#just repeating over and over for days on end

[cherienymphe]

A Family Affair

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON, STEPCEST, age gap, plus size!reader, infidelity

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: It's no secret that Rafe doesn't care for his stepmother, so when he suddenly starts being nice to you following his father's neglect, you're relieved to think that you can finally start acting like a family.

⭑

You sighed to yourself as the sound of Ward’s light snores faded behind you, your feet carrying you down the hall as you sought something to drink. It was late, and while you should’ve been asleep alongside the rest of the house, you were wide awake. Your thoughts strayed to your husband, and a familiar pang made your chest ache. Per usual, you attempted to ignore it, but the late hour and solitude prevented you from doing so.

Ward was so busy with business as of late, and while you knew what you were getting into when you married him, you hadn’t anticipated just how often you’d find yourself alone and without him. It wasn’t so bad the first few times you found yourself scarcely seeing him for weeks on end—business eventually letting up and allowing him to spend more time with you before the cycle repeated—but it started to get old after a while. The constant back and forth and ebb and flow of your relationship…

“Don’t you like the nice house? The fancy cars? The semi-annual trips?” was what he’d asked you one day when you brought it up.

At your reluctant nod, he’d merely given you a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek.

“You know it’s never temporary,” he’d murmured against your skin, trailing his fingers down your arm. “Work just pulls me away, sometimes.”

That was almost a year ago, and you were even less used to it, now.

The lifestyle made up for it in some ways, the sex in others, but you never thought you’d find yourself thinking that it was your stepchildren who really brought you so much joy on those days where you wondered if this relationship was fulfilling enough. You smiled into your glass at the thought of them, shaking your head as you remembered something Sarah had said the day before. They were far from perfect—one more so than the other two—but it was in a way that was almost endearing. Most of the time…

You swallowed down a sigh along with your drink as you thought of a familiar dirty blond.

Rafe Cameron was Ward’s only son, and such a title brought along lots of expectations that Rafe ever failed to live up to. You still couldn’t quite tell if Ward expected so much of him or if Rafe just refused to apply himself. You settled on something in between, a little bit of both of that from both of them. It made you sad, sometimes, and over the past few years you’d done your best to help and be there for Rafe, but all of your effort seemed to be in vain.

The twenty year old just didn’t like you…and you wondered if he ever would.

He was never shy about his feelings regarding you and on some level you appreciated the transparency, but on another it did sting a bit. There were moments where you wondered if he simply thought you weren’t good enough for Ward. You quickly learned how shallow Rafe could be, and it wasn’t like you were the thinnest woman out there—far from it, in fact. It definitely wouldn’t surprise you to learn he felt his father could do better in that department, but for some reason, you just didn’t buy that excuse.

The looks he gave you and the cold manner in which he talked to you sometimes made you feel like it was something far more personal than something as mundane as weight. It was moments like these where you realized just how much Rafe’s behavior got to you, and not because it hurt particularly bad, but mostly because you didn’t understand it.

You found yourself entertaining the same kind of thoughts a few nights later when face to face with Rafe, declining his ‘suggestion’ of throwing a little ‘get together’.

The younger man wasn’t happy with the discussion, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek—a tell-tale sign of his annoyance you’d come to learn— as he eyed you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. With a soft scoff, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the back of the couch. You didn’t appreciate the small curve of his lips.

“You realize I'm an adult, right…? And that I technically don’t have to ask you permission for anything…right…?”

You licked your own lips, briefly glancing away with a sigh.

“Is that why you brought it up to me instead of just telling your father what you’re going to do?”

His expression shifted, the smile dropping from his lips, and you watched the way his jaw ticked.

“Ward would flat out tell you no, and you know it. I’m simply telling you no more than ten people. The last ‘get together’ you had here is still a little fresh in all of our minds, and you’re lucky I’m compromising at all after Wheezie found a condom in her room,” you reminded him. “There’s a reason you’re having this conversation with me and not Ward.”

Rafe’s nostrils flared, but he otherwise said nothing.

His silence gave you the opportunity to let out a sigh, stepping towards him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes closely followed the movement, used to him watching your every move. It was like Rafe didn’t trust your very presence, something you were sure he’d be over by now, but time had yet to prove you right.

“I’m on your side, Rafe. You understand that, right?”

He merely looked away from you, and you continued.

“I don’t enjoy you and Ward being at odds. You and I are a whole other conversation, but you and your father? I’m trying to help you help yourself, and you just seem to fight me every step of the way-.”

“You’re not my mother,” the blond coldly interrupted, making you swallow.

It wasn’t his sentiments that surprised you, but that he was actually saying it aloud. You long knew and accepted that Rafe didn’t—and probably wouldn’t ever—see you as such, but you were taken aback by him saying it and also saying it to your face.

“You’re just some thick thirty something piece of ass my dad married because hey…it’s not socially acceptable for a fifty-year old man to marry some twenty-five year old, so a thirty-eight year old is the next best thing he can get without being called a weirdo.”

He said all of this with a casual shrug, throwing his hands up, and you blinked.

You watched him as he straightened himself, slowly approaching you as he sniffed, eyeing you in a way that—for the first time ever—actually made you want to hide away from the world.

“Don’t worry about the party. I’ll just have it somewhere else…”

Rafe didn’t give you time to respond, brushing by you and leaving you to mull over his harsh words alone.

“Oh!”

You clutched your water bottle to you, eyes wide as they landed on Kelce of all people in your kitchen. The dark skinned young man was merely getting a snack, nothing that caused for any kind of alarm, but you simply hadn’t even known he was here. His presence surprised you, and clearly yours surprised him by the way he also looked at you with wide eyes. Although you didn’t understand why.

This was your house, after all…

“How long have you been in the house?” you wondered, moving to the sink to refill your bottle.

“Uh…only about twenty minutes,” was his answer.

You nodded at that, understanding why you hadn’t been privy to his presence. You’d been lounging by the pool for at least forty-five, and when you turned back around, Kelce’s dark eyes met yours, the look on his face unreadable. The silence between you felt awkward for some reason, and you hesitantly took a sip of water, eyeing him with a frown.

“Is Topper here too? Do I need to make extra pasta tonight?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean…yes to the Topper question, and no to the other. We’re not staying,” he said with a shrug just as you heard loud footsteps on the stairs. “I actually think Rafe is chilling at my place tonight.”

“Okay,” you slowly responded with an even slower nod, still unsure about the look on his face.

You were going to ask him if he was alright when another familiar face joined you both, Topper stopping just at the entrance of the kitchen. His brows rose a tad when his gaze landed on you, and whatever look passed over his features had come and gone too fast for you to name.

“Hey, Mrs. Cameron,” he greeted. “Going for a swim?”

You briefly glanced down at your bathing suit, fixing him with a look that had him nodding.

“Right, stupid question…”

You looked between the both of them, curiously and suspiciously, mind running wild with the possibilities of just what could be going on with them.

You settled on weed.

“If you three are smoking up there…”

They both rushed to deny that, frantically correcting you.

“No, no, we’re just…you look very pretty today,” Topper politely said.

The compliment—even if a little backhanded—took you by surprise, having not expected that, at all. You looked between them again, recognizing the appreciative look in Kelce’s gaze at last, and you let out a small snort. It was flattering in the way a compliment from a child was, and you shook your head.

“Thank you, Topper,” you finally replied, moving to leave the kitchen. “I’ll be outside if any of you need anything.”

You hoped that they wouldn’t. Aside from the three of them, the house was empty, and you’d been taking advantage of such all day. A nice glass of lemon water, an engaging book, and a beautiful sky was all the company you needed to relax poolside. You really didn’t want that to be disturbed by college sophomores burning down the kitchen.

As you made your way towards the backdoor, you briefly caught sight of Rafe standing at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other occupied with his phone. His gaze broke away from the device just as you looked up, and your gazes only connected for a second or two before you were looking away, but not before throwing him a small smile.

You knew he wouldn’t return it.

The rest of your day was spent as peacefully as you hoped, Kelce’s words ringing true when Rafe did eventually leave the house with no intention of returning it seemed. You were done cooking just as Sarah and Wheezie came home, and although Ward partook in supper, he did have to leave early and retire to his study. You got the feeling that he’d be coming to bed late again, and as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore that annoying tickle in your chest.

A small voice in your head told you there was a fine line between work and spousal neglect, and you’d shaken your head, cursing yourself for being so dramatic. Besides, even if Ward was neglecting you a tad, a million women would kill to be in your position. A few months without proper affection and alone time with your husband was nothing when you considered the lifestyle you were living.

Especially for someone who looked like you.

Your life could be a whole lot worse, and you promptly told yourself to stop acting so spoiled. It was just another rough work patch, something you should be more than used to. Granted, this time seemed to be dragging on longer than the others, but you knew that Ward would be able to step back some time soon and take you on dates and spend time with you and make love to you like he normally did.

You just needed to be patient.

“You really don’t have to help clean up, Rafe.”

That was what you told the younger man as he grabbed the leftover casserole, searching for a tupperware to put it in. You eyed him but not in a way that was thankful or curious but instead in a way that was…perplexed. You’d been eyeing him that way for weeks, now, and you couldn’t find it in you to care if you were being subtle or not.

Gradually—almost too gradually for you to notice in the beginning—Rafe had softened towards you. That might’ve been the wrong word to use, but he was noticeably more agreeable—not necessarily kind—and it had thrown you for a loop from the first moment you noticed it. It was something so small—putting gas back in your car after he’d borrowed it to be exact—but it was also so out of the ordinary for Rafe that you couldn’t help but to linger on it. You’d stood by the door for what felt like minutes, still holding the keys he’d dropped in your hand.

It would’ve been easy to write it off as a one time uncharacteristic display of behavior but then he was asking if you wanted anything before he headed out and was helping you clean up after dinner and was replacing that one thing you were about to run out of before you even had the chance to. You weren’t complaining in the slightest, but you had gone to Ward to ask what he’d said to the younger Cameron to get him to treat you better.

“Nothing, I swear,” Ward had said to you, pulling you into his lap at his desk. “Maybe he’s just realizing how lucky he is to have you.”

You’d resisted the urge to roll your eyes at that, positive that Ward had found a way to put the fear of God into your stepson.

“I helped make the mess, didn’t I?” Rafe drawled, responding to you. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve got plans tonight.”

You frowned at his back at that, finding that incredibly hard to believe. If Rafe wasn’t with his friends, then he was spending his free time with his girlfriend. You’d never officially met her, but you heard him mention her in passing sometimes, and you were positive she was who you’d seen him at The Wreck with once. She was blonde and thin and as stereotypically Kook as one could get. She seemed just Rafe’s type, and wondering if she was out of town or something, you asked him.

He didn’t respond right away, and you almost assumed that you’d overstepped, tried to force this relationship too far too fast, and you'd be confronted with the Rafe you were used to at any moment now. However, the younger man only shrugged, putting the casserole in the fridge.

“She just has other plans tonight…”

The response was vague, but you left it alone, simply nodding.

When Rafe needed to get by you to put the empty dish in the dishwasher, his hand briefly touched the small of your back, and you gave it no mind but you did eye him again as he put more dishes in the dishwasher. Ward may have sworn up and down that he didn’t say anything to Rafe, but you surely didn’t believe him. You supposed that it didn’t matter either way, not particularly picky about whatever forced Rafe to start respecting you.

The other man wasn’t rolling his eyes at you and insulting you and giving you looks that could chill ice. That was all that mattered, and so pleased with Rafe’s forced change of heart, there were moments that you forgot about how tied up Ward was with work. After all, you’d long noted that it was your stepchildren that were the biggest pleasant surprises in your marriage, and now that that included Rafe, you almost didn’t mind that a month turned into two and then into three and eventually four of hardly any affection from your husband. 

Your mind was off of it…until Rafe was mentioning it.

“If I wasn’t so sure that he’s obsessed with you, I’d think he was soft launching a divorce or something…”

You frowned at Rafe’s words, giving him a look that he clearly felt because he looked up from his phone. The look in your eyes must have portrayed your thoughts well because Rafe rolled his eyes, reaching over and touching your shoulder.

“It’s called a joke,” he drawled. “I know how hectic work has been lately. Trust if he could be up under you all the time, he would.”

The way Rafe said that gave you pause, thrown by the slight bitterness you swore you heard there. You’d always had the brief thought that maybe Rafe was just jealous of your relationship with Ward, his desire for the other man’s approval no secret. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a child to envy the part of their parent that couldn’t be shared with them but with a lover or friend instead. Rafe was continuing before you could linger on that thought though.

“I’m just pointing out that work hasn’t ever been this bad before…”

He only just dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“I know he probably hates it as much as you do, but unlike you, he can’t distract himself with Wheezie or Sarah or shopping or days spent by the pool…”

Rafe trailed off, a glint in his eyes that came and went, and you watched as he pulled his lip between his teeth before fixing you with a haughty smile.

“It’ll pass,” he shrugged.

You had never worried that it wouldn’t, but if even Rafe had noticed, you started to wonder if maybe you should.

“Uh…yeah, Rafe’s just upstairs.”

You moved out of the way to let the younger girl in, the ire on her face as clear as day. You watched her as she stomped up the stairs, and you worriedly wondered if you’d done the right thing. What if Rafe wasn’t expecting her? Even worse…what if they were in some kind of fight and she chose to hash it out here? Closing the front door, you quickly made your way to the bottom of the stairs, surprised to hear their voices so clearly.

It was clear to you that he hadn’t let her in his room.

“The whole nonchalant boyfriend thing is getting old, Rafe.”

You blinked at that.

“Every time I want to see you, it’s excuses. You cancel half the plans we make, and when you are with me, your mind is a million miles away,” the blonde girl practically spat. “So, you either don’t have the balls to dump me or there’s someone else.”

Her tone got particularly nasty near the end there.

“...and God knows I would love to see who you’d dare to cheat on me with.”

This conversation felt too personal—too raw—and you slowly backed away just as Rafe let out a cold chuckle. You made your way to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner, the task having been interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Your frown deepened as you chopped onions, unsure of what was going on between Rafe and his girlfriend but hoping he had the decency to treat her right.

You mulled over her words, confusion filling you as they played in your mind. Rafe had been spending so much time at home the past few months that you found it hard to believe he’d been putting an ounce of effort into anyone else. The only woman you were sure he was spending a considerable amount of time with was…well…you. The thought made you snort, but it was the truth. It was funny because you were sure that you’d seen more of Rafe than you had your own husband as of late..

So many times you were already asleep when he came to bed, and when you woke up, his side of the bed was empty. There had been quite a few days when Rafe was the only other person at the breakfast table and some days where he was wading in the same pool you were lounging by or just scrolling on his phone while you read on the couch. Ward had long told you he hadn’t said a thing to Rafe about treating you better, and at the time you hadn’t believed him, but you also felt like you knew Rafe well, and you knew he wasn’t the type to do what he didn’t want to do for long—if at all.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of their hushed voices traveling into the kitchen as they moved through the house, tones angry.

“Do not talk about her like that,” Rafe suddenly spat, those words as clear as day, and you paused in what you were doing.

A few more hushed words were angrily exchanged, and it wasn’t long before you heard the door slam.

“Rafe…”

Your disappointed tone was all that met him when he stepped into the kitchen, and he eyed you, a hand in his pocket.

“It’s not what you think,” was all he said. “She’s full of herself, alright? If I’m not in the mood to be around her then I must be cheating.”

You pressed your lips together as he neared the island.

“I don’t know… It sounded like she has every reason to suspect to me.”

Rafe fixed you with a look you couldn’t name, a smirk dancing along his lips.

“Eavesdropping…?”

Now, you rolled your eyes, giving him a pointed look.

“Not on purpose, no, but… Whoever this other girl is, defending her like that to your girlfriend surely won’t earn you any points.”

His laugh took you by surprise, and you looked at him as he leaned his forearms on the island top, looking up at you from beneath his lashes. His hair kissed his forehead.

“I wasn’t defending some ‘other girl’,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I was defending you.”

You faltered at that, blinking with parted lips.

“She said something about having to talk to you just to see me and…” he shrugged. “I didn’t like it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, simply settling for ‘oh’.

“Trust me there is no other girl…just you, and it’s not your fault that my stepmom is more interesting to be around than that stuck up bimbo.”

You didn’t like the way he talked about her, but he was patting your hand and leaving the kitchen before you could reprimand him on it.

You weren’t all that surprised to find your living room occupied by familiar faces—more than used to it—but you were taken aback when one of those familiar faces greeted you with a charming grin.

“Hey, Mrs. Cameron…”

Kelce’s tone made you roll your eyes, and you didn’t miss the way Topper lightly hit his arm.

“Afternoon,” you said, a comment about the weather on your lips when the dark skinned boy was suddenly on his feet.

“Let me help you with those,” he hurried to say, taking half of the grocery bags before you had a chance to protest. “They look kind of heavy for you.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” you lightly told him.

You supposed that Kelce found himself with a bit of a crush on you—you weren’t stupid—but it was harmless. After all, it manifested in ways such as him complimenting you when he saw you and helping you put groceries away. It was hardly anything to find fault in and complain about. At least, that was how you saw it, but evidently others didn’t agree.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The cold voice had you both pausing, and for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn it was Ward, but no one was more surprised than you to come face to face with Rafe. You blinked in confusion at him, but the blond only had eyes for his friend, those baby blues narrowed in a way you hadn’t seen in some time. He looked at Kelce like he wasn't a friend, and you took a few steps towards him.

“Kelce was just-.”

“I know what Kelce was doing,” was all Rafe said, his tone and few words enough to make the young man in question slink away.

You watched him disappear with a scoff, slowly looking at Rafe again.

“He’s your friend, Rafe. No need to be rude,” you lightly scolded.

The blond rolled his eyes, slowly rolling his head to look at you with a gleam in his eyes that made you freeze for half a second. He’d been so nice to you lately that you sometimes forgot how mean he could be—how mean he could look—but that glint in his gaze was gone just as fast as it came. A smirk ghosted over his lips, and there was nothing humorous about it.

“I need to be rude because he’s my friend,” he said, finally moving to help finish putting up the groceries. “He’s been sniffing around you for months, and you’re just lapping it up.”

You frowned at Rafe, prepared to say something against that when his next words forced you to swallow your words.

“I know my dad’s kind of been…” he slowly ran his gaze over you. “...dropping the ball lately…”

You reared back at that, completely aware of what he meant.

“...but don’t encourage Kelce. You might find it sweet, but he’d fuck you in a heartbeat if he could.”

“Rafe!”

He ignored your outburst, slowly brushing by you as he put some spices up in the cabinet. When you looked over your shoulder, he was nearing you again, and he chuckled when his hand rested on your back.

“He’s my friend,” he softly said, his voice sounding like it was right at your ear. “No one knows what he’s thinking more than me.”

You didn’t doubt that—and you surely didn’t deny it—but you still didn’t appreciate his callous tone and words. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he left the kitchen, taking slow steps to stand at the entrance as he rejoined his friends. You couldn’t see them, but you could hear them, and you pressed your lips together at the sound of Kelce’s apologies.

“You know he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Topper’s voice echoed. 

You chose to tune them out, turning away to gather the empty bags.

Rafe’s words—and the look he gave you—took up your thoughts, and there was a  bitter taste in your mouth that you swallowed down. You didn’t appreciate his commentary on your romantic relationship with his father, both because it was embarrassing and wholly inappropriate. Was it that obvious to everyone else how isolated you and Ward had become from one another? You hated the idea of Rafe and his friends sitting around and talking about it.

While your relationship with the blond had improved, there were times where he definitely talked to you like less of a stepson and more like a friend. You preferred if there were some boundaries, but you reminded yourself that this was Rafe and maybe this was the best you’d ever get. You asked yourself if you really preferred how things used to be over whatever this was?

Rafe only chuckled at you a few weeks later when you brought it up.

