again, a warning. He would push, gently, until she saw reason. Because, surely, once she looked close enough, she would turn away.

“So do you.”

She reached for him, and for a moment Lucanis thought she might hook her finger through his lapel chain and tug him toward her. His stomach flipped, his smile widened, and he couldn’t avoid glancing at her lips. Mierda, he wanted to taste her.

But she did not touch him, her hand hovered there at his sternum and a desperate flash of want pulsed through him.

This was dangerous territory. She had no idea just how close to the edge they were. How easy it would be for her to push him off this cliff, and Lucanis would fall helplessly in love.

He looked right at her, his gaze heavy. “At least I know when I’m doing it.”

At the edge of a cliff…

What if he chose to jump?

He closed his eyes, tilted his head and leaned toward her, felt her do the same –

– Crisp air, sunlight on water, smells like trees and magic. Arlathan.

Lucanis’s eyes snapped open and he pulled back so quickly that Rook gave him a startled look.

“I… need to clear my head,” he said. As if he could do such a thing with Spite taking up so much space.

Space, he needed space. Between him and Spite, but also between him and Rook. He needed to breathe. Why did his chest feel so tight?

He stepped away from her, his palm now pressed to his waistcoat as he gave her the tiniest bow. “Excuse me.”

Then he turned and hurried out of the room, ignoring the weight of her gaze on his back. He brushed a hand through his hair, tugged at his waistcoat. Lucanis was not a tall man, but it took surprisingly few strides to cross the dining room and step out into the courtyard. He took a deep, shaky breath and quelled the urge to rub at the constant itch behind his eyes.

This wasn’t like him. He felt jittery, out of control. Perhaps all the coffee mixed with the sleep deprivation had finally gotten to him?

She makes you nervous, Spite sneered.

Lucanis said nothing. There was no point lying to Spite, it would only encourage the demon to keep talking. Instead he headed toward the library balconies – they were the closest thing the Lighthouse had to a rooftop. He needed height. Needed perspective.

Surprisingly, Spite was quiet until Lucanis stood staring out at the blank expanse of the Fade and his heart rate had settled some in his chest.

Finally, the demon asked, why?

Lucanis sighed. “Why what?”

Spite growled, irritated at having to explain himself. Rook. Makes. You. Nervous. WHY?

Lucanis winced as the word rebounded inside his skull. “You don’t have to shout.”

Spite made an unconvinced noise.

“And besides,” Lucanis said. “You know why.”

Make it make sense. We. Like. Rook.

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose. “A little too much.”

Ahhhhh. Spite sniffed, as if savoring something delicious in the air. Scared.

Another truth he’d have to let lie between himself and the demon.

Let her in and get cut deep. See inside then turn away. Won’t want you. Oooh, or worse, she does want and then she di–

“Enough!” The word echoed out into the Fade, silencing the demon. “Enough,” Lucanis whispered. He didn’t need Spite to help him overthink all the ways kissing Rook could go wrong.

Want more than that.

The most surprising truth of them all. Lucanis could count the number of people he’d felt genuine attraction for on one hand. The only one he’d ever tried to pursue had misread him so completely he’d just given up.

As much as he longed for romance, he just wasn’t good at it. Love was something meant for characters in novels, or people like Teia and Viago. Not him.

Not love. What?

Before the Ossuary, Lucanis would have had an answer to a question like that. The Crows. House Dellamorte. Mediating peace between Illario’s ambitions and Caterina’s wishes. He liked being a Crow. He was good at it, and had never wanted more, a fact that had vexed Illario and pleased their grandmother.

And it was all gone.

Caterina was dead. In his current state, Lucanis was not fit to take her place as she’d desired. Illario would become First Talon, like he’d always wanted. If Lucanis somehow survived this contract, perhaps House Dellamorte would allow him back. Perhaps the future he and Illario had fantasized as boys might actually come to pass. Perhaps he and Rook…

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps! Bah!

Lucanis sighed and shook his head. Then he and the demon walked back to the dining hall in silence. And in that silence was another, terrifying truth.

For the first time in his life, Lucanis Dellamorte didn't know what his future held.

[minty-mumbles]

LU Mer AU - Harsh Reality

Summary: The story of how Wild's fins got scarred

TW: Violence and blood

AN: @breannasfluff some fish for you 🐠 🐟

(Read this and the rest of the AU on AO3)

~~~

Ever since Wild and Wind had joined up with another loner- an octopus Mer named Hyrule- things had been smooth sailing. It still wasn’t exactly easy, but with two hunters in the group instead of just one, it was significantly simpler to fill everyone’s bellies. 

With Hyrule there, Wild didn’t have to leave Wind alone when he went to hunt. Hyrule also had magic, a fact he’d hesitantly revealed to the pair three weeks after joining them in their travels. Wild was hesitant to ask Hyrule to use his magic, as he didn’t want to frighten the octopus away, but when one of them did get hurt, there was less for Wild to worry about than before. 

Not having to worry so much about getting food or any injuries they might acquire had lulled Wild into a false sense of security, something he wouldn’t realize until it was too late. 

For the past day and a half, the three of them had been traveling along a sharp drop-off that led to the deep waters Wild himself had been raised in. The cold waters that rose from the depths were rich in nutrients, which allowed a flourishing ecosystem to thrive along the cliff’s edge. It was more than enough to sustain at least a small pod, but the cold waters chased away many nearby tropical Mer pods that might have been looking to expand their territory. 

Wind was amusing himself by seeing how far he would dare to dart out over the open waters before getting too nervous and fleeing back to the safety of the cliff. Both Wild and Hyrule were keeping a lazy eye on him while chatting about their next move. Wild might be comfortable staying here for a while, but the cold water wouldn’t be good for Hyrule or Wind long term. They would have to move on eventually. 

But for now, it seemed safe enough.

Being able to reassure himself that there wasn’t any danger of attracting unwanted attention from other Mer put Wild’s mind at ease. Probably for the first time since he had found Wind. he was truly relaxed. 

Dropping his guard was a mistake, one he didn’t recognize until their peace was broken by Hyrule letting out a warning screech that had Wind darting toward the relative safety of the cliff. 

Wild was caught off guard by the warning call, twisting in the water to try and pinpoint what Hyrule was alerting to. It didn't take much time to locate the threat- rather, it didn’t take long for the threat to locate Wild. 

A sharp blow to his side sent him flying into the side of the cliff. Stunned for a moment, Wild opened his mouth- to shriek, or call for Hyrule, or something- but all the water had been knocked out of his lungs. A sharp edge of the rocks dug into the gills on his chest, making it harder to breathe. Slowly, he rebounded back away from the wall, unable to control the direction he was drifting. 

Gills fluttering, he desperately tried to reorient himself. Slowly, the world came back into focus, and now that he could breathe again, other things started to filter back into his awareness. Hyrule yelling, Wind wailing, and a deep, unfamiliar snarl. 

“We’re sorry! We didn't know this was someone’s territory! I swear we’ll leave right away, we’re sorry!” Hyrule’s attempt at placating the strange Mer was lost to Wild as he managed to twist around to take in the threat, wincing as his ribs screamed in protest.

Before him, Hyrule had placed himself in between Wild and the new Mer, and was staring them down. His arms were spread out to the sides as if to block the larger Mer from swimming around him to get to Wild and a faint green shimmer in the water told Wild that Hyrule was casting a shielding spell as well. Thankfully, Wind was nowhere to be seen, and had stopped wailing after seeing that Wild was still well enough to move on his own.

For a moment, Wild could only feel gratitude that Hyrule would throw himself in the path of danger for Wild, someone who he’d only known for a few months at best. That feeling was quickly shoved aside. He would have time to be thankful after they got away. For now, he had to focus. 

He swam up behind Hyrule, presenting a more united front. The other Mer seemed hesitant to attack right away when they saw Hyrule’s magic, which gave Wild enough time to observe them. 

They were clearly a deep sea Mer like Wild, with a black tail with jagged stripes of dark purple covering their fins. The most important thing about them though, was how large they were. They were a fully grown adult, likely over seventy based on their size alone. 

And they did not look friendly.

Oh, that’s not good, Wild thought. He might have even said it out loud, but it was lost as the Mer seemed to grow tired of hesitating. In a swift movement, they twisted their body, coiling up tightly and then striking out with their tail against the barrier Hyrule had erected. Hyrule’s magic was no match for the harsh strike, and the green glimmer in the water shattered upon impact. 

That must have been what they did to me, Wild realized absently as he grabbed Hyrule and dove straight down, out of the way of the strike. He propelled them down- five feet, then ten, then twenty. 

When he finally let go of Hyrule, they were a good twenty-five feet below the other Mer, who had twisted to watch them move further away, but didn’t pursue them. Their eyes glinted harshly in the low light, and Wild shivered as he realized that the only reason the Mer wasn't following was because they were heading deeper into the Mer’s territory. There was no reason to follow because they were running away. They were just heading into more familiar waters to the other Mer.

Wild gave Hyrule a shove to get the octopus to stop clinging to him. Hyrule withdrew quickly but with clear reluctance. Quietly, Wild hissed, “Stay here. If things go bad, take Wind and get as far away as you can.” Hyrule looked like he wanted to protest, but he gave Wild a firm nod and a sharp click of agreement.

With Hyrule’s confirmation that even if things went south, Wind would still have a chance, Wild darted back up through the water toward the larger Mer. 

Attacking from below was hardly ever effective unless the one you were attacking didn’t know you were coming, and the other Mer definitely knew Wild was coming, but there wasn’t much to do about that. He had to distract them for long enough for Hyrule to slip around the side and find where Wind had hidden himself. Wild was under no impression that this would go well for him. The other Mer was half again as long as he was, and clearly much older. Wild would need a miracle to fight them off. 

As he swam upwards, he stretched out his fins as much as he could. The drag of the extra width slowed him down a little, but he knew it was worth it for the effect.

Wild knew from experience that his larger-than-average fins gave even the largest Mer pause when they saw his threat display. This time was no different, the other Mer’s eyes widening for a second. They righted themselves quickly, preparing for the initial clash, but that split-second delay was just what Wild needed. It threw them off balance, making it easier to predict their next move. 

They curled up again, clearly trying to use the same smacking move they had used to break Hyrule’s shield, but Wild was prepared, ducking around their tail. He reached out a hand toward the other Mer’s chest, claws bared, aiming for their gills. Injuries to the gills were a quick way to incapacitate someone. It was usually considered a dirty move to go for the gills, but Wild couldn’t afford to fight fair.

Border skirmishes were quick and violent affairs, and usually left one party grievously injured, if not dead. Wild knew he couldn’t hold back. He had to use every trick in the book to get the upper hand. 

His slash was knocked off course by the Mer swinging an arm out, catching Wild in the shoulder and swatting him away easily. The strength of the blow made pain bloom in his shoulder, and he hissed loudly, drawing his arm close, cradling it to his body.

The pain distracted him, and his hiss quickly turned into a shriek of agony as new pain bloomed along his fins. 

Blood flooded the water as he quickly retracted his fins toward his body, twisting around to face his opponent again, who had moved off a few feet. The Mer grinned at him with a mouth full of sharp teeth, looking not at all sorry. The claws on both hands glistened with blood- Wild’s blood. 

Wild’s dorsal fin and one of his pelvic fins burned. Every movement through the water caused the pain to flare up further. 

This time the other Mer moved first, no doubt thinking they had just guaranteed their victory. Wild wasn’t ready. He felt like he could barely move with the burn in his fins, but he didn’t have a choice. 