“Come on, you know it’s mostly just teasing,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, I see how much my dad’s work bothers you when it pulls him away.”

He shrugged again.

“Sue me for trying to make you laugh about it…”

He was helping you put up clothes that you’d washed, and your gaze traveled to the dresser, eyes landing on a picture of the man in question. Rafe had always been observant, that had never been one of the issues with him. It was always getting him to do something with what he’d observed that was the problem. If someone had told you a year ago that you would be discussing your marriage with Rafe of all people—even just casually—you probably would have laughed.

You weren’t laughing today though.

“I appreciate the gesture…sort of but…that’s not your place, Rafe,” you sighed. “You’re supposed to illegally drink and get high and do stupid things with your friends. You are not supposed to concern yourself with how my marriage to your father is going.”

You paused.

“...even if it is just a joke.”

You heard Rafe make a noise you didn't recognize, and when you looked at him, his gaze was already on you. He’d long stop folding Ward’s shirts it seemed, content to lean against the nightstand and watch you. His expression was even—unreadable—and when he tilted his head to the side, he hummed.

“Why not?”

You hadn’t expected that response.

“He’s my father, and you’re married to him, and that does affect me in some ways. It affects all of us actually…”

You frowned at him.

“You think Sarah and Wheezie haven’t noticed?”

You deflated a bit at that, eyes widening a tad.

“You don’t think they talk about how different things are between you lately and if you’re getting a divorce?”

You slowly shook your head, lips parting, but Rafe continued before you could say anything. 

“Who do you think has to reassure them? Because they’re definitely not going to talk to either of you,” he scoffed. “I think I should be allowed to comment on your relationship because if it goes south…well…we lose another mom.”

You looked away at that, entirely unprepared for the turn this conversation had taken. Rafe had a point, you had to admit, and you almost felt silly for expecting Rafe to have no opinions on a relationship that he was correct in saying affected him. Attempting to lighten the mood, you let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, let’s be honest. You never thought of me as much of a mom, anyway,” you folded a shirt. “Ward and I are not getting divorced anytime soon, but if we did, I have a feeling you wouldn’t be too bent out of shape over it.”

The other man didn’t respond right away, and when you glanced at him again you realized why. He’d moved closer—you hadn’t even heard him do so—and you watched him take the shirt out of your hand. His fingers brushed yours as he did so, and Rafe pursed his lips, eyeing the shirt in his hands.

“That might’ve been true some time ago, but… I’ve come to appreciate you a lot more than I have before.” 

He continued before you could even smile at that.

“The potential our relationship has and…what we can do for each other…”

He looked between your eyes as he said this, and the longer he stared at you, the more off the silence felt.

“Right,” you slowly said, and Rafe only smirked.

“My dad hasn’t really been doing his part to keep you happy in this family,” you shook your head at him, but he ignored it. “...and I get it. Work and all that, but I actually like having you around now. Especially when you walk around in those tight little one pieces…”

You stumbled back at his words, heart dropping to your stomach.

“Rafe-.”

“I mean, I doubt you’d ever leave…but you would be a lot less likely too I think if someone else was picking up his slack.”

You were acutely aware of how quiet the rest of the house was—because it was empty. Wheezie and Sarah were both with friends, and Ward was out, leaving just you and Rafe. That fact had you blinking, and while some part of you wanted to write Rafe’s words off to a sick joke, something deep down knew that he wasn’t anything less than serious.

“What…? Kelce of all people can flirt with you, and you eat it up, but here I am telling you I’m going to do what my dad can’t, and you look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin,” he chuckled with a shake of his head.

“I’m not married to Kelce’s father,” you breathed. “...and he’s like a horny teenager. He’s of no consequence—Rafe…you’re in your father’s bedroom…telling his wife that…”

You couldn’t even get the words out, and Rafe grabbed your arm, pulling you closer.

“That what? That I don’t understand how my dad can have a wife like you and still prioritize work?”

You attempted to move away, but Rafe’s strength took you by surprise, gasping when he held you against him, one hand finding a home on the curve of your waist.

“That I get why Kelce keeps seeing if you’ll give him an ‘in’ because I feel the exact same way? Except, unlike Kelce, I don’t really care about getting permission?”

That angered you, and you were sure it was all over your face.

“Rafe-.”

He swallowed what you were about to say with a kiss, effectively shutting you up. If his strength before had surprised you, it was nothing in comparison to the feeling of Rafe lifting you and depositing you on Ward’s bed. It shook under your combined weight, and he was moving at a pace that was hard to keep up with. Rafe’s mouth was all over you, and so much was happening that it made it hard to think straight.

“Rafe…stop,” you gasped.

“Why?” he wondered against the skin of your stomach as he pushed your dress up. “How long has it been? How many months? You can’t tell me that you won’t enjoy this.”

You pushed at his head, but it was of no use. When his mouth attached to your cunt, you reached out to clutch at the bed, thighs almost crushing his head as you tensed beneath him. The feel of his tongue sliding between your folds had your eyes rolling, and deep in the back of your mind you hoped and prayed that no one would walk through that door.

You didn’t even want to imagine what this would look like should someone come up the stairs.

With his arms hooked around your thighs, he rolled you both until you were sitting on his face, and once again his strength had your head spinning. It seemed that in this position you;d surely have more of an upper hand now, but Rafe’s grip was strong on your legs. To your dismay, you couldn’t lift yourself off of him, and you had no choice but to press your hand into the mattress as he ate you out. His head moved beneath you, moving from side to side as he lapped at you, panties harshly pulled to the side.

As you felt how wetter you were becoming under his ministrations, you thought about his words—about how he said you’d enjoy this.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right, but the way he hummed told you that your body was doing that for him. You cried out when he slipped two fingers into you, stretching you out in time with tasting you, and the only sound in the room was that of your harsh pants and the wet sound of his tongue and mouth between your legs. He only allowed you to roll off of him when you came—hard and mind shattering and everything that you hadn’t felt in months.

You were a panting and overheated mess as you laid there, eyes wide and unblinking as you tried to process what had just happened. As you did, you could hear Rafe moving behind you, and only then did you attempt to gather your thoughts and sit up. You were embarrassingly wet, and the fact that Rafe was the cause had your head spinning and stomach turning. Before you could turn around and ask him what the hell was wrong with him, his hand was in your hair.

You’d only just gotten it done, and he twisted the braids around his fist.

He shushed you when you cried out, using that same strength to push you back down. His other hand was in between your legs—stroking you and fondling you and sinking his fingers into you again and again. With your dress around your waist, you could feel his bare skin against your thigh. You could feel the length of him and how hard he was, and while half of you feared what was to come, the other half couldn’t help but to make you clench around his fingers at the thought of Rafe sinking his cock into you.

“You’re so fucking tight, you know that?”

He pulled his fingers out before pulling at your panties, the fabric stretching painfully before they tore completely. 

“My dad must only fuck you once a month,” he chuckled to himself.

“Rafe,” you scolded, attempting to push against him, but your movements faltered when the head of him pushed into you.

It made you sharply inhale, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he slowly sank into you inch by inch. His hand was still tight in your hair, pressing your head down to the mattress while he forced you to arch your back. You heard him cursing the more he filled you, and when his hips were flush with yours, he wasted no time in pulling out before swiftly sliding back inside of you.

You couldn’t swallow down your moan.

“That’s it,” you heard him breathe. “You missed this, huh?”

He wasn’t wrong, but Rafe was also…longer than his father. Thicker too, and the stretch was something you weren’t used to. The feel of his cock made your toes curl, and you clawed at the expensive bedding, hating the way you started to meet his thrusts. Your brain felt like it was taken over by a fog, only able to focus on Rafe fucking you and chasing your high by using his cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and you were so grateful the house was empty.

You were embarrassingly loud.

You felt unable to control yourself, crying out as you clenched around him and words tumbling from your lips that you didn’t recognize. Had you begged him to fuck you harder? Stretch your pussy? Come inside of you? It was possible, to be honest. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed this feeling until it was your stepson of all people giving it to you.

When you eventually found yourself on your back—and face to face with Rafe once again—you were lifting your hips to make him sink into you faster every time. Your dress had long been discarded, underwear hanging off of your hips in tatters, and your nails were pressed into his back. If Rafe was bothered by the feel of that, he didn’t say anything, but you doubted that was the case. He was too occupied with connecting his hips with yours and plunging into your soaking cunt. The sound of your coupling was loud—the squelch of your core reaching your ears with every thrust—and you absentmindedly noted that you’d never been this wet in your life.

Was it the way he’d just taken what he wanted? You’d never been the kind of woman into stuff like that. Perhaps it was the obvious though—the forbidden nature of it all. Rafe was your husband’s son, and he was fucking you—on Ward’s bed no less. You’d never been into stuff like that either though. Everything about this was nothing at all like you, and when Rafe’s phone lit up on the bed—a familiar name popping up on the screen—your heart sank.

His girlfriend.

You’d forgotten all about her too although you weren’t so sure she and Rafe were even together anymore. You hadn’t seen her or heard about her in some time, not since that day she came by the house, and his words and demeanor that day suddenly made more sense to you. He had been consuming so much of his time with you, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. Now, though…

You had no choice but to acknowledge what had been right in front of you all along.

You threw your head back as Rafe thrust into you slow, your legs parted as he rested on his knees, his gaze focused on where his cock disappeared into you. You looked down too, growing wetter at the sight of your juices on him. You were literally dripping around the length of him, making a mess of your thighs and the bedding, and when Rafe spoke to you the first time, you didn’t hear him.

“What…?” you breathed, looking at him through hooded eyes.

“I want to come inside of you so bad,” he purred, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Want to fill you up on his sheets and let it drip out.”

You didn’t say anything to that, but the way you clenched around him made Rafe chuckle.

“Does that turn you on? Hmm? Does my dad know what a whore he married?”

His thrusts grew rougher, making you gasp.

“I should probably be grateful though. Anything less, and you would’ve fought harder to stop me,” he murmured. “...but you didn’t because you knew you’d enjoy this. You knew you’d like fucking me.”

You could feel how close you were—and you were sure Rafe could too—and you dug your nails into his arms. You did want him to come inside of you, you wanted to feel him twitch as he spilled into you—filling you up and coating your walls—and you wanted to push it out after he pulled out of you. Ward always used condoms, and you understood it. He didn’t want any more children, and you were so far from menopause, but you couldn't even care about that right now as Rafe pushed you towards both of your highs.

When he came, he came with a loud grunt, and you couldn’t stop moaning as the feel pushed you over the edge. You swore that you felt him deep in your gut, his hips roughly slapping against yours as he forced you to milk him dry. Your legs shook and your vision blurred, and you were disappointed when Rafe didn’t stay in you long enough. Your heart was going a mile a minute, and you couldn’t move.

You just laid there with your legs strewn about, Rafe’s cum between your folds and sweat clinging to your skin. When you finally looked at him, he was running his hand through his hair, but it did no good. It was so damp with sweat. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just fucked his father’s wife, and when his gaze met yours, there was a haughty smile on his lips.

“He’ll probably be working late tonight…”

You swallowed at that, hating the way your heart jumped.

“...so you’ll have to be quiet while he’s in his study.”

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

What Could Have Been

Summary: You've reached the age you can be chosen. Little do you know your future has been planned out from the start.

Pairing: Philip Graves x reader

Word Count: 7, 358 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, Omegaverse, Alternate Universe, AU of an AU, suggestive content, mentioned predatory behaviors towards a minor, Philip Graves is a major creep, reader has a set age for plot (she is an adult), dubcon (pushing noncon at the end) but it's muddy water because a/b/o, kissing, touching, lingerie, panic, coercion, virginity and purity culture, fade to black because I couldn't write smut for this

A/N: I am...very sorry for this. Honestly I've been debating posting it but I wrote 7k words and I don't want that to go to waste. This is very...dark. A lot is implied but there's still some fairly disturbing content because of those things. The reader is 18 in this because of plot, but it still feels very...icky. Definitely recommend reading Chapter 34 before reading this to understand the context. Not necessary to read. Just an AU what if kind of bit for the story.

Also if you're finding this and you've never seen my stuff before, Hi! I highly recommend reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood first before this for context otherwise some things might not make sense. I suppose it could be read as a stand alone but still, context is nice to have

What Ifs Masterlist | Directory

“You’ve been chosen.” 

You had barely managed to get a bite in of breakfast when one of the staff members had pulled you away and led you to the director’s office. None of the omegas at FIOT particularly like him. He’s a small man, middle aged and balding. His scent is...not pleasant. Nutty with undertones of wet animals and whatever he ate for his meals that day. Every omega in the institute dreads being called to his office, being closed in with the offensive smell he permeates. 

You would have been experiencing that same disgust had it not been for your shock at his words. “What?” You breathe, eyes wide. 

“You’ve been chosen.” He repeats, folding his hands on his desk over a thin file. 

“So soon?” You ask, forgetting all decorum and manners you’ve had drilled into your head for two years. 

It’s your eighteenth birthday today. You just became old enough to be chosen a matter of hours ago. 

“This pack is very eager to claim you as their omega.” He says. “One of their betas will be by tomorrow to interview you.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. While it’s shocking you were chosen so soon, this is what you had hoped for. Two years of training and drilling perfection into your head did pay off. You’ve hardly been on the available list more than a few hours and already there’s a pack interested in you. Something about it has a chill running down your spine, tickling at the base of your neck. You brush it off as shock at this all happening so soon. 

“You may return to breakfast.” The director says, going back to his paperwork. 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, exiting his office. 

It doesn’t feel like your feet touch the floor as you walk back to the mess hall, your body floating as you make your way through the halls. If tomorrow goes well, this will be the last day you spend in this building, this prison you’ve been confined to. They’ll be here as early as they can be tomorrow, if they’re this eager to choose you. 

The thought has something prickling in the back of your mind still. 

Who are they? Who is this eager to choose you? The must have known about you before you even showed up in the registry as being available. You’ve heard rumors that institutes will supply information about omegas to packs for the right price under the table. Information on omegas that aren’t old enough to be chosen. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if FIOT was one of those institutes. The packs that get their omegas here are packs that can pay a hefty price. There’s usually a waiting period while background checks are done and information has to be verified and packs have to interview with the director before omegas themselves can even be interviewed by the pack. You’ve seen it take weeks before. 

Whoever the alpha of this pack is...they knew about you before you became available. 

“What did the director want?” One of the omegas in your age group asks as you take your seat at the table again. Amanda. She cried for five days when she was brought in. 

The others at the table lean in close, like you’re about to reveal some big secret. 

“I’ve been chosen.” You tell them. The words almost seem like a foreign language on your tongue. 

They all cheer happily, getting looks from the wardens around the mess hall. 

“That’s amazing!” Chelsea says, wrapping her arms around you to squeeze you in a tight hug. 

“So soon?” Amanda asks as the congratulations die down. 

“Yeah.” You say. “They’re interviewing me tomorrow.” 

They all share looks, and you know they’re thinking the same thing you are. 

The rumors are true.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” The warden for your dorm group says, as if you’re not sitting there too. She’s responsible for overseeing the small group of eight omegas you’re a part of. She’s the most knowledgeable about the omegas under her watchful eyes, and it’s standard practice for the wardens to sit in on the interviews between the pack beta and the omega being chosen. 

“Quite.” The beta says, looking over your thick file. Bryan, he’d introduced himself as. He’d shaken your hand, something you hadn’t been expecting. He acknowledged you as existing right away, something that doesn’t happen often in the stories you’ve heard about interviews, stories from omegas that had made it this far in the process, but were rejected in the end. “Excellent scores, quite extensive essays.” He says, flipping through the file. He’s not really looking at it. You can see his eyes just scanning the pages. He already knows. He came into the building with his answer. 

Whoever his alpha is has already seen your file. 

He closes the file, pushing it forward on the table. He’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes on you. Yours are lowered respectfully, no matter how badly you want to stare back at him. 

“To be honest, my alpha already made his decision before I got here.” Bryan says, leaning his arms on the table. “Your profile was enough to convince him.” 

“So, you’d like to move forward with the process?” Warden Jameson asks. 

“Yes.” He says, nodding. “She’s going to be a perfect fit.” 

You glance up at him, a warm smile on his face as he stares at you. It’s really happening. You really have been chosen. 

The next hour is a flurry of paperwork and signatures. None from you, of course, but from the beta of your new pack. The paperwork would be sent to your new alpha to sign off on and to finalize the decision once you meet him. No one has ever been sent back after that point, yet you can’t help the nervous flutter in your stomach. What if they don’t like you after all? What if they made a hasty decision and regret it as soon as they meet you? What if you mess everything up?

You follow Bryan and the director towards the entrance to the building, something you haven’t seen since your tour after your arrival. It’s off limits to omegas, several locked doors standing between them and freedom. 

Or more like to keep others out. 

There’s someone at the front desk as you pass by, and you turn to look out of curiosity. It’s a middle aged woman with blonde hair, dressed in a business suit. “Kate Laswell, here for an appointment with Director Jones.” 

You don’t get to hear anything else, ushered out into the world by the director. You’ve heard how giddy he gets about omegas leaving from staff, though you supposed that’s because it’s extra money in his pockets. The more omegas he can match and get out of FIOT, the more the government pays him. 

“I’m looking forward to hearing how she’s settling in.” The director says to Bryan as he hands off your small bag of meager belongings. 

“Of course.” Bryan says, setting it in the front seat of the car waiting out front. “My alpha will be in touch.” 

“Good.” He shakes Bryan’s hand before turning to you. “Good luck. I expect the best from you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, dropping your gaze out of respect. 

Bryan opens the car door for you and you slide in, smoothing out your skirt. You’re still in your uniform, and you won’t be able to change until you get to where you’re going. If they let you change. It’s important they remember where you came from, where you were taught the things you’re supposed to know, where you were trained to be the perfect omega. As if they could forget where they paid for you. 

Bryan drives away from the institute, taking you away from the place that’s been your home for the last two years. It’s the first time you’ve been outside those walls since you were forced in, ripped away from your home the day after your presentation. You’ve thought about your family many times over the last two years. Where are they now? How are they doing? What have your siblings been up to? Have any of them presented as omegas too? 

Maybe your new alpha will let you contact them again. 

It’s wishful thinking. Most don’t. Not the kinds of alphas that buy from FIOT. 

“Nervous?” Bryan asks, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Yes, sir.” You say, smoothing your hands over your skirt. You’re projecting your scent without even realizing it. “Sorry, sir.” 

He smiles. “I don’t blame you. I’d be nervous too. Don’t worry, though. You’re going to a good place.” 

Despite his well meaning words, you can’t help but feel a bit of trepidation. Is it a good place? Or is it only a good place by beta’s standards? He can’t possibly know, he can’t possibly understand, unless there’s other omegas. 

You’re almost excited by the thought of being around other omegas in a pack. Having that chance to have friends and bond with others like you who know. Those who understand. 

You can’t help but stare as Bryan pulls into the parking garage of a very nice hotel. The cars in the parking garage are some of the most expensive you’ve ever seen. You’re not surprised, given the types of alphas that choose omegas from FIOT. Rich, important alphas looking for trophies to wave around. 

Look at me, look at my perfect omega. 

Bryan opens your door for you, helping you out of the car. He’s holding your bag in his hand, using the other to guide you towards the elevator. His hand is warm, even though your back is beginning to sweat a bit. You’re really nervous now, but you try to keep your scent under control. 

Your new life is about to begin, the life of a claimed omega. 

Unless they don’t like you. 

You have to do everything in your power to make sure they do.

The elevator ride seems to take a lifetime as you go up to a high floor overlooking the city. You’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice before. You’ve never even been in a building with this many floors before. 

Bryan leads you down the hall to a door, using the keycard to open it. He gives you a reassuring smile before pushing it open and guiding you through. It’s a suite, possibly the nicest hotel room you’ve ever seen. Bryan leads you to the small living area, the man you assume is your alpha seated on one of the couches. He’s sitting there casually, ankle crossed over his knee, his arm thrown over the back of the couch. There’s a grin on his face, your eyes widening as you stare at him. 