He waited until the last second, then flung himself out of the way of the blow, using his momentum to drive his claws into the Mer’s hip- then rake them halfway down their tail before his momentum pulled his claws right out of their flesh. The Mer howled as blood flooded the water. 

It was coming faster than Wild expected, even with the long ragged cuts his claws had left. Had he hit an artery? 

The other Mer seemed to have the same thought, hands coming to cover the wounds, their face shifting from a victorious smile to a horrified wide-eyed look. Their hands did nothing to stop the outpouring of blood. 

Abruptly, they turned and dove, sinking faster and faster through the water. For a moment, Wild was worried they were going to go after Hyrule where he was clinging to the cliff, but they fell straight past him. 

In moments, the murk of the depths obscured them. There was startling silence, unsettling after the shrieks of battle. The only proof there had been a battle at all was the blood lingering in the water and the wounds littering Wild’s body. 

He hesitated for a moment, staring down into the darkness. He half expected the other Mer to come barreling back up out of the depths, but they didn’t. 

It felt like an eternity later when a soft touch on their arm shocked them out of their staring contest with the abyss. Slowly, Wild turned to stare at Hyrule. Hyrule looked worried. His arms were full of a nervously clicking Wind, who WIld noted looked blessedly unhurt. One of Hyrule’s tentacles was stretched out to caress Wild’s shoulder.

Still, Wild felt frozen. He couldn’t move, couldn't speak. He could feel himself slowly drifting downward as he continued to not move, but he couldn't convince his body to move. 

Slowly, he could feel more of Hyrule's tentacles wrap around him, as the abyss rose up to consume his vision and the sweet blackness of oblivion washed the pain of his injuries away.

[wheatnoodle]

this has been rolling around in my head for weeks and i need to at least express it so i can maybe get motivation to write it in more detail LMAO

night shift by lucy dacus but steve getting over nancy and being able to move on.

failed relationships and rebounds because he can’t even kiss someone else without gagging. he’s on first dates with heidi or sara or payton or becca or whoever it is this time that never make it to a second because he probably calls them by her name at some point.

scrolling through old texts and love letters and her social media even though he knows he’s just going to find things to hurt himself more than he already is. he wants to scream out loud what a bitch she is and how much she hurt him, but he resists and instead keeps scrolling. he wants to shout at her and leave before she can respond.

steve keeps finding himself in places where he ends up seeing nancy and jonathan together, happy. you’d think with everyone in the city instead of a small town now, they wouldn’t run into each other so much, but the universe seems to just have it out for him. it’s killing robin seeing him so heartbroken too.

it’s only about two months later when he gets a text from nancy asking to meet for coffee so they can talk, even though it’s 6pm so it won’t be light for long.

but, he agrees and she’s sitting at a table by the window in the corner and she looks…beautiful. like she always has. she looks up when he walks over, standing in what looks like a “going for a hug” pose. she stops though when he seems to hesitate and gives a polite smile, holding out a hand to shake instead.

nancy’s already ordered their drinks and someone places them on the table right when he sits. of course she remembered his order.

“so…” he says, a bit awkward, a lot quiet.

“…so…” she responds, except now she won’t look away from her lap. steve waits for her to say something, anything. maybe an explanation as to why she wanted to see him, why now, why here, what did she need to tell him?

so he waits.

and he waits.

…and he waits…

and she still wont say anything. so he puts down his mug, and he does.

“am i just supposed to sit here and watch you stare at your feet?”

she looks up then, eyes wide like she’s been caught. she looks nervous. it almost makes him feel bad for speaking up.

“steve-“

“what was the plan? to what…absolve your guilt? shake hands again?” she doesn’t respond. steve sighs and shakes his head.

“you cheated on me. that’s just how it is. i feel no need to forgive you, but i might as well, because i just want to move on.”

he doesn’t want to be here anymore. he can’t breathe. they only last a bit longer of light chat before he’s checking his watch (it’s only coming up on 7) and rising from his chair. she does too and asks if she can kiss him one last time. he just pays for his coffee, says a quick goodbye, and leaves just as the sun sets.

steve cant see her anymore. never again. never again. he’s so stuck in his head he doesn’t notice it’s coming on 11pm and he’s been walking the whole time until an owl in a tree has him looking up at the now dark sky and street lights. he’s back home around midnight and instantly has robin wrapped around his middle, rambling about how worried she had been. he went to talk to nancy, then just disappeared for hours. not answering texts, calls.

he tells her about everything. what she had said. how she seems to show up everywhere he goes. she holds him close, his head on her chest as they lay on their couch.

he quits his day job, robin does as well, and they end up working overnight shifts at a bar/restaurant. depending on the night, they’re either bartending or waiting the table in the bar area. they sleep during the day, go out at night.

steve stops bumping into her everywhere he goes. they’re on different schedules now. he’ll never be up to a read a sunday paper with her name on it since he’ll have just gotten into bed after a long shift.

a couple years down the line, there’s a band that starts playing at their bar, every friday and saturday nights.

they play a heavy version of california dreamin’ that suddenly throws steve back to kissing nancy in the backseat of his car to this song when they were in high school. steve needs to excuse himself for a smoke break, needs to calm his nausea and his nerves.

he’s out back for about five minutes when the back door opens. he flinches at the sound and backs against the wall, though the man quickly raises his hands up.

“sorry! didn’t mean to scare you. uh, i was lookin’ for a place to smoke. you mind if i join you?” the man says, an apologetic smile playing on his lips. steve’s brain short circuits at the sight of him. this man is GODLY, bro, okay, he’s HOT. AWOOGA. he’s all wild, dark hair and big brown eyes. a smile that has something wicked and sweet hidden in it. he’s tall too, only about two inches taller than steve, but still.

steve’s eyes catch on the light reflecting off his rings. he knows his cheeks are burning. “yeah, yeah that’s um…yeah, that’s fine.”

“cool,” the man says and lights his cigarette. steve goes back to leaning on the wall and sucking his own cigarette. “so, what’s got a pretty thing like you out here all on your lonesome?”

steve may or may not choke on his smoke a little. “needed some air. started…thinkin’ too much. what about you?”

“also, needed a breather. worked up a hell of a sweat up there.” and then it clicks and steve is smacking himself in the forehead.

“you’re in the band!”

“i am! you’re in the bar!”

“i am!”

and steve learns his name is eddie, and eddie starts coming in more than just fridays and saturdays. he won’t even drink, just get a water and stare at or talk to steve.

it takes almost 9 months before they start dating and another few after that before eddie practically moves in with steve and robin.

and he has never felt more loved. eddie who sings in the shower too loud and gives the crispiest bacon strips to robin. eddie who holds him during movies on the couch and covers steve’s eyes if he knows a scene in a horror movie might be too much, even though robin will narrate the whole thing. eddie who strokes his hair and rubs his back until he falls asleep and brings him everywhere he goes.

and songs that he once dedicated to nancy are now for eddie and all the new ones that come along are all for eddie too.

and he moves on, and he never sees her again.

[honey-and-sims]

After their trip out to London, Winifred and Lawrence agreed that it would be best for him to work less, even if it meant they would struggle more; his health being more important than grand, fabulous things, after all. Adding in just one extra day off, and more time to spend with his family, Lawrence's mood quickly began to rebound. The dark circles under his eyes lightened, alongside the veil of moodiness that his exhaustion had caused.

More time at home also meant more time to spend caring for the farm, and Lawrence decided to start teaching Ozzy a thing or two - like how to feed the chickens and collect the eggs, or how to bury a seedling.

Ozzy, however, wasn’t all that interested, and seemed to like petting the chicks more, or often got distracted when he remembered the existence of the pond nearby. Lawrence hadn't expected much else from the tot, but it was sweet to have a little helper and have quality time with his son.

The farm never truly recovered from the terrible blight the spring before and they’d hardly been able to replace most of the animals that had passed away that winter. With less money in their pocket, it seemed they would never be able to replace their cow, and therefore, had to go without profiting off the income of its milk.

Times were still tough, and The Baudelaire’s were still struggling, but Lawrence cherished his moments of rest too much to continue working the way he had previously.

On days where Ozzy was exceptionally well-behaved, with no fussing over being away from his Auntie, or where he successfully put the eggs in the basket without breaking them, Lawrence rewarded him with time splashing away in the pond. It was no use trying to keep the boy from the water, and instead, Lawrence had tried to use it as incentive.

But it was on a particular Spring afternoon that they were heading to the pond when Lawrence spotted two finely dressed men making their way along the dirt path nearest to their house. They stuck out like a sore thumb, certainly not farmers, and definitely not anyone he knew. For a moment, he tried to think of a reason they might have been out all this way.

Travelers, perhaps? No, they didn't have any sort of luggage or a carriage with them. New neighbors? No, not that either, he would have heard about that from one of the locals. So who were they?

All at once, Lawrence began to remember the bills that were piling high and the money they still owed on the mortgage. Were they bankers? Tax collectors? Policemen of some sort sent to cease their home? But surely, they weren't that far behind, were they?

As the two men approached closer, he took little Oscar into his arms, holding him near and began speaking hastily before either of them could get a single word out.

"I promise, I am going to submit my payment in a few days. We're a little tight here, that's all." He explained, holding up a hand in defense.Both men stared at him uncomfortably for a moment, trying to process what he'd just said. "Beg your pardon?" The one with glasses asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sir, we're not here to collect any sort of payment from you." The younger of two said, chuckling a little. Lawrence gazed back at them, trying to get a good look at their faces. The genlteman's posh accent undeniably matched his fine clothes, and if there was any doubt before, he knew for certain now that they were not from around here.

But that wasn't why his gaze continued to linger. He knew those eyes, not in their color but their dreamy shape, and prominent noses. And the closer he examined their features, the more it became clear that they looked well, like Winifred!

The gentleman in the dark coat introduced himself as Harold, and his counterpart, as Gerald....Harold and Gerald Bloomsburg. They were brothers of Alice, Winifred's late mother, and they had traveled all this way from Westminster to locate the Baudelaire family, whom they had heard their sister's daughter had married into.

"My apologies, Mr. Bloomsburg." Lawrence finally said, offering his hand to Harold. "I've never met any of my wife's family, and well, I hadn't realized...my mistake." Harold returned the offer of his hand and shook it in a respectable manner.

Lawrence might have felt ashamed of his error, perhaps embarrassed to have admitted to strangers the hard financial times they were currently facing, if he could feel anything other than bewildered. It wasn’t that long ago that Winifred revealed the truth about the family she hailed from but had never met. Now, here they were, face to face in their front yard.  

Lawrence had hardly noticed the other gentleman’s off-putting stance throughout the entirety of their introduction. That was, until he offered his hand to him next, and he stared reluctantly at it as if he were offering a dead fish. Lawrence watched as he looked him up and down in disgust, like he'd rather eat his own foot than to accept his hand.

"Yes, yes, well that's all fine and dandy," The eldest said, finally looking into Lawrence's eyes. "We're not here for family matters, as our sister was cast out of the family long ago, but rather on business." Unlike his brother, he spoke so matter-of-fact, no warmth in his tone whatsoever.

"On business?" Lawrence asked, wondering what possible business either of them could have with their family. As the gentlemen had stated, Winifred's mother had long since given up her Bloomsburg name, and if they weren't there to meet their niece or her family, just what were they doing here?

"You must tell us now if you mean to accept the money! Or have you already?" Gerald asked, though his accusatory tone wasn't all that subtle in its delivery.

Ozzy watched on, wishing to find a place to cower, and by some miracle, when he turned to do exactly that, his mother was emerging from behind the gate. She had heard some sort of commotion from inside the house and had come to see what was going on.

As she moved closer, her mouth fell open in disbelief when she saw the men talking to her husband. They looked too much like her mother for her to have been mistaken. But even as she stood there trying to listen to their discussion or be noticed, she could hardly believe it to be true.

next / previous / first

[carnivorousyandeere]

Hihi! I always love seeing your zodiac yans being written about!

How do you think they would react to a darling that has recently been heartbroken and refuses to let them in? Just kinda open for any of the yans to be written in- even Quinn!

- cow anon 🐄

Goin with the fire sign zodiac yans just bc, but I’ll write the other signs sometime if they’re requested too. Just thought these three would be interesting to see in this situation. Written under the assumption of Darling and the Yans having been friends for a while, with the yandere tendencies and obsessions only beginning to arise…

Thank you for sending this in, and sorry for the long wait ❤️‍🩹

CW: alcohol, lack of boundaries, murder, mentions of sex but no smut

Kosuke pretends not to give a damn that you’re avoiding them— telling themself they’re too cool for you anyway, they don’t need you— but it’s a lie. The situation honestly pisses them off, especially if they don’t know why you’re being so ‘weird’ all of a sudden (they’re not the stalking type of yandere usually, so they really may not know why). They do get really pushy and demanding with you, basically forcing you to spill your guts about what’s up. Once you tear up and admit you’ve had your heart broken, they’re at a loss for words. They feel embarrassed and guilty about how they acted, but they’re definitely too prideful to apologize directly. They think they oughta be happy that there’s one less source of competition for them in your life, but seeing you so sad ruins any enjoyment they might get from it. Orders you food and (tries) to clean up around your place to help you out. Not the best at comforting, per se, but they’ll let you cry on their shoulder and shit talk whoever hurt you. Definitely thinks about beating the shit out of the other person, and depending on the circumstances, might actually hunt them down to teach them a lesson.

Jett doesn’t expect you to get over it quickly, but they do get impatient if you keep blowing them off to stew in your own misery. They firmly believe that you’re never gonna recover if you keep uselessly pining and mourning in your bedroom. You’re way too good to be heartbroken over some loser, anyway. If anything, you should celebrate being free from that nobody! They’ll take any chance they can get to drag you out with them— brunch, shopping, or especially partying. Maybe you’ll spill all the details if they get a few drinks in you, or if you’re just tired enough. Jett is plainly happy to have that worthless slime competing for your attention out of the picture— they should be the one in the center stage of your heart, anyway! They’re likely to flirt a little extra heavily and try to worm their way into being your rebound. Pretends like they were just kidding if you get annoyed by the flirting instead, but, like I said, they’re not patient— it burns them deeply inside.