“Phil?” 

It comes out before you can stop it, all training and decorum leaving as you stare at him in shock. His smile widens, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples. He’s a bit older now than he had been back then, but it is him. 

“Hi darlin’.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Been a while.” 

Ten years or so. He was your dad’s best friend while he was stationed in Texas. He was at your house constantly, sitting around watching sports and standing in the backyard while your father barbequed. He was always friendly to you, always sitting just a little too close, always hovering. You hadn’t thought anything about it back then. You were too young to understand. 

Now you do. 

You drop your gaze as he approaches, trying to recover from your shock. You still have an impression to make, a role to fill. Calloused fingers cup your chin, lifting your face back up. You stare up into Phil’s bright blue eyes, just as friendly as you remember them being. 

“None of that.” He says softly. “We’re familiar with each other, aren’t we?” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, swallowing thickly. 

A small smile tugs at his lips before he releases you. “Come on, make yourself comfortable.” He motions to the couches. “We've got a few things to discuss.”

Nerves twist in your stomach as you move to the couches, tucking your skirt under you before you sit. The couch is comfortable, your body sinking into the cushion. It's far more comfortable than the chairs and benches at the institute. He takes a seat right next to you, draping an arm across the back of the couch behind you. 

His fingers curl under your chin again, turning your head so you're looking at him. Those bright blue eyes scan your face, taking in every detail.

“Those pictures didn't do you any justice.” He says. Your file is sitting on the table in front of you. “You've always been a pretty little thing.” His thumb traces your jaw, your stomach churning. “Look like your mom more than your dad. That's certainly not a bad thing.” He smirks. 

He holds you there for a moment staring into your eyes. Something tickles in the back of your mind as he stares at you, something instinctual like a warning. He releases you, dropping his hand back onto his lap. 

“It's good to see you again.” He says, the fingers of the hand behind you playing with the strands of your hair. “A lot has changed, hasn't it? I got old, you became an omega. I always knew you would. Your temperament wasn't right for an alpha. Always so calm and eager to please. You weren't rowdy like your brothers. Always such a sweet little thing.” His fingers trail over the back of one of your hands where it's draped in your lap. Your stomach clenches at his touch, something churning inside you, something you haven't felt since the last time you were around him. “You didn't deserve the way he treated you. It wasn't your fault for becoming what you are.”

He's talking about your father. 

“How did you-”

“I was the one he called.” Phil says simply. “Raging and carrying on about his useless child presenting as an omega.” He shakes his head. “So I pulled some strings, promised some favors, and got you into FIOT immediately, with the stipulation that you would be mine as soon as you were old enough.” He grins. “Now here we are!”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. “It was you?”

He nods. “Had to make sure you'd be taken care of until I could come yet you myself. Now you’re here.” His arm wraps tighter around you, the hand that had been brushing yours dropping to wrap around your thigh. You stare up at him as he leans down slightly closer to you. He smells just like you remember. Woody with the rich scent of chocolate underneath. “I will take care of you.” He says, looking pointedly into your eyes. “You'll want for nothing and you'll be happy.”

Will you? 

You break away first, your eyes dropping to stare at the hand that’s gripping your thigh, fingers indenting the skin through your tights. It feels like a threat, a silent reminder of the power dynamic between you, something he won’t say out loud. He’s an alpha, you’re only an omega. He has control over you, he can dictate your entire life now that you’ve been chosen by him. You belong to him, just as he’s wanted. 

He’s been waiting longer than two years. 

“You hungry?” He asks, his entire demeanor suddenly shifting. 

You are hungry. You had left the institute just before lunch, and you had barely been able to eat breakfast because of the nerves. You nod, deciding telling the truth is better than to try to lie to him early on. “Yes, sir.” 

He gives you a grin. “You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Phil, just like old times.” He finally releases you, leaning forward to grab a tri-fold menu off the table. “Pick whatever you like.” He says, putting it in your hands. “I’ll be right back.” 

He gets up from the couch and you watch him go before turning back to the menu. The prices make your stomach churn. Your family wasn’t necessarily poor, but with so many of you, you certainly weren’t taking very many vacations very often. Your family moved around so much there wasn’t much of a need to take vacations either. 

You’re not even sure what to do, looking at the menu. What was acceptable? What if you ordered something too expensive. With a hotel room like this, you’re not sure you could order something too expensive. You’re not even quite sure what Phil does anymore. You remember overhearing a conversation he had with your dad about joining MARSOC before he disappeared from your lives. Is he still involved with the military? Did he leave and enter a new career field, one that allows him to stay in places like this? 

You might never know. It’s not your job to know things like that. 

You just need to know how to serve your alpha and take care of him, follow his orders and give him pups when he desires them. Be a good omega and do whatever it is he wants. Your wants don’t matter, only your alpha’s. 

“Decide what you want?” Phil asks, appearing in front of you again. 

You jump in surprise, having been so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. You’ll have to break that habit and fast. “Yes.” You say, even though you hadn’t even read through the menu in its entirety. 

You try to stop your hands from shaking, picking out the first thing your eyes land on. You’re not even quite sure what it is or if you’ll like it. You needed an answer and you gave it to him. Just exactly what he wanted. 

That is your job, after all. 

Give him exactly what he wants. 

The bed looks plush and comfortable, larger than you’ve slept on in a long time. The beds at FIOT weren’t too terribly uncomfortable, but you’ve gotten so used to sharing a room it seems strange to be sleeping on your own. 

That’s not the only reason it feels strange. 

“Are you not going to-” 

Phil cuts you off before you can finish, not even needing to know what you were going to ask. “No. Not here.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s for when we’re at home. Besides,” He smooths a hand over your hair. “You’ve had a long day.” 

He stares down at you for a moment, and you almost think he’s changing his mind, deciding he can’t wait until you’re back in Texas. Instead he takes a step back, turning to the dresser your bag had been set on. There’s other shopping bags next to it, things you hadn't even noticed when you walked in. 

You had been too focused on the bed. 

“Bryan picked up some clothes.” He turns back to look at you, his hand trailing down your back. “As cute as the uniform is, I’d rather you be comfortable.” 

You can see it in his eyes. He’s picturing you in it, and not standing before him. It makes your skin crawl. 

“Get some sleep.” He says, moving his hand from your lower back. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow. You need anything, I’m across the hall and Bryan’s next door.” 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thank you, Phil.” 

He grins down at you, dimples indenting in his cheeks. “Of course, darlin’.” 

You stare at the door for a minute after he closes it, holding your breath. You half expect him to come back in, change his mind and decide he’d rather do it here. He could barge in, force you down on the bed and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. You’re not supposed to do anything. 

Good omegas do as they’re told. Good omegas don’t fight back. 

You wish the door had a lock on it. 

You jolt awake as you’re jostled in your seat. You let out a quiet sound, not quite sure where you even are, much less what’s going on. 

“Just a bit of turbulence.” A voice says, pushing your head to rest against a shoulder again. 

Right. You’re on a plane heading towards Dallas. You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your head resting on Phil’s shoulder. He smells like scent blockers, all three of you do. The plane is a cocktail of scents, the chemical burn of scent blocker mixed with the ugly mesh of too many scents in one confined space. Not everyone has the decency to use scent blockers while traveling. You’ve always hated planes for that reason. 

You stretch your legs out as much as you can, your knee bumping the tray lightly. It had been lowered, you assume, at some point while you were asleep. Your book is sitting on it, the book you had been reading before you fell asleep. It’s the only one you own, a worn out copy you stole from FIOT’s library during your first week and never returned. The cover is faded and nearly falling off, the pages yellowed and stiff from how many times it’s been read over the last two years. 

You’d had a brief discussion about it before you descended into silence, Phil promising you all the books your heart desires once you get to his home. Your home. 

It’s your home now too. You’re no longer attached to your family, no longer attached to the institute. Phil is your world now, and you exist solely in his sphere. You’re dependent on him, and once the claim is made and the paperwork is filed, you will be his forever. 

There won’t be any going back. 

Phil will never change his mind. 

The plane jostles again and you grip the arm resting on your leg out of instinct. 

“Easy.” Phil shushes you, his lips brushing your forehead. His hand closes around yours, squeezing it gently. “Haven’t flown much, have you?” 

“Twice.” You say, your fully awake brain realizing you’re still leaning against his shoulder, but you’re not sure you should move. He obviously likes it if he let it happen. Will he get mad if you try to move? Would he reprimand you on the plane, even if you are quite spaced out in first class? 

He hums, resting his cheek on your head. “We’ll go on lots of flights together. I’ll take you all over the world.” 

Would he take you to see your family again? 

They were friends once. He has to at least know where they are and what they’re doing. Would he do that for you? Or is he going to keep you isolated as expected to prevent those bonds from forming again. Your only bonds should be with him and his pack. Not your old pack that you left behind for a reason. 

You don’t know anything about his pack. 

You know he has a beta, Bryan, his most trusted beta, from the looks of it. How many others are there? How many other alphas and betas? Is he head alpha, or is there someone else? You can’t imagine Phil not being in charge. He always seemed to take command of a room, even with other alphas. Even with your dad. 

Are there other omegas in his pack? Or will you be alone, surrounded by alphas and betas? 

Can you even ask him? Or is he saving that for later, when you’re at his home. Would he get annoyed if you asked? Would it ruin his plan that he obviously has laid out? 

Your name being said brings you back to reality, your head tilting to look up at Phil. He’s staring down at you, his eyebrows raised. 

“Welcome back.” He says, and for a second you wonder if you fell asleep again. “Lost in your head there, huh?” 

You swallow thickly. “Yeah. My instructors said I have a lot of strengths, but my one fault is I think too much. Sometimes they’d say I’m sucking all the thoughts out of the room. Though, I think that was less of an insult towards me.” 

Phil chuckles. “Got a lot of things going on in that head of yours. Just don’t let it get you too distracted. Hate for something to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead again as the plane begins its descent. 

His words almost feel like a threat again, like a silent warning that something will happen if you don’t stop thinking so much. Will he try to fix that habit for you? Will he try to break you of that? Good omegas don’t have to think, they know and they act. An omega with too many thoughts is too independent. Alphas don’t like independent omegas. They want someone to listen and do as they're told, not question their orders. 

You can’t help but sense the silent threat that radiates from him, the undertone of danger that has warning bells going off in your head. He’s been nice and polite and caring so far. 

How long will that last once you’re in the privacy of his home? 

It’s a nice neighborhood. Nicer than you’ve ever lived in, at least. The houses are big, the cars parked outside are nice, the lawns are pristine. It’s all very picturesque, it all feels very...manufactured. 

Phil drives to the end of the cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of one of the two houses facing the rest of the street. There’s an American flag hung up on the porch rustling with the soft breeze. It’s warm outside, something you haven’t missed. It’s been years since you’ve lived in Texas, ten almost. You had been eight years old when your father received his next change of station orders and your family packed up and moved again. 

That had just been shortly after Phil disappeared from your family’s lives. 

Phil pulls into the garage, parking the SUV next to a rather expensive looking classic sports car. You stare at it for a moment, questioning just what Phil does and how much he makes from doing it. You’re not sure you want to know. 

You fumble with the seatbelt as Bryan opens the door for you, blinking yourself out of your haze. He offers a hand and you let him help you out of the car to not seem rude. Phil gives you a small smile as you approach him. 

He cups your chin, staring down at your face. “Jet lagged?” He asks, his thumb stroking your jaw before letting you go. 

Jet lagged, confused, uncomfortable, unsure. All of the above. 

“Yes.” You nod. 

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour and then you can nap.” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. 

He opens the door into the house, unlocked, you note. The inside is nice. Clean, pristine, staged looking. You’re not sure if anyone even lives in the house. You can’t help but wonder if Phil bought this house just for this moment. 

“Cleaners come twice a week.” He says as he leads you around the first floor. “This whole space is yours, except for this room.” He says pointing out a door at the end of one hallway. “This is my office. Door’s always locked at all times. No one is allowed in besides me. You see anyone trying to get in, you tell me right away. Understood?” 

You nod. The idea of what could be behind that door has a shiver running down your spine.

“Good girl.” He says, booping your nose. “Now, for the best part.” 

He leads you upstairs, giving you a quick tour of guest bedrooms that don’t look like they’ve been touched, bathrooms far too clean to have ever been used. Why he needs so much space is beyond you. 

No, you know why. 

He leads you down to the end of a hallway, a door looming in front of you. You know what’s behind it. It’s what’s been clawing at you since the plane landed, since the drive from the airport, since you stepped foot in Phil’s home. Your home. 

It’s nice inside. Clean, well organized. It looks like a stage in a movie. The bed is large, larger than necessary you think. The comforter is a deep navy with nothing but the necessary amount of pillows on it. There’s a chair in the corner that doesn’t look like it’s ever been sat in. A TV hangs on the wall across from the bed and a dresser sits between two doors on the far wall. The closet and bathroom you assume. It’s spacious, but not comforting. 

That’s your job. 

“Don’t worry, you can add your womanly touch to it later.” Phil says, stepping up behind you. You can’t hide the way your body tenses as his hands slide up your arms. His breath fans over your ear as he leans down, pressing his face against your neck. “We’re going to make good use of this room.” His lips brush your throat, tongue darting out to lick your scent gland. He hums appreciatively. “Sweeter than I remember, those strawberries.” His arms wrap around you, pinning your back against his chest. “We were made for each other.” 

Your stomach clenches as his scent intensifies, blending with yours. You try not to panic as his lips drag up the side of your neck. There’s no stopping him. There’s no convincing him to wait. 

He presses his nose into your hair, taking a deep breath in. “Get some rest.” He finally releases you. “I’ve got some things to take care of, and I don’t doubt the girls will want to take you shopping.” 

“Girls?” You frown, turning to face him. 

“The other pack omegas. They’re excited to finally meet you.” 

Oh. You haven’t even thought about the pack or how big it is or its dynamics. Everything has happened so quickly, there’s been no time for discussions like that. You suppose you should have that conversation soon. Though, it’s been a long day already and he’s not wrong. You do need some rest. 

‘A good night’s sleep is essential for omegas to do their jobs effectively. No alpha wants a whiny omega.’ 

He brushes his hand over your hair, giving you a soft smile. “Take a nap. You look like you need one.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, closing the door behind him. You stare at it for a long moment, half expecting him to change his mind, but you can hear him going down the stairs. You can hear everything in the silence of the house. It’s almost too quiet after the constant noise of the institute. There’s always someone talking, moving around, making noise. Even at night it was never truly quiet. 

Now the silence is almost loud in your ears. 

It won’t be silent forever. 

You stare at the bed, half tempted to just curl up on the floor. He would be mad if you slept in one of the guest rooms. He’d know immediately. You’ll have to brave the bed. Better to do it now than when you have no choice. 

“Look at you!” Hands squeeze your arms. There’s so many scents floating around you, yet it’s comforting. You’re among your own again. “Oh, you’re just a baby aren’t you?” 

Natalie, her name is. You had been introduced in a flurry of excitement, and you had lost track of most of their names. Doesn’t matter, you’ll learn them all eventually. 

Her alpha is Osmond, ‘Oz’ as he’d told you to call him, Phil’s second alpha. Not necessarily a large man, but highly intimidating nonetheless. You’d guess Natalie to be in her 30s, though you’ve never been good at guessing ages. 

“How old are you, sweetie?” She asks, squeezing your arms again. She’s trying to comfort you in your obvious state of overwhelm. 

“Eighteen.” You answer, staring up at her. 

Something flashes across her face, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. “You are a baby.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to cover and we’ve got some errands to run.” 

There’s a lot of omegas. Phil had finally broken down the pack and its dynamics over a late lunch, even introducing you to a few members on your way to Oz’s house. You had your suspicions that Phil was pack alpha, and you were right. His presence, the kind of power he radiates. You’re going to be the head omega once Phil has claimed you. Natalie has been serving that position, as second alpha’s omega. 

You’re not sure you want to take it from her. 

They’re all older than you, if by only a couple of years. You do feel like a baby in their midst, so unprepared and unsure. It’s natural to feel that way, you were taught. There’s a shift, a change in dynamics, an adjustment period in the pack when a new omega is added. 

Why couldn’t Phil have just been the family alpha type?

“Phil says you’ve known him for a while.” Anna, Marcus’ omega, says. 

You nod. “He was friends with my dad when he was stationed in Fort Worth.” 

“That was a while ago.” Jenny says. 

“About ten years.” You say. 

Silence falls in the room for a moment. It’s a tense silence, speaking volumes of their understanding and the realization of the situation. They won’t say anything. They can’t say anything. 

“Well,” Natalie says, breaking the silence. “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything at all, you’ve got us now.” She wraps her arms around you again. She reminds you a bit of your mother, perhaps if your mother hadn’t been constrained by the controlling nature of your father. “All omegas truly have is each other, right?” 

The others agree with her, and you can’t deny it. What do omegas really have? Nothing their alphas don’t want them to have. Nothing parents, institutes, anyone in control don’t want them to have. 

All we really have is each other. 

“I mean it.” Natalie says. “Anything at all.” 

They are excited to take you shopping, despite the heaviness of the conversation that had transpired. They spoil you, throwing bags and bags in the back of the SUV, brushing off any concerns about money. Anything you want or need, you get several of them. It’s overwhelming after never getting anything but the bare necessities and what the institute wants you to have. 

Marcus, one of the higher ranking alphas in the pack, follows everyone around like a security detail. You had been concerned upon hearing only one alpha was accompanying you...until you saw Marcus for the first time. He’s big. Very big. Tall and bulky, he’s the perfect specimen of an alpha. Many young omegas’ dream alpha. Marcus is intimidating, letting off a dangerous air which causes most that pass your group to not even give you a second glance. 

He escorts your small group around, offering up no question or complaint. You almost wish he was going to be your alpha, but then again, you know almost nothing about him. You don’t even really know that much about Phil. Most of the things you know are things you overheard from conversations he had with your father. But how trustworthy are those things, really? You hadn’t understood much until now. Now it all makes sense. 

A lot of things make sense now. 

Natalie stands with you on the sidewalk as Marcus and Bryan carry load after load of bags into Phil’s house. Your house. You’re scared for what’s coming tonight. Phil won’t wait. He won’t put things off, he won’t hold off until your first heat. He’ll want to make things official now, stake his claim as soon as possible. He’s waited ten years for this. 

Natalie smiles softly down at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “Nervous?” She asks, picking up on your uneasy energy. 

You nod, trying to stop the tears from pooling in your eyes. Good omegas serve their alphas, no matter what. 

“I know what that’s like. I was scared shitless too.” She laughs quietly. “I think Oz was just as nervous too. Just relax and breathe. Phil will take care of you. That I can be confident about.” Her smile turns almost bittersweet. She knows. She understands. “You’ll be alright. I’ll come by tomorrow morning, okay?” 

You nod, trying to suppress your nervousness. Natalie will understand, though you’re not so sure Phil will. 

You look terrified as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You bathed an hour ago and yet you still can’t quite bring yourself to leave the bathroom. You smooth your hands over the silk hugging your skin for the thousandth time. You’re shocked you haven’t worn through the thin fabric yet with your sweaty palms. 

Your eyes dart down to the sink, your stomach churning wildly as the bedroom door closes. Phil is back. You’ll have to leave the bathroom soon. You can’t spend the whole night behind the locked door. 

You don’t doubt he’d break it down eventually. 

Then he’ll be angry. 

You let out a long breath, curling your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You have to do this. This is your job, your duty as an omega. Serve your alpha and make him happy. Be a good omega and do what he says. Obedience is an omega’s purpose. This is always what was going to happen, be it with Phil or with a stranger. Perhaps there is a small comfort in the fact you know Phil. You’re familiar with him. Why would he wait ten years for you just to hurt you? 