Blake is the most hurt by you having feelings for another person, even if it was in the past, and you’ve since had your heart broken by that other person. If Jett and Kosuke get irritated and angry with you for pushing them away, respectively, Blake gets sad. They’re not used to outright rejection, especially from people they’re close to. They’re fun, they’re gorgeous, they’re kind (to anyone who isn’t a romantic rival, or who’s been a hater first)… and they just want to help you. They want to help take your mind off of things. Blake honestly, and with no self-awareness, manages to take a page from the water signs’ book and guilt trip you into feeling bad for not accepting their help and company to get you through your breakup. Most likely out of the three to kill whoever broke your heart and bury them out in the middle of nowhere, ‘just to be on the safe side,’ and also so they can truly feel like they “fixed” the source of your heartache by removing it from this world entirely. They don’t tell you, they just expect you to feel as if a weight’s been lifted from your shoulders in some mysterious, mystical way. They want to feel like they’ve fixed the problem as they hold you in their lap and look up at the stars, off-road on a spontaneous trip to bring you someplace fun. This is where their own impatience starts, if you ‘keep moping around’ when you ‘should be having a good time with them,’ similar to Jett.

As insensitive as it probably is (depending on the Darling’s personality, I suppose), Jett and Blake are also the types to suggest sleeping with them as a way to take your mind off things. Kosuke definitely thinks about it, but they’re trying to be more delicate with emotional matters with their Darling;;;

[all-pacas]

What would jealousy look like in houseswapped au? (feel free to be as extensive as possible)

For who? Knowing my anons, Cam/Chase, right?

I think Cameron does the Cuddy thing in this AU: She's into dating apps, she periodically tries and goes out with someone and then gets frustrated and gives up. The Chase breakup fucked with her; he basically dumped her for caring too much (from her point of view), so she has this low-lying edge of wanting to prove him wrong, prove herself wrong, she doesn't just have a thing for injured and broken people (even though her two most serious relationships), but when she doesn't feel much for the people she grabs coffee with she feels worse… This is probably because she keeps going out with people she thinks she should like (a thousand TB Guys) instead of people she might actually connect with.

Chase is, and always has been, and always will be wildly insecure, but the breakup was again way worse than in canon because — to an extent, I think both Cameron and Chase can look back on their marriage and go "if Dibala hadn't happened, then…"; in this universe they don't have that out. He pushed her away because he was convinced she pitied him and was only with him because he was a Project, and because his Total Number Of Healthy Relationships counter is even lower in this world than canon; again, Chase never had a mentor in House, or even several years of friendship with Cameron before dating her. And, well, you know how House's motto is Everybody Lies? Chase's is something like… everybody manipulates. Everybody pretends. He makes his living doing malpractice and pretending to care about his patients and acting as their confessor to find out what they're hiding from him. He thinks he lost Cameron to this: that the truth of their relationship was that she only cared because he was hurt and needed her.

So whenever Cameron goes on a date, or meets someone new, he drives himself a little bit insane over it. In a very quiet he thinks he's being subtle but he is not at all, because if she's happy that proves in some way he was right and she never cared about him, but of course it isn't his fault they broke up. So he gets cranky and passive-aggressive, and then has a bad pain day and she scolds him and actually does make him use a wheelchair for an afternoon and he feels better. It's very fucking obvious from the outside, but what can you do. (I don't think Fellow!House likes Cameron. At all. Not really for protective you hurt my boss reasons, just… you keep distracting Chase and it's annoying.)

Chase sleeps around. He's not peak Dumb Whore levels; he just… when he feels the urge, he picks someone up and that's that. It so blatantly doesn't mean anything — it doesn't mean anything — that I doubt Cameron minds or cares. (If he manages to pull off a wedding threesome in this AU she's probably like 👀 and wants details lmaoooo she's soooo pervy never forget.) She's not really the jealous type.

…But, if Chase gets himself a rebound nun situation? Actually connects with someone? Straight to Stacy It-was-me-you-couldn't-love levels. On some level, in the messy unstated situation they're stuck in, Cameron knows she matters most to Chase; neither have totally moved on, she's still important to him. But if he starts to move on? Find someone new? When he didn't trust her or her feelings, and in fact rejected her for them? That sucks. That's mean. I think she gets angry, snapping at him, complete rejection mode. If he's really happy and dating someone, she's not going to try and ruin the relationship or anything, she'll step aside and be gracious, but… she'd be mad. Not even jealous, just angry. He won't do this for her, but for this random girl? After everything? Screw you.

[trulybetty]

Strings | Part III

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader Word Count: 2,384 Warnings: Mature content, talk of sex and making arrangements based on sex alone, talk of a wound reader received, but nothing graphic. Get your tetanus shots, everyone! Summary: How your arrangement with Joel came into existence... AO3: Link

x. strings masterlist

Part III

Spring

The room still smelled of you, of him, of the moment you had just shared. The sheets were rumpled and the air hung heavy. This was uncharted territory for both of you, and there was a discomfort that hung around like a thick fog.

He was too old for this. 

Those were his exact words to you as you crouched down to retrieve your shirt that he had thrown across the room. When he’d managed to detangle your arms from its sleeves, and then that was after fumbling to pull it over your head in the first place.

You had paused, your arms through the sleeves of the t-shirt, about to pull it over your head - the two of you locked eyes, Joel’s tired and yours coloured with confusion.

“Too old?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face, “I’m old darlin’, too old for this shit,” he gestured to the bed you’d just had sex on, his bed. “I’m probably too old for you?” he found himself saying, the words escaping him before he had a chance to rein them in. He didn't turn to look up at you this time, afraid of the confirmation he might see in your eyes.

But instead of the uncomfortable silence he'd anticipated, your laughter filled the room instead. It was an amused, sincere sound which rebounded off of the quiet walls of the room and filled the air, catching him off guard.

Joel frowned, not understanding what was so funny.

You paused for a moment, your hand now stilling on the zipper of the jeans you’d just slipped on, a playful smile on your lips. “Too old for me? Come on, Joel, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were trying to feed me a pick-up line.”

He blinked at you, confused. “I ain't…” he trailed off, disbelievingly.

You laughed again, genuine and gentle and free of any spite, your eyes bright. “Oh, I believe you. But I think you're forgetting, I'm not too far off from you in age Miller.”

He raised an eyebrow, a silent question lingering in his gaze.

Urging him to move over, you dropped to sit to his left and knocked his elbow with yours, your smile turning into a smirk. “A true southern gentleman would never ask a woman her age. Shouldn't you know that?”

Joel's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he turned away, his gaze fixed on the floor as he grumbled under his breath. You watched him, a sense of affection welling up inside you. Despite his gruff exterior, there was something inherently gentle about Joel. He had a vulnerability that he hid well, but you saw glimpses of it now and then when he thought he was doing a good job of keeping it hidden.

“Joel,” you said, your voice soft, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You smiled then, a genuine, heartfelt smile, and you leaned in to kiss him, a soft, lingering kiss far more gentle and meaningful and in stark contrast to the passion-filled, frenzied sex you'd just had.

Joel ran his hand up your left thigh, his fingers pausing over the generous rip in your jeans that framed the white gauze underneath slowly turning shades of pink hues.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, his fluster quickly turning to concern. “Did I make it worse?”

You paused and watched him rest his hand just above the rip, his thumb absently rubbing the space to the side to avoid aggravating the wound, “It stings, but I think it’ll be okay.”

His brow furrowed, “You’ll have to change that.” he stated as he continued to study the bandage.

The wound on your leg had been the reason you’d ended up in Joel Millers' home in the first place. You’d been knocked off of your feet by an errant sheep, displeased that you hadn’t been quick enough with the feed in your hands. It’d rammed into your back legs hard enough that you’d stumbled, and in the process of trying to steady yourself, you’d gotten your leg caught on the barbed wire of the replacement fence Joel had been there working on.

You could see Joel's eyes darken at the memory, a frown pulling at his lips. He'd been not mere steps away, knelt fixing a loose fence post. The one that you had brought up to the council that needed looking at amongst other things, so Maria had nominated Joel to go out and take a look. The two of you had been nonchalantly talking about anything and nothing at the same time. Joel had watched it all play out in slow motion, not able to warn you quickly enough as you were distracted by your conversation to avoid side-stepping the animal. He’d also struggled to move as quickly as he’d have liked, his knees protesting at the sudden movement. 

He did however remember how his heart had leapt into his throat, the panicked shout that had torn from his lips. The way he'd cursed his gloved fingers not being delicate enough to pry the wire from your skin without cutting into it further, the way you’d sucked in your breath to avoid crying. Followed by the forced laugh as you made a joke about your best jeans being ruined, and what would you wear on your Saturday nights out now. He’d pulled you to his side, careful of your injured leg, and the way your eyes had met his, wide with pain and surprise but also filled with trust which had shaken him.

“I shouldn't have brought you back here,” he said, his voice rough. “Should’a took you to the clinic.”

You shook your head, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on his arm. “I'm glad you brought me here,” you told him, and the look in your eyes was earnest, filled with a warmth that settled somewhere deep within him. “I didn't want to go to the clinic.”

You watched as he looked at you, his eyes searching your face, and what he saw there made something in him relax, something he hadn't even realized had been wound tight. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice soft, but there was a teasing light in his eyes now.

“I'm sure,” you said, and there was something in your voice, something that told him you meant more than just the clinic, that you were talking about more than just your injured leg.

The two of you sat in silence, his hand still firm on your thigh.

“Is this a one-time thing?” you asked finally, your voice barely more than a whisper, and the room seemed to hold its breath.

“I don't know, darlin',” he said, his voice thick, uncertainty warring within him. He felt torn, knowing that he couldn't deny the connection he'd felt with you, knowing that the sex had been more than just good, it had been something he hadn't felt in a long time. But he also knew himself, knew his limitations. He was too old for romance, his body worn and tired, his soul weighed down by the ghosts of his past. He wasn't capable of a relationship, not anymore.

Not that you really knew what you wanted. How long had it been since you had been in any relationship of any kind? Five years in Jackson, and while you'd dated here and there, it was mostly for the sake of not being alone, rather than any real connection. But Joel was different. From the first moment your eyes met, there was an undeniable spark, a connection that went deeper than mere attraction.

You glanced over at him, studying his face, searching for some sign, some indication that he was as invested in this as you were. But all you saw was a guarded expression. You'd heard all about the brother of Tommy, a man who was struggling with his own demons.

“You know I really am too old for this, right?” he said finally, his voice gruff. “Knees are shot, takes me twice as long to recover.” He tried to make it a joke, but his eyes were serious as they met yours. "But I ain't gonna lie, the sex…” He paused, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “Well, that was something else darlin’, and I can't deny I wouldn’t mind more of that.” he finished almost bashfully. 

“We're both adults, Joel,” you said softly. “We both obviously enjoy sex, and we both seem to agree that we enjoyed sex with one another,” you paused, “I guess I’m saying, we could make this work, set the rules.”

“Like what?”

You shrugged, “ No strings attached?”

“Just sex?”

“Just sex.”

Joel paused for a moment, you could see from the furrow of his brow that he was mulling the suggestion over. You held your breath awaiting a response - you’d thrown out of the idea of no strings attached without even thinking about it. The truth was you didn’t want to let Joel go and you’d take whatever he’d give you, even if it was just sex.

“No spending the night,” he said finally, his voice firm. It was a rule, a boundary, something to keep this from becoming more than he could handle. “That's the other condition.”

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Deal,” you said, “So, do we shake on this?” you laughed as you reached out to shake his hand, sealing the arrangement.

But as your hands met, you looked up at him, his eyes dark and an expression you couldn’t read. Before you could question what was running through his head, he pulled you in for another kiss. His lips crushed against yours with a fervent hunger that sent shivers down your spine. The heat of his mouth seared against yours, a mix of desperation and desire fueling his movements. It was as if he was trying to imprint his need onto you, his hands gripping you almost possessively, his fingers digging into your skin with a primal urgency. Each collision of your lips was a mixture of tension and release, a way for both of you to escape the uncertainty that lingered between you.

His lips were hungry, repeating the ferocity of the kiss that had sparked all of this downstairs in his kitchen. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your fingers trembled. 

You'd been sat on one of the wooden chairs at the kitchen table, him on one knee as he looked up at you from the bandage he’d just carefully wrapped around the wound on your thigh. His fingers had lingered a little longer at your knee and you'd looked down, your eyes meeting his and before you could even comprehend what was happening the two of you were embraced in a impassioned kiss.

A groan escaped your lips, but not the type of groan Joel had wanted to elicit from you. His hand on your thigh in the moment had gripped on too tight and pulled the skin around your wound tight causing a sharp searing pain to radiate up your leg.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked as he pulled away from you at the hiss of pain you’d made at the release of his hand.

You couldn’t hide the wince on your face, “Maybe I will stop by the clinic on the way out. Maybe they’ll spare me a tetanus shot.”

“They have that?” he asked, surprised.

You nodded, “Raid on a FEDRA shelter a couple of months back, there was quite the medical supply.” 

Joel studied you intently, almost as if he was trying to memorize every detail of your face. He reached out and ran his thumb across your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill of anticipation and nerves coursing through you. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, a tremor running through you at his touch.

“I want to see you again, darlin’,” he murmured.

Your lips curved into a smile, your head still spinning with the possibility of something more. “I would like that, too.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

You shook your head, “No.”

“I'm on patrol tomorrow evening, but I don't head out until eight.”

“I can come before then,” you suggested, already feeling the excitement build within you. “What time works for you?”

Joel leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “How about six?” His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Six it is,” you agreed, trying to steady your breathing.

Joel pulled away, his expression serious again. “Just remember, darlin', it's only sex.”