The little food you managed to eat churns uncomfortably in your stomach. Phil had treated you to dinner before he’d left again, giving you time to clean up and prepare yourself for tonight. For right now. 

You spritz more scent-enhancing perfume on your skin before you let out a long breath. You try to fix your face, not look quite so terrified, but you’re not sure you can hold it as you unlock the door, turning the knob. 

The light in the closet is on, the door half open. Phil must be in there, likely having to maneuver around bags. You’d unpacked some things and put them away, but you’d nearly had a breakdown when you reached the lingerie store bags. You’re wearing some of it now, the silk robe and little white number your fellow omegas had gotten you. Specifically for tonight, you think. You won’t be wearing it again. 

The closet door opens fully, Phil standing there in nothing but his jeans. His eyes trail your body as you stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room. His teeth sink into his lip, his scent thickening. You’re trying to look anywhere but at him but you can’t help the way your eyes are drawn to his form. He’s just as tall and muscular as you remember, more lean than bulky like your father had been. His skin is pale, though you can’t imagine him spending much time lounging in the backyard by the pool. Under the awning at the grill with a beer in hand as he used to do, that you can picture. 

“Look at you.” He says, turning off the light before stepping fully out of the closet. “All wrapped up like a present just for me.” 

You feel like vomiting as he approaches you slowly. You feel like a rabbit trapped in the sights of a hungry wolf, too afraid to run, too afraid to fight back. You’re going to be devoured and there’s no stopping it. 

You jump as his hand cups your face, your eyes darting up to his. There’s a soft look in them, an attempt at soothing your fear. There’s nothing he can do to make this easier, though, other than just get it over with. 

It’ll get easier. That’s what Anna told you. Eventually your omega will be happy, content with a good alpha and a pack. It’s just an adjustment. That’s why it’s recommended to wait when adding a new omega. Get past the adjustment period before reaching this stage. 

How do you stop an alpha that’s been waiting ten years? 

Most alphas don’t wait anyway. 

“Don’t be scared, darlin’.” He says, lips tilting up in a smile. “I’ll take good care of you.” 

His fingers tug at the ties of the robe around your waist, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re shocked he can’t hear it. It’s pulsing in your ears, nearly blocking out all sound as he pulls the tie free, revealing your lacy lingerie underneath. He lets out a low whistle as he pushes the robe off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. 

“Look. At. You.” He says, enunciating each word. His hands slide down your sides, brushing lace and smooth skin. “Can’t wait much longer.” He nearly groans, his gaze darkening. He steps up closer to you, your gaze locked on his. You can’t look down, you can’t stare at the tent in his jeans, you can’t stare at the bulge that’s brushing against your pelvis with every breath. “You ever done this before?” He asks. 

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “N-No.” 

“No?” He raises a brow. “Not even a kiss?” 

You shake your head. 

“Pure little thing, all for me.” He nearly growls, pushing his body fully against yours. His hand cups the side of your neck, something tingling in the back of your brain as his fingers brush the sensitive skin on the back of your neck. 

You’re distracted from that tingle though as he kisses you, his lips rough against yours. You’re not sure what to do, but he doesn’t seem to care. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against him. Your stomach is churning, not entirely from nerves anymore as his scent completely takes over, clouding your mind. Despite your nerves and hesitation, your omega purrs appreciatively. He smells good, like alpha. It’s exactly what your omega wants, what she’s been craving. 

“Fuck,” He groans against your lips, hands tugging at the lace covering your lower back. “So fucking sweet.” He bites at your lower lip, harder than you're expecting. You let out a quiet nose but that only seems to encourage him. 

He pulls away from you, turning you towards the bed. Your palms fall against the mattress to catch yourself. The comforter has been pulled down, your hands falling against the sheets. White sheets. 

Phil’s hands drag up your back until it reaches the top of the lace. He rips it easily, tearing it down the back before he pushes it off your shoulders. His hands run over your skin as he pushes the lace from your body, his back meeting your chest. His skin is warm against yours, his bulge pushing up against your ass at this angle. 

“Sweet little omega.” He growls, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “All for me. All mine, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, alpha.” You say, fingers curling into the sheet beneath your hands. 

He hums appreciatively, nipping at the skin over your scent gland. You can’t help but begin to feel a stirring in your stomach. It feels good, despite everything. Your omega is growing complacent, the promise of what’s coming not nearly quite so frightening. 

It gets easier. 

Phil’s hands rest on your stomach, pushing your body tight against his. “Can’t wait for your next heat.” He groans, pushing his hips against your ass. “Gonna pump you full until it takes, give you a pup like you’ll be begging for. Keep you pumped full, just like your mama, huh. You’ll give me a big pack, won’t you?” 

You’re glad he can’t see your face as he holds you there, your eyes glued to the white sheet in front of you. You desperately fight back the tears blurring your vision. 

“Yes, alpha.” 

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[hearts4werka]

My eyes slowly flutter open while the sunlight pools into my and Matthew's shared bedroom through the curtains over the windows as the morning hours strike, glancing at my current surroundings I see the form of sleeping Matthew next to me with his tattoed arm softly draped over my waist. I can't help but stare at his adorable sleeping face for a few minutes, pbserving and taking in his facial features shadowed by the sunlight occupying the space around us in the moment.

Turning my head to lay flat against the soft pillow sitting currently beneath my head, I stare at the ceiling and come up with an idea to prepare breakfast and since Nick and Chris will be arriving later today to visit before they both have to attend to some meetings regarding their brands, I havent been told much yet but hope to get slightly more educated when they do arrive.

I pull the duvet away from my body, ready to exit the bed and start my day but Matthew’s hand that was previously laying down on my waist tightens its grip and subconsciously pulls me closer into his chest, holding me captive as he slowly stirs awake himself and buries his face into my hair as I hear him mumble something into them but I can’t quite make out the words.

“What was that, sleepyhead?” I ask softly, taking my eyes away from the ceiling and now on him, noticing him slowly coming back to consciousness and waking up from his slumber.

“…five more minutes” He repeats more clearly for me to understand him this time in a slight whine, his face still buried in my hair as I notice him inhaling the scent of them in that moment, still remaining half asleep and not fully awake yet.

When the words ‘five more minutes’ in that whiny tone from sleepy Matthew, knowing very well that in his state right now im not getting far with this conversation so I just chuckle under my breath at how clingy he's being and especially in the morning. Accepting my faith I place a soft kiss on his forehead and snuggle further into his chest, giving into his wishes.

“Only five more minutes, after that I gotta get up. Okay?” I clarified, glancing over at him to make sure he understands me but the only answer I receive is a groan of approval. Nodding his head against the top of my head as he softly pulls me impossibly closer into his chest as he can.

“I love you.” I whisper against his chest as I feel a smile growing on his face thats cuddled up into my hair, our bodies melting together as heat radiates off them and transfers them to the other persons skin, making it slightly tingle.

“Love you too.” He muttered as we continued to cuddle up against each other, suddenly I feel a hand starting to tickle me in ticklish places on my body. Out of instinct my body jerks away from the hand, while Matthew giggles under his breath and continuing his tickle assault.

The sudden tickles make me burst out in laughter as I return them, poking at his chest and starting to tickle him as well. Both of us end up as two laughing messes on the bed after only a few minutes passing by, I adore mornings like these with Matthew laughing next to me.

@hearts4werka

authors note: just a random blurb I wrote today in class out of boredom and while writing the drug dealer Chris fic and I might make it like three parts or two bc I’m writing their meeting rn and I don’t want it to be very long since the first part is already longer that I thought it would be so just say if y’all want it to be two parts of nah, luv y’all so much

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[cashmoneyyysstuff]

deep breath in, deep breath out.

your eyelashes flutter, your eyes move around under your eyelids.

your chest expands, then drops again.

and repeat.

tomura wonders when the last time he’s been this close to somehow before was.

he also wonders how long you’ll let him do this.

tomura shigaraki has, what you call, the nasty habit of being a night owl. it usually wouldn’t be that much of an issue if all he did wasn’t just playing some pc game until ungodly hours of the morning. tomura was awake when you went to sleep and was awake when you woke up too.

he’s unfortunately so very stubborn, so he always insists that he’s not tired at all and that he could at the very least just get a nap in later.

but he was also very picky and sensitive, he didn’t like napping on the couch because he couldn’t find the right way to position his neck, or the light of the outside world would prevent sleep from consuming him, and he moves around a lot so he can never get comfortable and then he gets moody and bitchy and annoying and everyone is just trying to piss him off today. you’ve seen him almost lose his mind because on one of those days he’d gotten his shirt stuck on the door handle. and you don’t want to see that again.

the reason he’d be up so late was because of his insane competitiveness, it only took one nasty comment picked up through his headphones to send him spiraling, just having to prove to the world and the people behind his computer screen he was better than them.

you’d been able to find a sort of compromise lately. because sometimes he woke you up raging and you did not want the both of you to end up moody and bitchy in the morning. so you somehow convinced him to get into less violent games, sandboxes and such. right now it seemed he was really into puzzle games.

and it started working out well for you. it was a good plan, tomura could give you that. the soundtracks in the games he played usually managed to calm him some, and actually start to make his eyes droop and the urge to sleep started to seep in.

but sleep never came.

he managed to finish some games at an okay-ish hour. some he’d just leave for tomorrow if he got bored, and he go try to lay down with you and close his eyes. but he just couldn’t sleep.

thought it shouldn’t be all that surprising, now that he thinks back on it. he’d probably completely fucked up what was even remotely left of a sleep schedule. completely fucked it over in the ass and chucked it off a cliff.

now he’s irritated, tired and so bored.

until he realized something.

you drool in your sleep.

it’s something he wouldn’t have realized if he were at his pc, nor if he’d fallen asleep earlier. he thinks about that for a minute, then focuses back on you. he reaches forward and wipes at the small trail with a single finger, careful not to wake you.

you’d probably call him gross for it, but he doesn’t care. you should thank him for saving you the embarrassment of waking up with a pool of drool on your pillow.

and so, tomura developed another nasty little habit.

whenever he was unable to sleep, which was 98% of the time, he’d just watch you do it. as cheesy as it sounded he always gets this weird feeling whenever he does, like he’d slept too. it felt like he was sleeping with you in a weird, weird way.

and he could admit you were interesting to watch. you weren’t doing anything interesting , but he thinks a sick, twisted part of him enjoyed seeing you so vulnerable, so unaware of the eyes on you, so clueless once you wake up and you have no idea that you make noises and chew while you sleep.

another part of him wonders what is is you dream about. it watches and analyze how your breaths pick up and relax again, how you shuffle or snuggle more into your blanket and pillows.

it wonders if you ever dream about him, but that he’ll never admit, because that was pathetic.

another part of him thinks you just look cute while you sleep. the way he can catch your eyebrow twitch occasionally if he pays extra close attention, and one time he even heard what sounded like a mumble of his name on your lips. and it felt rewarding. would you do it again if he kept doing this ?

he wonders what you’ll do if you woke up to see him doing this. would you be scared ? embarrassed ? angry ? disgusted ? would you hate him ? you’d have to see how much of a creep he was then, wouldn’t you ?

or maybe you’d laugh, maybe you’d jokingly call him a freak for watching you sleep, maybe you’d somehow make him feel embarrassed about it in that weird way you do.

he likes not to think about that much though. not because it was completely unrealistic, but because it wasn’t completely off the table either, and that just made him feel sick. guilty.

for now, he’ll just keep watching you. if you complain about him being moody then you’ll just have to deal with this. you’ll snuggle into him when you find him in bed with you, conveniently already awake because he was such an early riser. you’d kiss his cheek first thing in the morning and smile lazily at him “how’d you sleep ?” you’ll ask.

“good.” he’ll reply.

[aritsukemo]

I don’t know if your requests are open, but I simply love your writing! May I have a Zhongli/Venti/Xiao Prompt with a reader who’s secretly a god from another world?

Finding out you're secretly a god | Genshin Impact

( @scar8o )

Summary: After your powers are revealed in a heat of the moment decision, you and your partner have a much needed conversation..

Characters: Xiao, Zhongli, and Venti

Warnings: Nothing much. Mentions of reader facing discrimination in Xiao's and slight tears towards the end of Xiao's as well.

A/N: AGHHHH this took months to finally write, but I'm glad I finally got the push I needed to finish this! I'm sorry you had to wait so long and I hope you enjoy this little collection of drabbles I put together! :D

A yellowish-orange shade was cast over Teyvat just like it would any other evening. Nothing had changed; the wind was still blowing, wildlife was as and as wild as ever, and the grass was still the same old greenish tinge.

Well, today, Xiao supposes that something has changed. For the first time in years, there was complete silence between you two. Being the chatterbox that you were, it was never like this since you're always rambling on about whatever popped into your head—whether that'd be how your day went, what you should do tommorow, or even the most trivial things like which colored cloth you should use to wipe off your weapons.

But that particular evening, you didn't utter a word. You simply sat there, knees to your chest as you gazed at the sun slowly setting upon the horizon. It felt odd for Xiao—awkward if he were to be so mundane. At the same time, he had no way of relieving this odd, awkward tension from the air. He had so many question stirring in his head that could at least fill the air with something of substance, and yet, he felt hesitant to voice any of them.

But he has to say something. If he doesn't, he fears that he'll never get his questions answered. So, without looking your way, he asks, "Who..are you really?"

You don't answer immediately and for a moment, Xiao thought you didn't hear him at all. Before he can repeat himself, however, he hears your voice, low and uncharacteristically sullen as you tell him, "Someone who doesn't belong here.."

He doesn't realize it, but upon hearing your response and looking over at you, his eyes softened—and just like the snow he used to munch down to prevent himself from starving to death, his golden hues glistened in the light of the setting sun. He didn't know what to say to that. Or rather, he couldn't think of anything to say that would be comforting to your ears.

That's one the things about you that he's fond of, but is also envious of. You always knew the right thing to say even when he thought you didn't. It's one of his favorite things about you..

"Look, I'm sorry for lying to you for so long.." You said before heaving a long, tired sigh. One that sounded as if you've been holding it for ages, "In my own world, people despised me and this power so much so that they tried everything they could to make my life miserable.."

"Adults, kids, girls, boys, women, and men.. Even when they were more different than the glaxies above, the one thing that was always the same was the way they looked at me.. That deep swirl of hatred in their eyes as they stared at me..like I was some kind of monster.. No matter what I did for them, it never changed," Xiao chooses to ignore the way your voice cracks midway through your sentence—the signal that the glass dam inside you was beginning to crack..

"When I got here, I saw this as my brethren relieving me of that pain..like a fresh start. I was so happy..and so, so scared. I was terrified of the past happening again so I swore to do everything in my power to keep that part of me hidden for as long as I was able.."

At this point, he could see those crystal tears rolling down your face, the translucent trail they left glimmering in the sun's glow. He's never seen them before. You never allowed him to and now, he's grateful that you never did because the sight of you crying made his chest feel heavy and empty, causing it to ache. The sight was painful. It felt wrong associating this feeling with something so..human, but it's the only thing to describe this black hole forming where his heart's supposed to be..

And in attempt to fill that feeling, he finally asks, "Do you think this power of yours will bring harm to the people of Liyue?" You finally glance at him, confusion written all over that tear-stricken face of yours. He merely looks at you with expectancy, so you eventually croak out a small, "No.."

"Do you ever think that you'll try to take over Liyue and force it's people under your thumb?" He threw another question at you, and this time, you answered quickly, blurting out an offended sounding, "Of course not! Do you think I would?"

"No," He answered immediately, "But as the protector of this land, I had to make sure we were on the same page before I said anything else," And he gets up. Your crystalized eyes follow after him, confusion beginning to swirl along with a headache—the result caused by your near-breakdown just now.

"Wha.." You begin, but your voice dies in your throat as he offers you a hand and looks you in the eyes like he would any other day—as if everything was normal.

"You said before that after all of this was over, you'd drag me off somewhere to 'wind down', didn't you? Well, I'm allowing you this once to do so without having any resistance on my end," He clarifies, and that's when it finally clicks in your mind; nothing has changed. The world is still spinning, the once clear, orange sky has turned blue and starry. Xiao is still willing to reach out to you, still willing to stare at you with adoration and love, and be around you. He still sees you as simply Y/n.

And you find yourself brought to tears all over again. Yet this time, it's due to sheer relief instead of anxiety and agony. It's because of the happiness you feel as you reach out your hand and let yourself be helped up like some damsel..

..And it's all becase of Xiao, who's kind enough to see you as something other than a monster. Something lesser than a divine god or goddess, but as simply another person of the land who he should protect.

"So when did you figure it out?" You asked to the man who sat across from you at the table—although to others it seemed as though you were talking to your tea from how your eyes were trained on it the entire time you spoke, pupils following every ripple it made with every slight of your hand.

The man across from you—who you've called many endearments over the years of knowing him—simply hummed at your question, taking the time to grab his own tea cup before answering just as casually, "Some time ago. I've had some theories of my own for a while now, but..outside assistance helped to point me in the right direction."

"So the traveler told you," You stated, your tone leaving no room for him to lie or say otherwise—a silent testament that it was futile to try and deny something you already seen as a fact, but he attempted anyways.

"Not exactly," He said, "It was a slip of the tongue on Paimon's part, a small one at that, I barely noticed it myself." And this time, you hum, closing your eyes as you at last take a sip of your tea—which has long since gotten cold since it arrived at your table.

You take a long, slow sip, as if you were buying time, or maybe, simply trying to collect all the thoughts swirling in your head and condense them in a coherent, civil sentence. Whatever it is, Zhongli allows you that time and patiently waits for you to finally set your cup down again..

"So? What do you plan to do with me now that you know?" The question comes off blunt—slightly threatening to the unintelligent ears, but it doesn't phase Zhongli. After all, he knows that you weren't threatening him, but more rather felt threatened. Similar to a cornered bunny who's only defense weapons are its fluffy, dull nubs.

"Nothing at all," He says, and at last your eyes cross the table to look him in the eyes. He does the same, granting you the same favor.

There's a moment of silence between you two in that moment. You silently demand an answer to his previous answer and the light thrumming of your fingers against the smooth, expensive wood gave away your impatience, your growing anxiety, and most importantly your fear. It's a discomforting sight to see of his usually calm lover, and so, he's quicker to respond to you in hopes of relieving your tension.

"You hold me in such high regard, dear. And while I'm flatter, may I remind you that I'm simply a consultant. I have no power to do anything other than grant you a comfortable resting place to lay your head when you pass," He closes his eyes, breaking eye contact with you to bless you with a small, polite smile, "A question like that would be more fit for the Tianquan, would it not?"

"In my humble opinion, though, I think it best if you didn't stir a pot that has already settled. Going to Lady Ningguang over something she knows nothing about is not needed, don't you agree?"

He opens his eyes again to look at you, only having the luxury to catch the tail end of your reaction to him deciding to sweep this under the rug before your expression smoothens out and a smile eases onto your face and your fingers move to lace around your cup once again..

"I suppose you're right. Forget I said anything then."

"Who knew my windblume could be even more extraordinary than I once thought?" He told you under that massive oak tree—The Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero—after sneaking away with you, who was just praised the entire evening for your heroic deeds.

"You flatter me," You said before letting out a chuckle. Venti chose not to comment on how it sounded drier than how the fruits up in Celestia look, "Really, I don't deserve such praise.."

"On the contrary! You were Mondstadt's savior today! Not to mention mines!" He said cheerily, "If it weren't for you, Mondstadt would've been robbed of this bard's melodious melodies!"

You found yourself huffing at the absurdity of his words before you can stop yourself. Making up for the slip-up with a half-hearted, agreeing hum.

"You're a fool.. Having a dangerous being such as myself leisurely lay on you like this.." You whisper into his thigh as you turn on your side, your voice muffling due to half of your face being smothered by the puff of his shorts. Your comment was heard nonetheless and earned a chuckle from the bard.