You nodded, understanding the rules of engagement, even though a small pang of something more resonated within your chest. But you silenced it, focusing instead on the opportunity in front of you.

Joel's eyes studied you for a long moment as if searching for something. But whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find, because he smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made your heart race.

“Good,” he said, his voice soft. “I'm looking forward to it.”

You returned his smile, a mixture of excitement and trepidation swirling within you. “Me too.”

With that, you gathered your belongings, each movement filled with the awareness of Joel's watchful gaze.

As you made your way to the clinic, the memory of Joel's touch, the sound of his voice, the way he looked at you, all of it lingered in your mind, haunting and exhilarating at the same time.

You were playing with fire, and you knew it. But you couldn't help yourself. Joel had awakened something within you, something you couldn't ignore, no matter how hard you tried.

The sting of the tetanus shot brought you back to reality, a sharp reminder of the real world around you. But even as the nurse bandaged your wound again, your thoughts soon were elsewhere. You knew you were taking a risk. You knew that this could end in heartbreak. But you also knew that you couldn't walk away.

You were in dangerous territory, and there was no turning back.

[she-karev]

The Talk About Kids (Jolex Imagine)

Previous Chapter Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Alex and Jo

AN: I decided to shift my focus to a power couple that deserved so much more. I decided to show Alex and Jo throughout pivotal moments in Season 16 and 17 that I believe would fit them.

Summary: Alex and Jo go over adoption agencies online in the loft until people come over to celebrate their nuptials, cutting the moment short. The gang figures out their plans and react with joy.

Words: 1642

November 1st, 2019

“How about this one?”

Jo asks Alex who is busy making coffee while Jo is at the table going over adoption agencies in Seattle. The couple are still clad in their pajamas, having just woken up with Jo already on the track to finding a baby to adopt. Alex is giddy at her eagerness and feels his dream coming closer by the minute.

Alex walks over and looks over Jo’s shoulder at the screen showing an adoption agency website, “What makes this one special?”

“They take in safe haven babies instead of letting them go through the system. I mean its fate, right? For us to find a baby like me who was left by their mother outside a fire station?”

“Yeah, that would be great if we found a baby who was in your situation.” Alex closes his eyes at how that sounded, “Not great for the baby, I meant great for us to give that abandoned baby a chance we never got.”

“I know honey.” Jo says with a grin, “We still have to find a house and make it picture perfect for inspection so we’re just going over our options before we apply but this definitely looks promising.”

“If it has your approval then it’s got mine.” Alex pulls out his phone, “I should look into real estate agents while you do agencies, divide and conquer.”

A knock on the door stops him from typing up in the search engine. He groans but puts his phone away and walks to the door opening it to find a group of five people on the other side. Meredith Grey, Jackson Avery, Link, Andrew DeLuca and Amber Karev are on the other side holding items in their hands. Jo sees the gang and closes her laptop, not quite feeling ready to tell them about their plans to have a baby.

“Hey, what are all of your guys doing here?” Alex asks causing Meredith to raise an eyebrow.

“You told me you got married last night; did you really not expect a celebration? Or gifts?”

“Yeah dummy.” Amber adds passing her brother with a waffle maker box in hand, “It was about time you two knuckleheads sign the damn papers like you should have from the beginning.”

Andrew shakes his head amused at his live-in girlfriend, “That is Amber speak for congratulations from both of us. Happy marriage.”

The whole gang enter the loft and greet Jo who smiles at them, “Hey guys you really didn’t have to do this, the last wedding was good enough for us.”

“Well Meredith insisted we come over and congratulate you in person.” Link explains putting a box of whiskey glasses set on the table, “I think she’s antsy for a party.”

“I just got out of prison.” Meredith reminds them all, “And my medical license might be taken away from me and everyone at Grey Sloan hates me so I need have happy moments otherwise I will start throwing furniture. Coffee?” She asks sharply.

Alex quickly heads to the coffee pot, “Yep.”

Jackson hands Jo a bottle of fine whiskey, “Congratulations you guys.”

Jo grins, “Thank you, you didn’t bring Vic?” Jo sees Amber pursing her lips at the mention of Vic clearly still detesting the firefighter Jackson is casually seeing.

Jackson catches Amber’s disgusted look, “I was planning on coming tonight to bring you the gift, but Amber insisted I ditch my breakfast date with Vic. More like demanded even though I’m her boss.”

“Oh boo hoo.” Amber says dismissively, “Your good friends got legally married last night, celebrating that takes precedence over being sad rebounds for firefighters.”

Jackson groans at that and asks Jo half seriously, “Please remind me why I keep her around?”

Jo chuckles and pulls Amber in for a side hug, “Oh come on, you and I know underneath that crusty exterior there’s a heart. Besides it’s not the first time she disliked someone who’s seeing her favorite men in the world.”

Alex chuckles nostalgically, “Yeah that is very true. One time I caught her putting a cockroach down my dates back and she ran away screaming. I swear I wanted to give her an atomic wedgie so bad.”

Amber grins at that, “Well the high school tramp was calling mom a nutty loon and she talked down to me and told me to make myself useful and get her a water. And most of your other girlfriends treated me just like that, a mini waitress working minimum wage. Same goes for Aaron, you two like to pick girls whose IQ is as high as their bra sizes.”

Meredith chuckles, “So I guess this attitude towards Vic is because you see her as not being good enough for Jackson? Nobody can be good enough for your brothers?”

Amber scoffs and acts tough, “Your crazy if you think I’m that invested in these idiot’s love lives. I just hate awful people and they have a preference for them.” Jo glares at that, “Except for you, you are the exception.”

Jo chuckles and pulls her sister-in-law in for a side hug, “Well I’m glad I got your approval.”

“Please do me a favor though.” Jackson asks Amber with a pleading face, “Don’t scare Vic away with a cockroach or a snake or whatever disgusting creature feels drawn to your evil nature.”

“Are you gonna make me some coffee?” Amber asks causing Jackson to roll his eyes but head towards the coffee maker to Amber’s satisfaction, “I’ll do my best then.”

Jo chuckles and pulls away, “We feel bad if we knew you were coming, we would have made a spread or something.”

“Since when do you cook?” Meredith teases before proposing, “We’ll just go to a pancake house and celebrate with lots of carbs and syrup.”

“And bacon.” Link adds with a smile, “You can’t have a celebration breakfast without bacon.”

Meredith laughs, “And in that spirit I’ll find us a breakfast place nearby that serves all of that.” Meredith opens the laptop to Alex and Jo’s distress.

“Wait Mer don’t-” Alex’s attempts are stopped as the screen pops up showing the adoption agency website that Jo left it on.

Meredith looks at the website in silent shock with the rest of the gang looking at her confused. Alex and Jo look both embarrassed and relieved at the cat being out of the bag. Jo sighs and stands next to Alex wrapping her arm around his back as they face Jackson, Link, DeLuca and Amber who look confused by Meredith’s frozen face. Jo and Alex look at each other silently communicating that it’s okay to tell people.

“We have an announcement to make.” Alex starts.

Jo smiles, “We’re gonna have a baby.”

The gang have different reactions of joy with Link asking ‘what?’ with a big smile, Jackson’s eyes shot up in shock, Amber’s mouth gapes open before laughing in joy with her boyfriend Andrew next to her smiling saying congratulations.

“Eventually.” Jo elaborates with a smile over their joy, “We’re looking at adoption agencies which is what Meredith is seeing at the laptop that caught her off guard.”

Meredith closes the laptop and goes to the happy couple with a smile, “Congratulations! Your gonna be parents!” She hugs Alex first who smiles at the affection as well as Jo who gets a hug as well before Meredith pulls back, “And if you ever need help with the adoption process, I am the person to turn to.”

“Thank you we really appreciate it.” Jo tells her good friend.

“And seriously.” Meredith starts with a grin, “Zola is the best thing that happened to me and Derek, I knew from the moment I saw her that she was ours and you’ll know it with your baby.”

Alex grins, “I hope so and you know if it wasn’t for me that little girl wouldn’t have even come here and you wouldn’t have met her so really, I’m the reason you started your family.”

“Humble as always.” Meredith quips, “But thank you for that.”

Amber shrieks at the news and immediately tackles her brother in a bear hug that takes him by surprise, “Wow kid I think this is the most affection you’ve ever shown me.” Alex tells his sister in a strained voice over how tight she’s squeezing him.

Jo giggles and smiles at the sight, “We take it your happy.”

Amber pulls back still smiling, “Of course I’m happy I’m finally gonna be an Auntie, Auntie Amber. What took you two so long? I have been dying to have a niece or nephew to spoil.”

Alex chuckles, “We’ll things have happened, and life got in the way of us taking the next big step.”

Jo holds his hand, “But then we realized that life is always gonna be unpredictable so we might as well have a little more love and joy to get through it.”

“Amen.” Link states, “And if you guys have a baby before me, I can just watch you two and figure how to not screw up my kid.”

Jackson chuckles, “What he means is congratulations and we hope you guys start a family soon. And if you ever need a reference, I am always up for it.”

“Or you can pick me and DeLuca and Link instead.” Meredith and Jackson look at Amber with a raised eyebrow over excluding them, “Sorry guys but out of all of us you two have a record as dirty as a swamp rat in a sewer.”

Jackson clicks his tongue, “Ouch.”

“She is right.” Meredith says, “She’s mean but she’s right. Okay shall we get a breakfast spread to celebrate you guys getting legally married and starting to have a baby?” The gang all agree and head out for a breakfast party to celebrate this new chapter in Alex and Jo’s life.

[rafent]

"Now isn't this something," Griss says in lieu of a greeting, catching the dragon as they disperse from the clearing and its strange performance before he can slip away again. "Looks like we're on different teams."

Plucking proudly at the green cloth collared around his neck, he nods at the blue one that Lord Rafal wound up with. Where others - knights or otherwise - might be disappointed to find themselves separated from their lord by some flimsy, arbitrary allegiance, Griss looks all too excited about this turn of events. His lord might very well have guessed why already.

"You know what that means, right?" He can barely contain himself. "So you better not hold back when it comes time to lay on the punishment, got it?" Sliding a little closer, grinning fangs just a lunge away from the other's neck, he giggles into his ear. But instead of some profound secret, he just pulls back again and keeps walking with his fingers laced behind his head.

"Oh yeah, do you know how to sleep with your eyes open?" A pause and a glance back.

"I do." Suddenly, he bursts into laughter. "Alright, see ya, Lord Rafal!"

Before long, he found what he was looking for; namely, in the knight who found him first. That an unknowing Rafal was 'intercepted' by Griss was mere illusion. A mendacious idea with the truthful underbelly turned from sight. Reality instead to produce that he'd waited, caught the view of insidious blacks and greys, his memorable green, and lingered - ever so slightly - within range until this very conversation could occur. Exactly as looked, desired, and waited for.

. . .Even if their differing allegiances did not go comparatively as expected. "How heartbreaking such news. I am certain to cry myself to sleep for every second we are apart." Silent surprise surrendered to drawled mockery, and then without perception: curious disappointment. An uncertain contrast to that openly worn glee.

Why ever should two different colored scarves prove cause for his consternation? He who was untouchable against all else; he who weathered far worse? The theory was beyond outlandish, of course, the cause beyond childish. But at least it was easy to rebound. To disdain that strange pollution of sense and take what was cleaner. Offered plainly. Even an overture as misshapen as snapping fangs within reach of throat, even a menacing voice that could never let spill reassurances over blood and violent delights. Fine alternatives, both.

"Heh. A senseless request. I do not recall holding back before, and I do not intend to start now. And let us be clear—if that is a threat, Griss, you know to do better." Not even a flinch as the threat of teeth should pull away, peeks of glittering eyes retracted with them. Only a tickle where warm breath had been; only the partial turn of head as Rafal watched him go, ringing with laughter. And that was the end.

Footsteps carried him forward in the consummation of two diverging paths. They would meet again. Soft-hearted affirmations weren't needed for that.

[acourtofthought]

"What if the Cauldron was wrong?"

“Wouldn’t the mating bond have snapped into place for them if it exists?” Rhys’s eyes shuttered. “I think that is a question Azriel has been asking himself every day since he met Mor.”

Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it

“And you were never with anyone after it?” Not the cold, beautiful shadowsinger who tried so hard not to watch her with longing on his face?

Azriel’s head lifted from where he was sprawled in his own blood, eyes full of rage and pain as he snarled at the king, “Don’t you touch her.” Mor looked at Azriel—and there was real fear there. Fear—and something else.

"Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege for his fingers to touch her skin, tainting her with his presence"

“The issue, actually, wouldn’t be me. It’d be him. I could peel off my clothes right in front of him and he wouldn’t move an inch. He might have defied and proved those Illyrian pricks wrong at every turn, but it won’t matter if Rhys makes him Prince of Velaris—he’ll see himself as a bastard-born nobody, and not good enough for anyone. Especially me.”

"He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it"

She wore a gown of pure white, little more than a slip of silk that showed off her generous curves. Indeed, a glance over her shoulder revealed Azriel staring blatantly at the back view of it, Cassian and the stranger already too deep in conversation to notice what had drawn the spymaster’s attention. For a moment, the ravenous hunger on Azriel’s face made my stomach tighten.

I had to look away to keep from laughing. Az, to his credit, gave Mor a smile of thanks, a blush creeping over his cheeks, his hazel eyes fixed on her. I looked away at the heat, the yearning that filled them.

"I'll defeat him with little effort"

Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to invoke it when he's found Mor all those years ago. He'd been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris and kill them both.

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

She knew Azriel would say no, would want her safe. As he had always done. Az would have been pissed, and withdrawn even further into himself.

Correct me if I'm wrong but according to some, Azriel is completely over Mor after 500 years simply because a new female he's only known for two(ish) years has entered his life. Despite multiple books of buildup telling us of his love for Mor, despite Elain telling us as recently as ACOFAS that she didn't want a male and instead wanted a human man, despite centuries of love and longing and lust, he's easily moved on.

Moved on with a female that we've not seen he's had any feelings for that are uniquely special to Elain when you consider he's had the exact same thoughts about Mor.

So please do explain why Elain can't also be replaced just as quickly if someone else happens to come along? Someone who possibly turns out to be his Mate? Someone he already shows admiration for?

Love doesn't happen instantly but all he needs is another few months with Gwyn and Elain will simply become the new Mor.

Or.... What's more likely is Elain was never someone he truly loved at all and he instead transferred his unrequited feelings for Mor onto the only available female within his circle while she herself is looking to hook up with Az as a distraction to her own problems and the things she's been trying to avoid.

Rebounds are a thing and it does no good to pretend it's not a very real possibility. To me, Az isn't really over Mor and his focus needs to be on coming to terms with his past with her before getting involved with anyone else.