"Love makes one do foolish things," He simply replies, before you feel something cold and smooth against your cheek. Your eyes flutter open and out of the corner of your eyes you see the familar red hue that you would only see plastered on one of the delicious treats the Cuihua Trees so graciously gift Teyvat.

You take the apple from his grasp, once again laying flat on your back as you hold the apple above you as if to tantalize yourself.

"I'm serious. You shouldn't be this nice to me anymore, Barbatos," Another slip of the tongue—one promptly ignored and immediately pushed to back of both of your minds, "I'm nothing but a weapon of destruction."

"That you may have been in the past, but as of now, you're simply a bartender at Angel's Share who's fallen head over heels for a skillful bard; me," He replies after swallowing the chewed, sweet chunks in his mouth that came from his apple—which has already been half-eaten at this point.

And you find yourself huffing again. This time at the realization that he was right—at least the part about being hopelessly in love with him anyways..

"You had a long day, so why not you rest after you eat? I'll strum you a gentle tune that'll carry you away to pleasant dreams, ehehe~!" He suddenly suggest—an obvious attempt at deading the conversation where it stands before you say something too depressing to brush off easily. You pretend to not notice, deciding to accept your defeat for now, as you nod, finally bringing the apple down to your lips and taking a bite, being careful to chew the bite thoroughly before swallowing..

"That sounds nice.. Maybe resting my eyes wouldn't be so bad."

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[thinkinginpen]

Unexpected Company Part 2

a/n: It may not be the holidays yet but who doesn't love some good Christmas spirit in the fall? And two in one hour? Damn. pairing: old!logan x reader w/c: 3.6k warnings: romance, hinting, love, fake dating, age gap, etc. summary: You went to Logan's house, your grumpy old neighbor, to bring him cookies and get away from the Christmas party. Little did you know this grumpy old man would take a turn. Next thing you knew he was lecturing your ex on how to treat a girl right.

You reluctantly followed your ex as he led you away from the others. He steered you to a quiet corner of the room, out of earshot of the rest of the party. His expression was cold and unforgiving.

"What the hell is going on here?" he hissed.

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning ignorance. You knew what he was talking about, but playing dumb seemed like your best bet at this point.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he snapped. "You show up with some old dude in tow and act like he's your boyfriend? Don't try to play dumb with me, I know it's bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit," you said defensively. "He really is my boyfriend."

Your ex rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you're dating some old geezer?"

"Yes, I do," you retorted. "What, are you jealous or something?"

He sneered, clearly unconvinced. "Jealous? Of a fossil? Fat chance. No, I just want to know what kind of game you're playing here."

You gritted your teeth, frustrated by his tone. "I'm not playing any game. I'm dating him, and that's it."

He let out a hollow laugh. "Okay, fine. Say I believe you. How did that even happen? How'd you end up with some old man instead of me?"

You hesitated, not sure how to answer that. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him the truth - that the only reason you were pretending to be in a relationship with Logan was to get under his skin.

You took a deep breath and decided to stick with the same cover story you'd used earlier. "It just happened, I guess. We clicked."

He snorted, still not buying it. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you just randomly met this guy and started dating him? I don't buy it."

Your frustration was growing. How dare he question the validity of your relationship, even if he was right?

"Believe whatever you want," you said, crossing your arms. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm dating him, and he's better than you in every way."

Your ex's expression darkened at your words, his fists clenching. "Oh, so now you're gonna pull that crap? You honestly think this guy is better than me?"

He stepped closer to you, looming over you. "You're really gonna choose an old man over me?"

You didn't back down, meeting his angry gaze defiantly. "Yes, I am. He's more mature than you, and treats me a lot better."

Your ex scoffed. "Yeah, maybe because he's been alive longer than my grandparents. You think he'll be able to keep up with you in a couple years?"

"Better than you can," you shot back. "At least he's still active. He works out, he can do stuff. What've you been doing every day since we broke up? Playing video games and eating pizza rolls?"

He bristled, clearly insulted. "That's not all I do!"

"Oh really? What else do you do?" you asked, feigning curiosity. "I mean, you spend a lot of time on the couch. I'm sure you got up from there at some point."

He clenched his jaw, clearly getting more and more frustrated. "That's not the point!" he snapped. "The point is that there's no way you're really dating this old dude. You're just trying to make me jealous, right? That's it, isn't it?"

You felt a flicker of satisfaction as he grew more agitated. "No, I'm really dating him."

He gritted his teeth. "No way. Prove it."

"Prove it?" you repeated, surprised by the request. "How am I supposed to prove it to you?"

Your ex rolled his eyes. "I don't know, kiss him or something."

You nearly choked at the sudden request. "Wh-what? You want me to kiss him? Right here, in front of everyone?"

"Why not?" he sneered. "If you're really dating him, it should be easy, right?"

You felt a pang of panic mixed with irritation as he challenged you. You glanced over at Logan, who was still standing calmly across the room, mingling with other people at the party.

Your ex chuckled, noticing your hesitation. "See, you can't do it. You're bluffing, and you know it. You're just using this old guy as a prop to make me jealous, and I'm not falling for it."

You gritted your teeth, feeling a wave of anger and determination wash over you. He was right about one thing - you weren't really dating Logan, at least not in the way he meant. But the way he was demeaning Logan… no matter his age, he deserved better than that.

Logan was listening intently to a conversation with one of the nearby families when he suddenly heard the heated argument between you and your ex. His eyebrows rose, and he subtly moved to listen in.

He was surprised to hear your ex tell you to prove your relationship, but his expression darkened as he heard the other man's mocking tone.

He quickly made his way over to the pair of you, his expression stormy. As he got closer, he made himself known by grabbing your ex by the front of his shirt.

Your ex was suddenly yanked backwards, his shirt crumpling as Logan's fist closed tightly around a fistful of fabric.

He sputtered as he lost his balance, staring up at the much larger man in shock. "What the hell-"

Logan towered over him, leaning down to speak directly in his face. His tone was low and dangerous.

"I'm only going to say this once, boy. Leave the girl alone."

Your ex's expression flickered from surprise to anger. "Excuse me? You can't just-"

But before he could finish, Logan pulled him closer, his grip still tight on his shirt.

"I can do whatever I damn well please," he growled. "And right now, what I'm doing is telling you to leave her alone. Understand?"

Your ex floundered, clearly stunned by the unexpected intervention. But he wasn't cowed, and he tried to pull away from Logan's grip.

"And who are you, her guardian or something?" he snapped. "You got no right to tell me what to do, old man. You don't love her-"

Logan's expression darkened further. He had clearly heard enough.

"I don't love her, huh?" he said gruffly.

Before your ex could react, he tightened his grip on his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall, pinning him there with one arm.

Your ex's eyes widened in shock and fear as he found himself slammed against the wall. The wall shook from the impact, and several people nearby turned to see what was going on.

Logan leaned in closer, his face mere inches from your ex's. "You little bastard," he growled. "You don't have any idea what it means to love her."

Your ex tried to struggle, but Logan's hold on him was too strong. He was trapped, completely at the mercy of the older man's grip.

"Let- let go of me!" he gasped, his bravado faded as he stared up at Logan's angry face.

Logan's expression was stony, his eyes boring into your ex's. "Not until I'm done talking to you," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his tone low and dangerous. "You think just because you're young that you know better than anyone else? You think you know her better than I do?"

Your ex was visibly shaken, his cocky demeanor gone in the face of Logan's angry glare.

"I- I do know her better than you," he protested weakly. "I was dating her before you came around."

"Yeah, you were," Logan said gruffly. "And you blew it. Now she's with me, and you need to learn to live with that."

He paused, then suddenly pulled your ex closer, his face a mere inch away. "You're never going to touch her again, boy. Not as long as I'm around."

Your ex's expression wavered, caught between fear and anger.

"You can't just-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a glare.

"Dare me," he said gruffly. "Go on, boy. Say what you were gonna say."

Your ex swallowed, clearly intimidated. He tried to pull away from Logan, but he was still pinned in place. After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke up.

"You can't just take her away from me," he muttered resentfully. "She was mine first."

"You don't own her, boy," Logan snapped, his voice hard as steel. "She's not something you can just claim like a damn trophy. She's her own damn person, and she can make her own damn decisions."

He leaned in closer, his face almost touching your ex's. "And she made the decision to ditch your sorry ass for me."

Your ex's expression darkened at the insult. "And why would she choose some old guy like you?" he shot back, his tone bitter. "What can you give her that I can't?"

Logan's glare hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I can give her a hell of a lot more than you ever did," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low growl. "I can give her stability, and respect, and loyalty. Things that you clearly didn't know how to provide."

Your ex tried again to struggle, but he was still trapped in Logan's grip. His expression darkened even further as he spat back.

"What, you think you're some kind of saint, just because you're older? You don't know me. You don't know what I can do for her."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," Logan said. "And from what I can tell, you're a damn coward who couldn't even keep her happy when you had the chance."

He leaned in so close that his chest was practically pressed against your ex's. "And you think for a second that you could do better than me?"

Your ex was clearly flustered, his expression torn between anger and fear.

"I- I could give her-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a scoff.

"Yeah? What, like you could give her a future? What's your plan for the future? Keep working a minimum wage job and play video games in your mom's basement all day?"

Logan chuckled, but he was seething.

"You wanna know what it's like to treat a girl right? First rule: You take care of her. I don't just mean buy her gifts and open doors for her. I mean really take care of her. Be there for her, listen to her, show her respect and loyalty and all the other things you seem to be completely incapable of."

He looked your ex over, his expression still disapproving. "Rule two: don't act like a damn child. Don't throw temper tantrums every time something doesn't go your way, don't blame her for your problems. Have some damn respect and act like you're actually worthy of her."

Logan's expression darkened further. "And rule three: Be a damn man. Don't let the people around you walk all over you, don't let people who don't matter to you drag you down. And for the love of God, don't try to cheat on her just because you can't keep it in your damn pants."

He leaned in closer, his voice low and fierce. "And if by some chance you've managed to follow all three of those rules, then maybe - MAYBE - you might be worthy of someone like her. But let's be honest, boy. We both know you haven't managed to follow a single one."

Your ex was caught between anger and fear, his expression shifting as Logan listed off the rules for treating a girl right. He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by another scoff from Logan.

"Don't try to deny it, boy. We both know you've failed at all three. You're a damn child, pretending to be a man. And until you grow the hell up, you will never be worthy of a woman like her."

With that, he finally released his hold on your ex. The younger man stumbled backwards, clearly shaken.

Logan glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression softening. "Come here, darling," he said, his tone suddenly gentle.

You approached the pair, your heart racing after witnessing the intense encounter. You could sense your ex's glower as you stepped up next to Logan, who wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

He pulled you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He kept his gaze locked on your ex, his expression still stern.

"He won't be bothering you again, baby," he said gruffly.

Logan led you over to a nearby couch, his arm still around your shoulders. Most of the party seemed to have started minding their own business again, though a few people were still shooting curious glances your way.

He sat down on the couch, pulling you down next to him.

He put his other arm around you so that you were essentially squished between his broad frame and the couch cushions. He could tell that you were still a little shaken up, and he squeezed you gently, trying to reassure you.

"You alright, baby?" he asked gruffly, his voice low so that the other guests couldn't overhear.

"You can stop the act now Mr. Logan."

Logan raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in tone. He continued to hold onto you, but turned to get a better look at your expression.

"What do you mean, hun?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

You could tell that he was playing dumb, probably to save face in front of the other guests. Your expression became a mixture of exhaustion and irritation.

"You know exactly what I mean, Logan," you said. "We can stop. I think we've sold the act enough by now."

Logan's expression softened, and he let out a low chuckle. He glanced around and confirmed that most of the party had gone back to their own conversations.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further. "You sure about that, baby?" he asked, his tone suggestive.

You rolled your eyes, though a slight smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, I'm sure," you reassured him. "I think we've put on enough of a show. No need to keep this going any longer."

He chuckled again, tightening his grip on you. "Well, I don't mind keeping it going a little longer," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "I'm enjoying having you like this."

You sighed, but couldn't help the tingle of heat that ran through you at his words. "Stop it," you said, trying to sound stern despite your growing arousal. "We're in a room full of people, remember?"

Logan chuckled at your protests, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed in his grip.

"C'mon pretty girl, for Christmas' sake please can we keep this going?" he pleaded, his voice low and coaxing.

You fought to keep a straight face, trying not to let his words get to you. But it was difficult, especially with the heat rising in your cheeks.

"I thought the point of this was to make my ex jealous," you reminded him, trying to sound more stern than you felt.

He squeezed you tighter, his expression turning smug. "Yeah, it was," he said, his voice a low rumble. "and we've done a damn good job of that. But now that I've got you all to myself, I'm not ready to let go just yet."

Logan loosened his embrace slightly, allowing you a bit more breathing room.

"Honey," he said, his tone suddenly more polite. "Would you mind grabbing us some food?"

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the unexpected change in tone. But you composed yourself quickly and nodded.

"Sure, I can do that," you said, rising from the couch. "What do you want me to bring back?"

Logan smiled, pleased by your response. "Surprise me," he said. "Oh and how about some of those cookies you and your mother baked?"

You chuckled, amused by his request. "You've got a sweet tooth, huh?" you teased, as you made your way towards the buffet table.

Logan watched you as you walked away, his gaze lingering on your figure. His eyes stayed fixed on you until you disappeared among the crowd, at which point he settled back against the couch, a satisfied smile on his face.

The party continued around him, but his thoughts were focused on you. He couldn't help but feel a stirring of possessiveness. He had played the role of your boyfriend for the evening, and it seemed like he had done a pretty damn good job of it.

As Logan sat on the couch, waiting for you to return, he couldn't help but reflect on how the evening had started. He thought back to just hours earlier when he had been sitting alone, feeling grumpy and wishing he was anywhere else.

Then you had appeared, bringing him a plate of cookies that you had baked yourself. He had been hesitant at first, but the delicious treats had quickly won him over.

He recalled the conversations you had had once you had sat down. He had initially intended to brush you off and get back to his brooding, but he had found that he couldn't bring himself to shoo you away. Instead, he had ended up engaged in a surprisingly enjoyable conversation, and before he knew it, the hour was getting late.

You returned to the couch, your arms laden with food for both of you. You noticed that Logan was deep in thought, and he was visibly startled when you put the food down on the coffee table.

"You spaced out there, old man," you teased, gesturing for him to grab some food.

He chuckled, still slightly disoriented from his musings. "Sorry baby, got lost in thought there," he said, shaking his head.

He perked up when he saw the cookies you had brought back, a smile spreading across his face. "Hey, you remembered."

You chuckled, watching as he eagerly reached for the cookies. "Of course I did," you said, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

"I figured you could use a little comfort food after dealing with my ex," you added, taking a bite of your own food.

Logan grunted in agreement, already stuffing a cookie into his mouth. "Your ex's a damn fool," he said, his voice muffled through the food. "He'll never be good enough for you."

You raised an eyebrow at his assessment. "And you are?" you asked teasingly, poking him in the side.

Logan chuckled, swatting at your hand. "Hey now, watch it. You're gonna make me choke."

He finished his bite of cookie, then turned to look at you dead in the eye. "And to answer your question, hell yes I'd be good enough for you," he said, his tone serious.

You were surprised by his sudden shift in tone, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. You fumbled for a response for a few seconds before finally managing to gather your thoughts.

"You're awfully confident, old man," you said, trying to mask the flutter in your chest.

Logan chuckled at your response, clearly amused by your attempts to hide your reaction to his declaration. He continued to eat his food and the cookies, glancing over at you between bites.

You did the same, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you silently ate.

The room was filled with the sounds of the ongoing party, but the two of you were mostly silent as you ate. Every so often, Logan would steal a glance at you, his eyes fixed on your lips as you chewed.

You glanced over at Logan, noticing a small spot of food stuck in his beard. It was a bit distracting, and you couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"You've got something on your face," you said, reaching over and gently swiping the food from his beard.

Logan froze as your fingers touched his beard, and for a moment the two of you just sat there, frozen in the intimate moment. Your fingers lingered in his beard, tracing the length of it and feeling the coarse texture.

And then, almost against his will, Logan found himself tipping his head closer to yours. His eyes met yours, and his expression darkened with desire.

You became aware of his lips drawing ever closer to yours, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers were still in his beard, as if frozen in place. Your whole world seemed to have narrowed to the two of you in that instant, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration. But then something seemed to snap, and the kiss deepened. Logan reached up to cup your face in his hands, pulling you closer as he claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You found yourself responding eagerly, your fingers tangling in his beard. The kiss was intense, and it felt like the whole world had vanished around you, leaving just the two of you. Your heart raced as his hands held your face in place, his tongue slipping past your lips to deepen the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you got lost in the kiss. His beard tickled your skin, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pulled you even closer. Your hands moved up to his shoulders, gripping the material of his shirt as you kissed deeper.

Logan reluctantly pulled back, breaking the kiss as he sucked in a gulp of air. He was breathing heavily, and his expression was still darkened with desire.

He nodded towards your ex, who was watching and seething from across the room.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Merry Christmas, bubba."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Part 1 Part 2

🏷️: @princessleah94 @littlbitch69

[innerfare]

Angsty Sabo Headcanons 

Summary: A collection of angsty Sabo headcanons

Genre: Angst

CW: None // SFW

———

Sometimes, Sabo can’t stand the sight of his scars, especially the one on his face. It’s actually the reason he has a little skincare routine. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t overcome his early childhood education, which taught him that men like him are such horrible monsters. He thinks he looks like a monster.  

Sometimes when he gets undressed and turns the shower on, he stares in the mirror while he’s waiting for the water to heat up. He ends up focusing on his scars and wondering if he deserves them. A small part of Sabo thinks he does deserve them. Despite fighting to abolish the system that teaches kids they were born wrong and recognizing it is, in fact, the system that is wrong, Sabo just can’t escape the feeling that he was born wrong. 

Sabo didn’t attack Dragon that day because he wanted to take a shot at the strongest guy on the field, he did it because on some level, he sensed something paternal coming from the man, and it made Sabo lash out; he wanted to kill Dragon like Ace wanted to kill Whitebeard.

“I’m sorry he died, but at least he didn’t die in handcuffs.” This is the only thing that Dragon said to Sabo about Ace, and Sabo latched onto it. At least he didn’t die in handcuffs. He repeats the phrase over and over in his head, a mantra he chants internally every day. He keeps hoping it will make him feel better, but it doesn’t. It makes him feel worse to know the best his brother could have hoped for was to die like a man and not a dog; he shouldn’t have died at all. 

Sabo knows Ace died thinking Sabo would be waiting for him on the other side. He tries to comfort himself with the thought that Ace will be waiting for him, but it doesn’t help. It makes him feel selfish to think Ace died first. It should have been me. 

Sabo doesn’t feel good about having cheated death. He feels like a fraud, a phony, a mistake. He feels like he should be dead. And no matter how many battles he fights and wins, no matter how many enemies he defeats, no matter how many adventures he goes on, he can’t escape the feeling he’s wasting his second chance. Ace wouldn’t waste it the way I am, he tells himself. 

Sabo has nightmares about Ace’s death. The worst part about them is that he has no idea if they’re accurate. Is that how it happened? Is that what it looked like? Is that what adult Ace’s voice sounded like? Is that what Luffy’s scream sounded like? He has no fucking clue, and it tears him up inside. 

A doctor gave Sabo some pills to help him sleep dreamlessly through the night, but taking them makes him feel guilty, as if he’s escaping the punishment he rightfully deserves for not saving Ace. 

Sabo hates sleeping alone. He grew so accustomed to sharing with Luffy and Ace, and even after suffering amnesia, never got used to being alone in bed. Sabo will show up at Koala’s door sometimes at two in the morning and ask if he can sleep with her because being alone reinforces the feeling that he somehow abandoned his family.

When he gets his memories back, Sabo starts sending a little bit of money every month to Dadan. He views it as recompense for the pain he’s certain he caused her by not protecting the boy she raised from the cradle. He won’t go visit her because he’s terrified she’ll scorn him for Ace’s death and turn him away from her doorstep. 

Sabo has a page at the back of his journal where he writes down all the jokes he thinks would make Ace laugh, in addition to other things he wishes he could tell his brother.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[livwritesstuff]

i’ve been sick at home for two days so here have a sick-fic (steddie!dads edition, obv)

It took three weeks from the first day of school for one of Steve and Eddie’s daughters to bring home some strain of elementary school illness – the flu, Steve's pretty sure, though who really knows? Whatever it is, It’s been knocking the family out one by one over the last week. Three-year-old Hazel had been the last man standing for a while, but she woke up this morning with a pretty gnarly cough and no appetite whatsoever, which can mean only one thing:

Random elementary school sickness: 5.

Harrington Family: 0.

So today is a sick day – yet another, because Steve hasn’t been to work all week, same with the girls and school.

Growing up, Steve had liked sick days, when he’d stay home from school and watch TV and eat ice cream on the couch while his mom doted on him all day.

(Then Steve’s dad had an affair and ruined everything, but that’s a whole other thing).

He wants to replicate for his daughters one of very few fond memories he has of his own childhood, so, yeah, the girls have been livin’ large the last few days (as large as three sick little kids can, anyway). They’re piled onto the couch under all kinds of blankets, eating meals of popsicles and toast and crackers, and watching all kinds of junky TV while they doze in and out of sleep.

Steve can admit that having sick kids is not his favorite facet of parenting, but even though he's totally wiped and the house is a wreck, he can't help but find the silver lining anyway because the girls are extra cuddly when they're sick, even nine-year-old Moe who might be nearing the end of the phase in life where she'll allow her dads to cuddle with her, so they've been asking for snuggles and stories, and Steve's fever-brain is running a little slower than usual so he's been taking the time to appreciate how much he loves being a dad, even in the not-so-fun moments.

The older two are sacked out on the couch with Dinosaur Train playing quietly in the background when Eddie decides the brave the real world for a much-needed grocery run. Hazel is awake still, and she wanders after Steve as he attempts to work through the mountain of laundry that has been building up over the last week.

"Wanna help me make dinner?" he asks her as he shoves a final t-shirt into the washing machine.

She shrugs her little shoulders.

"Not hungry," she says.

"Not hungry?" Steve repeats, and he silently curses his childrens’ elementary school for not being as strict as they could be in handling the spread of the flu across its students.

Still, Hazel ends up standing on a chair at the kitchen counter and helping him “cook” (dump three cans of Campbell's into one pot and heat it over the stove – and he won't be taking any criticism on it either, Tracy Baker, who's claiming to still be making homemade meals even though her family's in the exact same boat).

Eddie returns from the store just as Steve is pulling the pot of chicken noodle soup off the burner.

"Bold choice to have the most freshly sick kid help with dinner," Eddie comments, his eyes on Hazel as he sets grocery bags onto the counter.

Steve looks over just in time to see Hazel’s feeble attempt at blowing on the hot, steaming soup turn into a pretty spectacular toddler-cough right into the pot.

“Christ, no wonder we can’t shake this thing,” Eddie continues, looking vaguely impressed.

“Eh, I’ll stick it on the stove for another fifteen. It’ll probably boil off.”

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part five.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

only fluff from here on out who cheered!

summary: you and spencer spend a night together, and talk about making your relationship 'official'.

word count: 2030

a/n: this project has been such a labor of love (and obsession). this is the penultimate part, the finale will be posted on fri 9/27

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Spence POV

You had both decided that watching some movies in bed and eating your favorite takeout was the best way to end this tumultuous, heavy day. Spencer knew you were tired, and he fully anticipated you falling asleep mid-movie. It didn’t happen often, you always tried your best to stay awake or would communicate that you were ready to head to bed.

All the times you had had movie marathons together, you stayed the night. Spencer would always wake up in the morning, his arm wrapped around you and your leg over his. You both tended to gravitate towards each other in the middle of the night, no matter how far apart on the bed you were before bed. He cherished it more than he’d care to admit, and he was hoping for a repeat tonight. He put on an extra long movie knowing you would get bored and fall asleep.

While it was sneaky, he supposed he was allowed to do that now. The emotions were out and in the open, and while you both still needed to discuss what that entailed and where your relationship was going to go, or how it would change, he was selfish at heart. And with the lack of physical touch in these past few weeks, he was begging for an excuse to touch you.

“Y/N?” He nudged you softly, hoping you wouldn’t stir.

You didn’t. 

He turned the TV off, and hit the bedside lamp too. He checked to make sure your phone was plugged in before plugging in his own phone on his side of the bed. While it wasn’t technically ‘his side’ by any means, he was sure you hadn’t had anyone else in your bed. Minus maybe Angela. And it might as well be his side anyway, considering he had had his own charger plugged in on that side for months, and it hadn’t been moved. He also had a backup pair of glasses here, and half your dresser was filled with his clothes. Though mainly that was because you stole so many of his shirts. 

Once he had calmed you down from his intrusion, he had noticed you were already in one of his shirts. An old, tattered Creed shirt he had retired once he bought a new one. You stole it almost immediately. He smiled to himself, finally letting himself relax.

He knew the morning would entail a long and emotional conversation, but for now he was going to give into his selfish ways, and hold you tight to him while you slept. Hopefully you wouldn’t mind if he was still here in the morning.

He set an alarm for 10am, kissed the top of your head, featherlight, and drifted off to sleep himself.

//

Reader POV

You woke up naturally, no alarm blaring or construction starting. You took your time fully opening your eyes, the sunlight hitting your face a little too hard for your liking. You hadn’t closed the curtains last night before bed, something you’re usually pretty good about. Hmm. A noise to your left startled you slightly. That’s when you took note of your extremities. You were wrapped up in Spencer’s legs, the covers haphazardly thrown across the two of you. The noise was simply him shuffling, but you had fallen asleep so suddenly last night you hadn’t realized he had stayed.

But, the realization made you quite happy. Your heart started to pick up its pace again, and you willed it into normalcy. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it. But how could you ask your heart to act normal when you weren’t sure what normal was anymore? Everything was changing. And that was fucking scary. Change is hard, change is painful, but it’s happening. Constantly. Besides, this was good change, right? The kind you had wanted for so long now? Why harp on the fact that it’s change and not harp on the fact that you were finally going to be with your soulmate? You decided to just enjoy this moment, instead of letting it fester deep inside and drive you crazy. 

Spencer’s curls had gotten all messy in his sleep. You knew that happened, you had stayed the night with him more times than anyone else in your life. This wasn’t the first time you had woken up together, your limbs woven tighter than you thought possible, drool drying on the corner of one or both of your mouths because you both slept better when you slept next to each other. You almost always woke up first, and you were thankful for that. It gave you time to stare at Spencer openly. Sometimes you pretended to be asleep when he started waking, so you could hear him whisper sweet things to you while you ‘slept’.

You hadn’t been able to look at him like this in so long, and you took advantage of it. You pushed his brown curls out of his eyes, your touch as light as you could manage, not wanting to wake him prematurely. But Spencer lay dormant, hands under his head as he faced you. His chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm, clearly at peace. Trailing your finger along his shoulder, then torso and hips, you ran the length of his body. Then you brought your eyes back up to his face, hoping the sun was hitting him just right and giving him that beautiful morning glow. And it was, but his green eyes were shining down at you now. “Hi,” he whispered. His face was lit up, a toothy smile and glittering eyes, the sun draping over him and painting him in gorgeous gold.

His hand reached for yours, a Midas touch. A warmth unmatched blossomed in your chest, spreading and filling every atom of your existence. You felt like liquid gold, and your eyes filled with tears, unprompted. You gave in and let them spill over. Spencer pulled you close, tears spilling from his eyes as well. At least you both knew they were happy tears this time.

You lay in his arms for some time. No words, no more tears, just the sound of both of your hearts beating in tune. The moment was ruined by Spencer’s alarm. 

“Jesus, sorry, I forgot to turn that off.” Spencer rolled over, hitting the ‘stop’ button. He grabbed your hand again, “I was a little distracted.”

“Whatever by?” You cocked your head, feigning innocence.

Spencer leaned in close, and the air was ripped from your lungs. “By my partner. If you’ll have me, anyway?”

He glanced to your lips, and you had to force your lungs to start working again. “Only if you’ll have me, too.” You closed the minimal distance between your lips, doing your best to remain calm.

It was soft, chaste, and everything you had been fantasizing about for six goddamn years. It didn’t last too long, it wasn’t too hot and heavy right off the bat. It was Spencer. And it was perfect. Of course it was.

You pulled back, noting Spencer’s blown pupils. “I probably should have asked before I did that. Sorry.” 

“Consent is important but I promise I am not complaining, Peach.” He leaned in again, smiling. “You can do it again, if you want.”

How wonderful it was to be able to laugh while kissing someone. This couldn’t be considered a make-out session by any means, it was much too silly. That’s to be expected of you and Spencer, though, isn’t it?

He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you. It wasn’t always the right angle, what with the amount of laughing and smiling you were both doing, but it was still perfect to you. You let Spencer’s hands wander over you, and he kept asking if it was okay when he reached a new area. Your arms, your torso, your legs. He didn’t come too high up your thigh, and he never reached around to your ass. Ever the gentleman, Spencer Agnew was.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass, baby, really,” Spencer breathed, his lips on your neck. You shuddered at the new nickname, wanting to hear it again. “We could have been doing this for years, huh?” You could only nod in response. He pulled back, putting a minute amount of space between you. Far enough that you weren’t touching all over, but close enough that he was still very much in your bubble. You loved it. Especially because he knew exactly what you wanted, often without you needing to voice it.

“Y/N, I love you so much,” he started, “And I’m pissed we lost so much time, really, and I can’t apologize enough for making you wait.” He laced your fingers together, rubbing circles into your hand, just like you did for him yesterday. “But I also don’t want to rush this. We might have been in love with each other for years, at least I have, but this is still a new relationship, you know?” 

You started tearing up again, but only because you were enamored with Spencer’s thoughtfulness and vulnerability. “Good tears,” you laughed, reassuring him. “Thank you, for being so honest with me. I feel the same way, actually.” He kissed the back of your hand, nodding for you to continue. “This,” you gestured between the two of you, “is still us, still our friendship. But the relationship aspect is new, and we should treat it as such, right?”

Spencer nodded, enthusiastic that you were on the same page. “Exactly! I don’t want us to, like, jump right into it just because of the history we have. I want to take you on dates, and buy you flowers, and get to know you all over again. I don’t care how many times you’ve told me about your favorite movie – tell me about it again. Show me your favorite albums again, your favorite TV shows and stand-up specials. I want to discover you all over again.”

The tears were falling in droves at this point, and you were really wondering how you wound up so lucky. “Fucking hell, Spence. Are you trying to kill me?” You wiped your tears on your shirt, laughing. “You’re so fucking perfect. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I love you, babe. Do you want to get some breakfast?”

“Or I could make us breakfast?”

“Fuck yes.”

//

After breakfast you both decided it was time to have the dreaded conversation. ‘Dreaded’ because you both would rather be lazily making out right now and watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, but instead you had to talk about ‘feelings’ and ‘labels’ and ‘hard and soft launches’. God, dating nowadays was so stupid. Especially when you’re dating your best friend of eight years and you’re both entirely unsure where your limits were because for years there were none. None that were spoken anyway.

Spencer wanted to go public immediately, because, according to him “anyone who doesn’t want to show you off is fucking insane”, but you thought it might be better to wait a little while. You don’t have to pull the long con like Court and Shayne, but just having the office and your friends knowing would be good enough until you both settled into this.

“Then we could maybe be annoying and drop little hints on IG or in videos, see who all catches on,” You offered, knowing his mischievous side would absolutely love that.

“So many fans already ship us anyway, it might be fun to drive them a little crazy with it.” Spencer laughed, bright and full of love, and you just could not believe you finally had Spencer to yourself.

Realistically, you had for a few years now, but now it’s real.

The conversation wasn’t as long as you had expected, luckily you were both on the same page about nearly everything. Soulmatism is just like that, you supposed. After about thirty-or-so minutes, you both had worked it all out and decided another lazy day in bed was in order.

You could get used to how easy it was to love Spencer, and how he made you feel even easier to love.

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taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn @lisiliely

[drvirgus]

Colorblind

Baek Ha-rin X Fem! Reader

Description: You just got into Baekyeon highschool. What if Baek Ha-rin developes an obsession with you? Do you want to break the game? Do you fall in love with Ha-rin? What if soo-ji wants your help?

Warnings: Manipulation, Bullying, School violance, kys/kms jokes, Strong language, Insults, Harsh Words, Red flags, Morally grey,

Chapter: Intro (fully written)

Masterlist

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"In school, you're on your own."

My eyes lifted from my phone to my slightly older sister, who was already looking at me with her somewhat monotonous gaze. I raised my eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice now a little quieter. My hand, still holding my phone, dropped onto my lap.

Do-ah sighed softly as she looked at me. "You're on your own if you mess up. I can't help you," she said, licking her lips briefly, avoiding my eyes, and taking a deep breath before looking at me again. "Just don't mess up. Don't trust anyone," she added, her voice lower as she glanced out of the moving car once again. Her lips pressed into a thin line, which only confused me more.

It didn't take long for the chauffeur to stop the car, and Do-ah opened the door. I opened my own door and got out of the car as well. Do-ah looked at me, visibly hesitant. "Be careful," she said before heading into the school. My eyes followed her until I could no longer see her.

An uneasy feeling began to form...

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Sighing, I stared at my phone as I kept walking. It was already the third day at this school, and yet I kept getting lost. This time, I had ended up somewhere I had never seen before. My forehead creased as my eyebrows furrowed. A small scream reached my ears, instantly making me more alert.

My eyebrows raised as I saw the two women. One had a cigarette in her hand, while the other was holding her own hand. Both of them looked at me. If I remembered correctly, one of them was Baek Ha-rin, and the woman whose hair was falling into her face was Myung Ja-eun.

There was silence for a brief moment as my eyes kept darting between the two women. The smell of cigarette smoke hung around us as I took a few steps closer. Ha-rin began to laugh, looking down at Ja-eun. "You got backup?" she asked, blowing cigarette smoke directly into Ja-eun's face.

"N-No. I-I don't know her," Ja-eun stammered quietly, her voice shaky and soft. Her posture was closed off, almost scared. She was still holding her hand.

Ha-rin glanced at me, signaling for me to come closer. Her eyes stayed on me while she allowed Myung Ja-eun to slip away. My gaze followed the taller girl until she was out of sight, and then my attention shifted to Ha-rin, who stepped on my foot.

My eyebrows shot up as I glanced down at her foot on mine, then back up at her. I pulled my foot away, which made her chuckle a little. "Don't worry about the smoking. I won't say anything," I said with a smile. Ha-rin stopped grinning and looked at me. She tilted her head slightly.

"You think I care about that?" she scoffed. My eyes scanned her face as my mouth opened slightly. "You're pretty," I blurted out, which made Ha-rin freeze for a moment. Her forehead creased as she continued to study me. The cigarette in her hand was burning down on its own.

"I'm pretty?" Ha-rin repeated with a small grin. Her body was only inches away from mine. I kept looking at the beautiful woman in front of me and nodded with a smile. "Yeah," I replied honestly, making Ha-rin laugh a little. Her eyes wandered over my face as she began to hum softly.

"You're weird," she whispered, her eyes narrowing as her face came a little closer to mine. She stared directly into my eyes. My own eyes widened even more, and a blush crept up my face, unaware that Ha-rin was just trying to get a closer look, trying to read me.

But my mind was going crazy. All I could see was Ha-rin's face just inches from mine. Those cold, almost crazed, brown eyes. Her pink, somewhat thin but heart-shaped lips, her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her long lashes, her nose, the mole next to her eye, the mole on her nose. I noticed every little detail...

Pretty woman.

Pretty woman.

Pretty woman.

Pretty woman.

Ha-rin grinned as if she could read my thoughts, as if she knew exactly what her proximity was doing to me. Like... my lip began to tremble slightly.

Ha-rin scoffed mockingly and took a small step back. "What do you think about revenge?" she asked suddenly, throwing her cigarette on the ground and crushing it with her shoe. My cheeks were still slightly red as I tilted my head questioningly.

"Answer."

My eyebrows twitched upward. "Not much. I'm more of a 'let it go' person," I replied honestly, which didn't seem to sit well with the woman in front of me. Her eyes narrowed. "What if you can't let it go?" she asked, making me hum softly. My finger tapped thoughtfully on my chin. "I don't know. I've never felt the urge for revenge," I started quietly as I looked at her, a small smile on my face. "How about you focus on something else?" I suggested, tilting my head to the side. "I mean, you can't let it go if all you do is focus on revenge," I added.

Ha-rin stared at me for a while. A grin slowly spread across her face.

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The days passed, and I spent most of my time with Ha-rin. A smile spread across my face as the rather friendly woman sat down beside me and rested her head on my shoulder. Her hand, as if naturally, settled on my thigh. "What's wrong? Tired?" I asked, slightly concerned. "Do you want a coffee? I could order one," I added as Ha-rin lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me with a smile. However, her hand didn't move from my thigh.

"It's fine. Or do you want a coffee?" she asked, making me hum softly. A smile appeared on my face. "Only if you want one," I replied, which made Ha-rin chuckle a bit while rolling her eyes at the same time. I laughed a little and playfully slapped her arm, only to be met with shocked gasps around us.

Before I could ask anything or even turn around, chairs went flying to the floor. My eyes widened as I saw Kim Da-yeon planting her foot directly into the stomach of a fallen Myung Ja-eun, kicking her over and over again. Koo Seol-ha and Bang Woo-yi just laughed in the background, while everyone else looked away.

"Do you like that, you bitch? You filthy little slut? That's what you get for trying to avoid me, you whore," Da-yeon taunted, laughing as she continued to kick Ja-eun, who was desperately trying to shield herself with her arms.

In shock, I stood up. "Stop that!" I shouted, quickly making my way to the back of the classroom. Da-yeon turned to me, a manic grin on her face as she stared at me with wide eyes. "What do you want?" she sneered. "Shut up before I beat you too," Woo-yi chimed in. "It wouldn't even be against the rules since she's rankless," Woo-yi added with a mocking laugh.

Rankless?

"If you don't stop, I'm reporting this," I said more seriously now, my jaw tense as I glared at Da-yeon. I had a feeling she was the leader of their little bullying clique.

I gasped as Da-yeon suddenly grabbed me by the collar, raising her fist in the air. "You dirty littl—"

"Da-yeon," came Ha-rin's calm voice. Her eyes were locked intensely on Da-yeon. "That's against the rules," Do-ah added, her lips pressed tightly together as she gripped the book in her hand a little harder. Da-yeon hissed before shoving me away and sitting down at her desk like a sulking child, arms crossed.

Immediately, I rushed to Ja-eun, my face filled with concern as I helped her up and looked over her injuries.

How could someone do this? And right here in the classroom?

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Now I understood...

My eyes widened as Do-ah stood in front of the class, everyone visibly tense. Do-ah drew a pyramid on the board and made sure I downloaded an app called "Pyramid Game." Apparently, there were four levels ranging from A to D, determined by votes. Each person had five votes, but you couldn't vote for anyone more than once, and you couldn't vote for yourself. Those in Rank A had certain privileges, and those in the lower ranks were not allowed to oppose those in Rank A.

But there was also the lowest rank—Rank F. That had always been Ja-eun, since she never participated in the game. My eyes narrowed slightly, but Ha-rin nudged me from beside me. "Don't worry. I'm sure you won't end up in Rank F," she whispered softly, flashing her usual friendly smile.

And she was right...

My eyes widened as I looked at the A rank displayed on my phone. My mouth hung open slightly as I glanced at Ha-rin, then back at my phone. A smile spread across my face. "See? I told you," Ha-rin said with a smirk, placing her hand on my knee and giving it a squeeze. But my smile faded when I saw Ja-eun's name marked with the F rank again.

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Weeks passed, and I did everything I could to stop Da-yeon from continuing to bully and harass Ja-eun. Fortunately, I was often there when Da-yeon tried something. We even got a new student named Sung Soo-ji. She seemed to get along well with most of the class, although she kept her distance from Ja-eun.

But...

This shocked me more than anything.

My eyes widened in disbelief as I rushed toward Ha-rin, who had just pressed her cigarette into Ja-eun's hand, forcing a small scream out of the taller girl. With my mouth agape, I grabbed Ha-rin's wrist and immediately sent Ja-eun away. Ha-rin's eyes narrowed as she glared at me.

"Are you out of your mind?" I asked, louder and angrier than usual. I noticed Ha-rin glance at her wrist briefly before locking eyes with me. "What?" she responded indifferently. My eyes widened even more, and I released her wrist. My arm fell limp at my side.

"What?" I repeated, exasperated, letting out a frustrated breath. My brow furrowed. "You... you're just like Da-yeon," I said softly, disappointment and a strange sadness creeping into my voice.

Ha-rin rolled her eyes. "She deserves it. You don't know what she did to me," she hissed, her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. There was so much... hatred in her voice.

I shook my head. "Stop it, Ha-rin," I said quietly, almost pleading as I stepped closer. My hands instinctively reached for hers. "Please... stop."

Ha-rin scoffed. "Just because you don't like it? Who do you think you are?" she asked, her eyes fixed on me, her jaw visibly clenched.

"I thought I was your friend... apparently, I wasn't," I said, visibly hurt, my eyes fixed on our joined hands as I took a deep breath. I let go of her hands and turned away, ready to walk off.

"Don't move, or you'll end up in F."

My eyebrows shot up as I turned back to Ha-rin. "Then you'll end up just like Ja-eun," she added, a triumphant smirk forming on her lips as she saw me hesitate. I did hesitate, but only because I couldn't believe she'd actually said that.

I stared at Ha-rin, shaking my head in disappointment, before walking away.

"You'll regret this," she called after me.

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And she was right.

I ended up in F...

Just like Soo-ji and Ja-eun.

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Taglist: @yuyuy90@sixflame438@saysirhc@illithharmony@somedaydream@gayforalll@le3-r1n@yncoreee@wonyoungssi @awgeezwrld @peranoo

[myymi]

Sonic is twelve years old the first time Tails falls asleep on him. Over the months that the two of them have been traveling together Tails has fallen asleep next to him many times. Some nights he had darker dreams and would end up quietly shuffling his sleeping bag close to the hedgehog's, claiming that it was in the exact same spot it had always been in when Sonic would raise a brow at the proximity after waking up. Some days the sun would be just warm enough that the kid couldn't help but curl up in the soft grass after they stop for a quick water break, his tails wrapping around his small body as he snuck in a quick power nap.

But in all those instances never once had Tails actually slept on him. He kept close, but never dared to rest on top of the hedgehog for reasons the hero didn't quite understand then. They had stopped at the hotel in town for the first time in a while, having enough money to check into a one bed room on the ground floor. Tails thought that it was luck that it happened to be the same night there was supposed to be a storm, but Sonic had planned for that. He wouldn't usually buy a room just to get out of a storm, but the kid was tired and Sonic would rather not make him wait out a storm in an open cave where the sound of the booming thunder was amplified rather than muffled by protective walls. As Tails hopped onto the bed after they'd entered the room, Sonic made a beeline for the thick, dark blue curtains and tugged them closed. He's found that the darker the curtains the better they are at keeping the flash of lightning from assaulting their eyes. It keeps the room darker in the mornings as well, which the little kit seems to appreciate, even if he never voices at that. Sonic was rummaging through the backpack when he heard a squeaky yawn, followed by a quiet grunt as Tails fell back against the bed. He kicked his shoes off, not caring about where they landed before wiggling his way underneath the covers. The hedgehog couldn't help but smile as he shook his head, pulling out two of their water bottles to set inside the fridge so they could have something cold to drink in the morning. Leaving the backpack on the desk, he walked up to the bed and poked at the lump underneath the covers. Tails hummed before he peeked his head out, sleepy blue eyes halfway covered by his eyelids as he stared up at the hedgehog, waiting for him to tell him why he was bothering him. Sonic smiled as he made a 'c' with his paw, placing it at the top of his stomach before dragging it down. 'Hungry?' Tails bit his lip as he considered it. He would normally wave it off, but some hotels had free food. It was usually just breakfast, but if Sonic was popular enough in the zone then they'd receive free dinner too. As he thought on it, he vaguely remembered the front desk person did offer them dinner. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, "Free?"

Sonic frowned at the question, but he did nod. He repeated the sign for hungry, reminding the cub he was waiting on an answer. Tails nodded as he climbed off the bed, not bothering to put on his shoes as he followed Sonic out of their room. He covered his mouth as he let out another yawn, his other paw reaching out to grab hold of the hedgehog's to make sure he wouldn't fall behind. The hero responded by gently squeezing the smaller paw as he led them to the eating area. As the voices from other hotel guests steadily grew louder, Tails pressed closer the Sonic's side. When they finally entered the dining room, his tails twirled around each other before clinging against his leg. Sonic gently patted his head when he noticed, quickly bringing him to the small buffet. Tails was too small to be able to see all the options, so the hedgehog handed him a menu instead. When the kit pointed at something on the menu he wanted, Sonic left to quickly pile on a generous portion of it. Usually he'd feel bad about it, but he'd rather the kid get enough to eat. Besides, these places always ha extra food when the night was over. Tails was too small to be able to see all the options without flying, so the hedgehog handed him a menu instead. When the kit pointed at something on the menu he wanted, Sonic left to quickly pile on a generous portion of it. Usually he'd feel bad about it, but he'd rather the kid had enough to eat. Besides, these places always had extra food when the night was over. He gave himself a smaller portion of everything the fox picked out, knowing the kid would end up pushing his leftovers to Sonic. Tails didn't always pick out his own food. He used to refuse doing so altogether, saying that he was fine with whatever Sonic wanted to eat. The first time he'd gotten the kid to pick out their lunch Tails had beamed when he realized the older seemed to enjoy his choice of food. Since then, he always got the same thing as Tails whenever he got the cub to pick out something to eat. It seemed to help him voice what he wanted instead of just accepting anything he was given.

Sonic was going to eat at one of the tables, but the little fox was yawning a little too much for him to be able to stay awake long enough to walk back to their room after dinner so he decided on walking back now. But, with the tween's paws being full of their food, Tails was forced to hold onto one of his tails as they made the journey back to their room. Tails climbed back onto the bed so he could hold the food while Sonic turned on the T.V, flicking it onto a random cartoon channel before pushing away the covers so he could sit next to the kit on the bed. Tails frowned as he handed the older his plate of food. "I thought you didn't like cartoons?" He asked once he realized what channel the older chose, looking at the hedgehog expectantly as he took a bite of the chili on his plate. It wasn't nearly as good as Sonic's, but it wasn't bad. Sonic shrugged as he stabbed his fork into the small salad, leaving it there for a moment so he could sign his response before picking it back up to eat his bite. 'You like them.' "I know that." Tails said through his mouthful before quickly swallowing, "But you don't like them. We can watch something else, I don't mind." The hedgehog shrugged again and took another bite of his food without making any move to respond, causing the cub to pout. Too tired to really fight on the subject, Tails leaned against the headboard of the bed as he quietly ate the rest of his food. Sonic didn't really care about cartoons. They weren't his first pick by any means, but he didn't mind turning it on for little kids to watch. Which Tails is a little kid, despite how smart he is or how much he'd argue that he's "really not that much younger than Sonic" when he's still only four years old. The two of them ate comfortably with the T.V on a low volume but still loud enough to hopefully cover the sounds outside that the walls couldn't muffle. Sonic shifted his position a few times to try and block the window so Tails wouldn't see what little light pressed past the curtains. Tails squeaked out another yawn once he finished eating, handing his half-eaten plate over to the hedgehog. Sonic quickly scraped the rest of the food onto his, setting the now empty plate on the beside table so it'd be easy to grab when he leaves to put the plates back up after he finishes his own food. Apparently too tired to feel embarrassed right now, Tails wiggled under the covers until he was fully laying down before leaning over to rest his head against Sonic's hip instead of the pillow directly behind him. The hedgehog froze at the contact as his eyes snapped down to the kit, only to find that he was already out cold. Soft snores escaped him as his breathing evened out faster than Sonic has ever seen, the fox easily finding comfort in the physical contact. Too stiff to be anywhere near comfortable, Sonic gently laid his paw across Tails's torso, giving him a couple soft, awkward pats as he just watched the younger breathe for a few seconds. It took him a minute to settle against the headboard again, but it's faster than it usually takes him to get comfortable with someone touching him unprompted so he sees it as a win. And he only relaxed further after Tails started to quietly purr. They stay like that until Sonic finished his plate, stacking it on top of the other dirty dish before he laid down to join Tails in the dream world. He lifted the kit's head just enough to move around, gently setting it down on his chest when he's in a comfortable spot. He brought his paw up to scratch the cub's ear a few times before letting it settle around his back again, easily falling asleep at the soft sounds of comfort coming from Tails. The dishes will just have to wait until morning. ----

[onskepa]

What about ronal and tonwari watching their friends love story ? Like fem reader is nervous about choosing a mate when she has a lot of choices and goes to ronal for advice. Admittedly ronal doesn't want to decide for her but she does have someone in mind problem is tonowari also has someone in mind. Que the subtle love war!

Hiya! So this one I had a tad bit too much fun. Enjoy~!!

P.S: ronal and tonowari was years younger in this one! So expect them to be slightly out of character

---------------

Tiftxey

Ronal was tending to the young new born children, making sure they are healthy and strong. As well as the mothers. The mothers enjoy sharing anything new about their children, their first of something, a new trick, word, or something that caught their eye. It was always entertaining. She hoped one day she would have children of her own. It's only been 2 years since she became mated to tonowari and became tsahik. 

Many women her age have either already mated or are in the process of courting. Ronal predicts many children will be born around the same time. Perfect for them to be friends in a near future. 

“Ronal?” a hesitant voice broke her small train of thought. Looking up, ronal sees her good friend Tiftxey. She had a shy-like posture, her eyes glancing anywhere but her. 

“If you have a moment, can we talk?” 

Tiftxey, from infants to now adults, tiftxey and ronal have been the best of friends. Even their mothers were like them when they were infants. Close at arms, sisters in spirit. They do anything for each other. This situation is no different, the circumstances are however. 

“You…want me, as your tsahik and friend, to find a suitable mate for you?” Ronal repeated what her friend just said. 

“Yes,” her friend nods. 

“It is not that I am opposed to it but, what is the matter with finding one on your own?” Ronal had to know. Tiftxey is a wonderful woman in her own right, she passed all of her iknimaya with a strong head, earned her tattoos, and has a small reputation of her own. Who could ever resist her? 

“That is the thing ronal. I just CAN'T decide. There are many available men. All good and wonderful. But I also struggle with myself. What exactly do I want in a mate? A warrior? A fisherman? Someone strong and confident? Or someone who is in tune with their feelings and sensitive? I am stuck. And I know I do not have a lot of time, other women are having their eyes on others too. Please help me! I can't on my own!!” 

That was a lot that Ronal had to process.

Ronal put a lot of thought into it after conversing with her friend. In the end, she agreed to help. Now the problem is still open. Where can she start? Learning from her past experience, she was arranged by the previous tsahik. That is another thing she will have to do later in the future. Perhaps she can use this as practice. However, this is something that cannot have room for any mistakes. Tiftxey is relying on her for this life changing assistance. 

“What has gotten you so lost in your mind, ronal?” 

Ronal turns to see tonowari entering their home with a net full of fish. He sets them down near the fire pit and sits beside ronal. They hug and share a kiss. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, Tonowari tries to read his mate's face. 

“It is tiftxey, she asked something…” Ronal mumbles. 

“What was it?” 

“She asked me to find a mate for her” was the answer. 

It did not surprise Tonowari much, yet couldn't help but feel intrigued. 

“Would that be an arranged marriage..?” he asks.

Ronal looks to the side, thinking it over. 

“Yes..? Well, I believe it will be like that. Choosing someone suitable for her. I thought it over, of course I agreed to help her. This is something that will occur in many years to come” 

Tonowari scratches his chin, silently agreeing. A question still lingers in his mind, “why does she need help?” 

“Cant decide. I can see why. But tonowari, she seems to be ready to mate. Who? Tiftxey cant seem to make up her mind” 

With a sigh, ronal collects some dried seaweed to weave. 

“And have you thought who might be worth of her?” 

“Not exactly, in the next few days I will need to observe all available men. I have to put into consideration her heart and spirit. Make sure no one hurts her, and treats her well” 

Tonowari nods at that, all mates should treat the other well, and equal. It takes two to be in unison. 

Though, the more he thought about it, it seemed like a big task for Ronal to take alone. Maybe she would like some help?

Today a handful of warriors would be out on the beach to train the little ones. It will be a good time for Ronal to observe who is the strongest, patient, and good with children. While it is good to find perfect traits in a lover, but tiftexy must also into account if the potential mate has good traits to be a father. 

To not disturb their work, Ronal stands at a fair distance, to “witness the upbringing of the clan's future warriors” was her excuse. Wasn't a lie either. So, for an hour, Ronal was watching only single males who are mated. Some were strict, some a bit more relaxed, some patient, all good traits. 

“Easy there little one, you must hold it like this” 

A strong, almost deep voice rang into ronal’s ears. 

A warrior was demonstrating how to hold a spear to a child. The male was grinning, flexing a bit of his muscles to impress the admiring little ones. 

Txurtu is his name. Ronal doesn't know much personally, he has his display of tattoos, telling his story. Many admire him for his good yet strict teachings, strong head, and a bit of confidence. He seems to be a good choice, but ronal would have to look deeper. There are more men to observe. 

For now, txurtu seems to be a perfect candidate for tiftxey, tonowari might agree as well. 

Over at the other side of the island was tonowari observing the young artists. Collecting shells and dead corals to make their new masterpiece. Be it for clothing, stories, no spec has gone to waste. Among the artist was a bright eye, warm smile, young male name zet. 

Zet is 2 years younger than Tonowari, but already has a place in the clan. Working closely with the elders, zet is becoming the next story teller. Continuing the old stories while telling new ones. He is good with people, gentle, very patient, and humble. Good traits for any female to fall for. He may not be a warrior or a strong type, but in the eyes of the olo’eyktan, zet is a good man worthy of a good woman. 

He will be perfect for tiftxey. 

So, with a slight smug grin, tonowari takes mental notes. Ronal will most likely be pleased, and hopefully her dear friend as well.

At sundown, both mates arrived at the same time in their home. Smiles matching, positive laughter. Preparing the fire pit, both work together to begin dinner. 

“You seem to be in good spirits,” Tonowari mentions, starting the fire. 

Ronal hums in satisfaction, “Indeed. I bring wonderful news” 

This piques tonowari’s interest, “what a coincidence, so do I” 

Tilting her head, Ronal cues her mate to go first. 

“I believe I have found a perfect match for tiftxey” tonowari proudly says. 

This made ronal lose her smile. And mood. 

“What? I was also about to say so have I” she says. 

Now both were slightly confused, “who did you see as a potential?” the tsahik asks. 

“Zet” 

Ronal almost wanted to scoff, “zet? The poet?” 

Her mate nods, “Yes, he is gentle, kind, listens very well” he lists. 

Ronal shook her head, not to be mean to her love, but secretly….was that the best he could do? Pick the softest male in their clan? Ronal could not imagine him with tiftxey. What would she think? Will she be disappointed? 

Tonowari catched her expressions and read the lines well. She is clearly not satisfied with his choice. 

“You look unpleasant when I mention zet” he pointed out. 

Ronal looks down a bit, then back at him, “that obvious?”

Folding his arms, tonowari nods, “well then, who did you choose ronal?” 

“Txurtu” she answers confidently. 

Now it was tonowari’s turn to almost scoff, “txurtu? The confident brute?” 

Ronal taps his forehead, “he is not a brute. He is strong, a good warrior, and will protect anyone including tiftxey” 

Tonowari shakes his head, slightly grinning, almost wanting to laugh. “He is aggressive, strong headed, stubborn at times. Do you truly believe he will be good enough for tiftxey? You must also take into account how she is. I bet his aggressiveness will push he away” 

Ronal leans a bit in, her eyes becoming a bit more intimidating. “And you believe zet is a far superior choice? Too soft, refuses to hold any form of weapon, his head stuck in the sands. Easily distracted, never truly focused. Tiftxey would be bored of his predictable ways”

Both narrow their eyes, as if in a more challenging way. 

“Well then my wife, it seems there is no other way than to settle this” tonowari says with a slight grit in his teeth. 

“Of course my husband,” Ronal growls. May the best candidate win. 

Tiftxey was enjoying her early morning at her home. It was nice and tidy, a good thorough clean. Cant have a messy home, wouldn't be very impressive to a potential mate. She enjoys her meal of roasted fish wrapped in dried, seasoned seaweed. Delicious in her taste buds, another thing she must perfect is her cooking skills. Have to show she can make tasty meals and provide a good meal. 

Sighing deeply, hope lingering in her eyes and mind imagining scenarios of romantic gestures. It has only been a day since she asked Ronal a huge favor. Asking her now would pressure ronal. From what tiftxey has seen from the previous tsahik, arranging is not an easy task. Have to make sure both partners are matching, yet balancing each out. Certainly there is someone on the island that can be her match. 

“Tiftxey?” 

Turning her head around, tiftxey see's txankrr, her long time neighbor. She has known txankrr just as long as she has known ronal. Not close as best friends but still close. 

“Hello txankrr, care for some roasted fish?” she offers, her neighbors nod. Handing him the most recent cooked fish, she gently wraps it in a leaf so as to not burn his hands. Accepting it, he begins to eat, savoring its delicious flavor. 

“What brings you here early?” tiftxey asks, txankrr hums at remembering his reason. 

“I was making my way to the ilu pens when I saw the tsahik speaking to txurtu. Seemed didn't pay attention until she said your name. Have you finally asked her to help you in finding a mate?” 

Tiftxey nods a bit enthusiastically. 

“Yes! I'm surprised she found someone so quick” 

Txankrr tilts his head slightly, “what do you think of txurtu? Be honest” he asks. 

Tiftxey is silent for a few seconds before answering, “well, I cannot say anything at the moment. To be fair, you did spoil a potential surprise. So, until our tsahik brings him up, I won't say a word” 

Fair. 

So, txankrr lets it go for now.

“Tiftxey, I would like to introduce you to zet” tonowari says as he gestures to zet. The na’vi in topic smiles as he greets tiftxey. This slightly confused her, did ronal tell tonowari of the situation? If so, did they choose together or what is going on? 

“Hello zet” she greets, not wanting to be rude. 

“Zet here is rising to be a storyteller and poet. Knowing his way around the arts and very creative” tonowari proudly lists. This made zet blush a bit. 

“Olo’eyktan, please, you praise too much” he shyly says. Tonowari chuckles, slightly pushing zet forward. “I shall let you two speak alone, get to know each other” he leaves without giving them any room to speak. 

So zet and tiftxey stand in front of each other, smiling and chuckling a bit nervously. 

“Let me be the first to speak, what exactly did our olo’eyktan say to you…?” tiftxey couldn't help but ask. 

Zet rubbed his arm nervously, “he visited my home the other day. Wanting to seeing how I was doing, we spoke until I mentioned that I was in the midst of looking for a mate. He said that it was a coincidence since he knew someone who was also searching for a mate, and then…well, we are here” 

“I see….”

This is an opportunity that she didnt expect but won't deny. It be very rude to both zet and tonowari. So tiftxey will try to make the most of it. 

“Well, why not give it a try? Walk with me?” she asks. Zet nods, still nervous but begins to walk beside her as they start to chat. 

Tonowari is by no means a stalker, he will never invade someone's space and/or their lives. He is respectful, knows to keep a distant, and above all else, knows better than to stoop so low. 

“So what are you doing?” an all too familiar voice asks. 

Tonowari was hiding behind a lushfull bush until he heard ronal’s voice behind him. He turns to see her not so pleased face. 

“Snooping around like some young boy, you are above this tonowari” she colds. 

Before tonowari can explain himself, her eyes drifted and widen slightly. Do her eyes deceive her? Zet side by side with tiftxey? 

“So…you went through it after all” it wasnt even a question. 

“I knew zet is a good fit, I meant it ronal. He will treat her good” he says 

Both silently observe as zet was chatting while tiftxey was paying close attention. They were painting something together, too far to see what it was exactly. Though from what they can tell, they seem to be getting along fine. This however, does not sit well with ronal. 

“Enjoy your small victory husband, tomorrow things will change” Ronal says as she walks away. Tonowari knows she can be stubborn once she makes up her mind. Well, he may not be as stubborn, but he isnt one to give up. 

Dinner was shared between tiftxey and txankrr, chatting anything that comes to mind. 

“How was it with zet? Is he what you are looking for?” txankrr asks before sipping some broth. 

“Hmm…its too soon to say. Today was the first day of getting to know him. However, I do like his artistic views, he chats a lot. Expected since he is on his way to be a story tell to the village. But he gets a bit distracted, and easy too” tiftxey says as she recalls spending her time with him. 

“Dont get me wrong, he is a good man. Perhaps with time I will see more sides of him and fully understand” 

“Reasonable” txankrr agrees. 

Without needing to ask, he silently pours more broth into his friends bowl while adding some meat as well. 

“Are you going to meet him again tomorrow?” he asks. 

“Yes, though I get the feeling something will get in the way…” 

More like someone. 

Mid morning was an agreed time tiftxey and zet agreed to meet, when ronal appeared almost out of nowhere. 

“Tiftxey my friend. I have found a suitable man for you” she says. 

Not giving tiftxey a moment to speak, beside ronal was a tall and muscular na’vi. 

“Hello tiftxey, I am txurtu. I know we barely know each other but hopefully that can grow” txurtu says. His stance was a bit intimidating, strong presence and sharp look. Very different from zet. 

“I looked high and low, in my eyes, he is a potential one. Why not spend some time with him? You will see what I mean” ronal says, and just like tonowari, she leaves them alone. 

“Come, I know a good spot to speak” txurtu takes the lead. Not that tiftxey minded, well, a bit. She didnt want zet to get the wrong idea of ditching her. But she also doesn't want to leave txurtu like that either. 

“Please, tell me about yourself” txurtu asks. His voice strong yet gentle, in hopes to ease her. 

“Look at her, she is admiring his beauty” Ronal says rather smugly. Tonowari rolls his eyes. 

“Is beauty all that matters? Whatever happened to personality and skills?” 

This time it was ronal that was snooping. Silently following txurtu and tiftxey, seeing how they are interacting. In her eyes, they already look perfect for each other. 

“Yes my husband, but a womans eyes enjoy seeing something beautiful. Like how I see you and admire your tattoos. Tiftxey is no different” 

“Are you sure about that tsahik?” 

Tonowari and ronal quickly turn around to see the fisherman, txankrr. 

“Pardon me for startling you, but I couldnt help but notice you two observing a bit too keenly over tiftxey and txurtu” he says. 

The mates look at each other before quickly fixing their posture. 

“Before anything, tiftxey has shared with me what is going on. May I speak in words of advice?” 

Ronal nodds, granting permission. 

 “Tsahik, you know tiftxey just as long as I do. Olo’eyktan, you have known ronal for many years. However, while yes tiftxey has asked to help in search of a mate, it seems you two have taken it in a way that won't do any favors for her” 

Ronal took a slight offense to that, tonowari didn't but also did not like where this is going. 

“You believe I do not know what is good for her?” ronal hisses. Txankrr in her eyes was also passive, not really taking possible chances or opportunities and just let things be. 

“No, in fact, I believe neither of you do” 

Tonowari had to place his arm over ronal before she can jump on txankrr. 

“Please, explain” he urges txankrr before ronal would tie his tail in a knot. If it is even possible. 

“Zet and txurtu are two good men. They are becoming experts in their owns fields of skills and both are contributing to the clan in their ways. They have good traits that a woman would love to have in her partner. I am not saying they are terrible choices. What I have noticed is they are more suited to your ideals” 

Ronal stopped struggling, her ears twitching at txankrrs words. 

“How so?” she asks. 

“Zet is passive, kind, soft, gentle, and chooses words over weapons. Olo’eyktan, if you were not our leader, your ideals would fit almost exactly like zet. Your words are soft, kind, and gentle. You know many stories and would share with those willing to listen. Ronal, txurtu is more like you. A bit brash, stubborn, bold, a warrior and not afraid to hold a weapon to fight. They are ideals because you are putting your interests first, not tiftxey. 

I know this is for her, but you are forgetting her desire, traits, and what she really needs in a mate. Please think this through before either of them gets hurt. For I am starting to notice this is becoming more like a game to you both” 

Silence fell between ronal and tonowari. Letting txankrr’s words echo in their minds. Perhaps he is right, using their own liking traits over the one who should be their priority. 

“It seems….there is much to think over” ronal says. 

“Yes, and fix as well” tonowari agrees. 

Meanwhile tiftxey was having an interesting time of her life. 

“See? I told you, seaweed when seasoned just right, it will compliment the fish” she says as she, zet and txurtu all have an early lunch at the beach. 

“Kelp would make a good substitute if seaweed cannot be contained” zet gives tips. 

“Though this reminds me of that one story about a fish with shiny reflective scales” he goes on. 

Tiftxey gasps happily, “I think I know which one you are talking about” 

“That is a good story, my brother would say it to his children every night” txurtu says. He has pieces stuck to his mouth, tiftxey gently wiped it away for him. 

“This might sound odd, but I have always wondered what an akula would taste like” he confsses. He expected mocking laughter but none came. Zet and tiftxey had thoughtful expressions. 

“We might never know, they are dangerous to capture. Even our olo’eyktan struggled with one” zet mentions. 

“Well, we can only dream about it. But I hope the pincer fish will do it for now?” tiftxey asks as she offers more fish to which zet and txurtu happily accepts. 

“If you two are available, perhaps tomorrow you can come by to my place? I have something that might help with going into the sea” zet offers. Txurtu was the first to accept, tiftxey gladly did too. 

“Maybe after, let's ride on our akula’s? The tides are low enough for good hunting” txurtu offers. All accepted and already planning out the next day will be. 

Okie this one took me a bit, had to think how will the scenarios play out. Happy with how it turned out, hope you all like it! Until next time! See ya!

----------

Tiftxey = choice

zet = treat emotionally, display an attitude towards

Txurtu = strong man

Txankrr = for a long time

[writeriguess]

Could you write a Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female reader, where reader is kidnapped by the enemy and he and rest of the team has to go rescue her. Happy ending pls?

The muffled sound of your heartbeat thrummed relentlessly in your ears. The cold, damp air pressed against your skin, chilling you to the bone. The room was suffocating, dimly lit by a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows on the cracked concrete walls. You tried to move, but the rough, frayed rope digging into your wrists made it impossible. Every shift in position sent sharp waves of pain through your body, the bruises and cuts on your flesh burning from the strain.

You had lost track of how long you'd been here—hours, days maybe. The moments of unconsciousness were your only reprieve, but they were fleeting. When you came to, the interrogation would begin again, the faceless men demanding information. But you gave them nothing. Through it all, you held onto one thing: hope. The hope that Ghost and the team would find you.

Simon will come for me.

That single thought repeated over and over in your mind like a mantra, even as your body screamed in agony.

Meanwhile, elsewhere…

Ghost’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his knife as he stared at the satellite images spread across the table in front of him. His mask was pulled tight over his face, hiding the clenched jaw and the storm brewing behind his eyes. He could hear Captain Price talking, laying out the plan, but all Ghost could focus on was the image of the building where you were being held. The intel had finally come in. You were alive—but barely.

Ghost had never been one to let emotions interfere with a mission, but this was different. This was you. He couldn’t let the gnawing fear take over, though. He needed to stay sharp, for you.

“She’s strong,” Soap said from across the table, his voice steady, though his eyes flickered with concern. “She’ll hold out. But we need to move fast.”

Ghost nodded, barely able to trust himself to speak. He knew you were strong, stronger than most. But he also knew what kind of monsters the enemy could be.

“Move in silent. No mistakes,” Ghost finally said, his voice a low growl. “We bring her home.”

Back at the enemy base…

You flinched at the creak of the door as it swung open, your body tensing in anticipation of the next round of pain. The men stepped into the room, their faces blurred by the haze of your exhaustion. One of them knelt in front of you, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Talk,” he snarled, his breath hot against your skin. “Or this gets worse.”

You grit your teeth, forcing your mind to focus on anything but the sharp pain radiating from your ribs. Ghost will come. He always does.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” you rasped, your voice hoarse.

His eyes narrowed in fury, and he slapped you hard across the face. Stars burst behind your eyes, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth.

“You think someone’s coming for you?” he sneered, leaning in closer. “They’ve already forgotten about you.”

But that wasn’t true. You knew it wasn’t.

Suddenly, a sound—a subtle click—broke the tense silence. The guard’s head snapped up just as the lights cut out, plunging the room into darkness. You heard a muffled thud, followed by the dull sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

Your breath hitched. Could it be?

Then, like a ghost in the shadows, you felt the air shift. A figure moved toward you with deadly precision, and before you could process it, your blindfold was ripped away.

It was him.

“Simon,” you whispered, relief flooding your chest.

His eyes locked on yours, fierce and protective. “I’ve got you,” he growled softly, quickly cutting the ropes that bound you. The warmth of his touch on your wrist sent a jolt of reassurance through you.

But there was no time to bask in the relief. Ghost scanned the room, ever alert. “Can you walk?” he asked, his voice steady but urgent.

You nodded, though your legs felt like jelly beneath you. Ghost helped you to your feet, supporting you with one arm around your waist. His presence was an anchor, grounding you amidst the chaos.

“Stay close to me,” he commanded, pulling his pistol from its holster.

Outside, the team was already in motion. Soap and Gaz were moving through the building, taking out the remaining guards with silent efficiency. Price coordinated the extraction from a distance, guiding them toward the exit.

The air outside was cool, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the room where you had been held. You clung to Ghost as he led you through the dimly lit hallways, every shadow a potential threat. But with him beside you, you knew you were safe.

Suddenly, the crack of gunfire shattered the silence, bullets whizzing past your head. Ghost shoved you behind cover, shielding you with his body as he returned fire.

“They’re onto us,” Soap’s voice crackled through Ghost’s earpiece. “We need to move—now.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened. He glanced at you, checking for any sign of hesitation. But you gave him a nod, determination etched into your features despite your battered state.

“Stay low,” he instructed, his voice low and gravelly.

You moved together, darting from cover to cover as the gunfire intensified. Ghost was a force of nature, moving with deadly precision, each shot finding its mark. You couldn’t help but marvel at the way he operated, so calm, so calculated.

Finally, you burst through the doors of the compound and into the night air. The helicopter was waiting in the clearing, its rotors slicing through the air. Gaz and Soap were already inside, covering your escape.

Ghost helped you into the helicopter, his strong arms lifting you with ease. Once inside, you collapsed onto the bench, your body finally giving in to the exhaustion.

As the chopper lifted off the ground, you allowed yourself to relax for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The adrenaline began to wear off, leaving you feeling weak and shaky. You leaned back against the cold metal, your eyes fluttering closed.

But then you felt a hand on your arm—his hand. You opened your eyes to find Ghost kneeling in front of you, his usually cold eyes soft with concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and quiet, meant only for you.

You nodded weakly, the corners of your mouth tugging into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks to you,” you murmured.

Ghost’s gaze never wavered, his hand lingering on your arm, grounding you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the hum of the helicopter the only sound between you. His eyes, though still steely and unreadable to most, held an intensity you had never seen before.

“You’re safe now,” he said, his voice low, but there was something in the way he said it. A promise. A vow.

The journey back to base was a blur. By the time you touched down, your body was screaming in pain, but you kept your chin up. You had survived. With Ghost by your side, you could survive anything.

As the medical team rushed you to the infirmary, Ghost lingered just outside the door. He didn’t follow you in, but you felt his presence, watching, waiting.

Hours later, after you were bandaged and resting in a cot, you heard the soft creak of the door opening. You knew who it was without even looking.

“Simon,” you whispered, your voice weak but filled with gratitude.

He stood by the door, still in full gear, the skull mask casting an intimidating shadow. But you knew better. Beneath that mask was the man who had risked everything to save you.

“Rest now,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I’ll be here.”

And with that, you drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, knowing that no matter what happened, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley would always come for you.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like at once.

[deeppenguinstudent]

something about how Jeremy has a passion for music and ends up singing at a local club with a very attractive yet mysterious bartender that amps up his fraysexual tendencies.

something about how jeremy, who was an addict to prozac and alcohol and was drowning in the prospect of never becoming a true musician battling his addiction so he can remain sober in the face of Jean aka the bartender.

something about how Jeremy writes lyrics and lyrics about Jean, his thoughts always drifting towards the teasing glint within his eyes, and he manages to write a song that caught the eye of a producer (Cough rhemann) that by happenstance came around.

Jeremy then is propositioned to write an album, which he does, and rhemann absolutely loves it. He gets the opportunity to go on tour, but he has to leave Jean behind, which leaves him reluctant at first but Jean kisses him and promises he'll be right where he left him.

After 6 months, Jeremy comes back to the bar, but what he sees shatters his heart. he sees Jean across the table from some guy. He tries to play it down by saying it's just a friend, but as Jean leans towards him and captures his lips, Jeremy knows he can't lie to himself anymore.

His music turns fickled with jealousy. It was still met with glee from his fans, but he drank and popped pills almost every day trying to get that damned image of Jean out of his mind. Jean finds him one day, beside the bar.

He attempts to make conversation, but Jeremy is feeling bitter, and he is so hurt. Jean was the one who told him to chase his friends, Jean was the one who promised him that he'd wait for him as they kissed their goodbyes, but he had already found another man.

Jean didn't seem remorseful. He just seemed melancholy. he says to Jeremy that one day, he'd look back and realise that Jean was the one that would hold him back. He didn't want him to choose between his career and Jean because either way, they'd both be unhappy.

Jean had a partner who chose his career over him. He did encourage him, but Kevin had left him with a shattered heart and that was not a situation Jean would like to repeat again. Especially since it would hurt more coming from Jeremy.

all my songs are about you. the good, the bad, the happy, the sad. jean I can't go one day without you in my mind and it's driving me mad.

he takes Jean home, and Jean sees the scrapped paper all filled with Jean's name. It was the first draft, after all - Jeremy needed to show his raw emotion.

Idk what happens after you decide

[prettygirl-gabi]

Tension

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Rating:General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, heavyyyyy angst, arguring, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom:Seventeen (SVT)  (boyband)

Relationships: !idol Dino x !idol f reader

Summary: What happens when you are the only girl member of svt, but you only but heads with Dino....

(I wanna establish that y/n has been a member since the beginning as a pr stunt, but the fans liked have a girl member in the group)

Trope : work frenemies

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Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the thirteenth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

It started like any other day—a regular Tuesday morning with Seventeen rehearsing, voices overlapping, the faint smell of sweat and cologne filling the room. Everything was in motion, and yet I found myself anchored to the spot, glaring at Dino. Our usual standoff, fueled by some unspoken rivalry, like clockwork.

Ever since I joined the team, there was this weird tension between us. It wasn’t that we hated each other. No, hate is clear-cut, direct. This was… messier. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to punch him or kiss him, and that uncertainty scared me.

“You’re not in sync,” Dino snapped, cutting through my haze, as if sensing my thoughts. He turned to me, his eyes sharp and critical. “Again.”

I rolled my eyes. He was always so damn nitpicky about the choreography, like he had something to prove. To me. To himself. To the group. I wasn’t sure which.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” I shot back, my voice harsher than intended. “I’m doing fine.”

“You’re dragging the rest of us down,” he spat, not even trying to hide his frustration. His jaw clenched in that way that made my stomach twist. Why did he have to look so good when he was angry?

“I’m not dragging anyone down,” I retorted, stepping forward, close enough to see the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, the rise and fall of his chest. “Maybe if you stopped micromanaging everyone, we’d get through this faster.”

His lips twitched into something like a sneer, and for a second, I thought he was going to say something cruel, something that would sting. But instead, he just scoffed and turned away, muttering under his breath, “Whatever.”

I hated this. The constant back-and-forth, the biting comments, the way he got under my skin. It was exhausting, and yet, I couldn’t stop. There was something about Dino—something infuriating and magnetic, like we were stuck in this endless dance of tension, neither of us willing to give in.

The rest of practice passed in a blur, with Dino’s words ringing in my ears. I was distracted, my focus shattered. It didn’t help that every time I caught a glimpse of him, my heart did this stupid flip, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to beat faster in anger or something else entirely.

By the time rehearsal ended, I was done. My muscles ached, my head throbbed, and I just wanted to get out of there, away from him, away from this. But of course, fate had other plans.

“Hey.” His voice cut through the silence of the empty studio, and I froze, my hand hovering over the door. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to look at him.

“What do you want, Dino?” I asked, my voice cold. Distant. It was easier that way.

“You’re still mad,” he said, not a question, just a statement, as if he already knew.

“I’m not mad,” I lied, my hand gripping the door handle tighter. “I just don’t want to deal with you right now.”

He laughed, a bitter sound that made something inside me clench. “Right. Because we’ve been getting along so well lately.”

I couldn’t help it. I turned then, my eyes narrowing as I faced him. “Maybe we wouldn’t be at each other’s throats all the time if you weren’t such an arrogant ass.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought I’d crossed a line. But then he stepped forward, his gaze locked on mine, and the air between us felt charged, electric.

“Arrogant?” he repeated, his voice low, dangerous. “You think I’m the problem here?”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. “You act like you know everything, like you’re always right, and it drives me insane.”

He was closer now, too close, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of his cologne. My breath hitched, and I hated myself for it. Hated that he had this effect on me.

“Maybe I wouldn’t act like I know everything if you weren’t so stubborn,” he shot back, his voice tight. “You never listen. You never let anyone help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” I said through gritted teeth. “I can handle myself.”

“Right,” he muttered, his eyes flicking down to my lips for a split second before returning to mine. “Because you’ve been handling it so well.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him to screw off, but the words caught in my throat. Because suddenly, everything—the anger, the frustration, the months of tension—it all came crashing down on me. And before I could stop myself, I reached up, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was raw, desperate, filled with all the things we’d been too afraid to say. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was no rivalry, no frustration, just the feel of him against me, his lips on mine, and the overwhelming sense of relief that came with it.

But then reality came crashing back, and I shoved him away, my chest heaving. “This doesn’t change anything,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

Dino stared at me, his eyes wide, like he was just as shocked as I was. “You’re right,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Over the next few weeks, things between us shifted. The arguing didn’t stop—if anything, it got worse. Every conversation felt like a powder keg, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. But beneath all that anger, there was something else now. A heat, a pull that neither of us could ignore.

One night, after another particularly brutal rehearsal, I found him sitting alone in the studio, his head in his hands. Without thinking, I sat down next to him, the silence between us heavy.

“I’m tired,” I admitted quietly, breaking the tension. “Of fighting with you. Of pretending like I don’t—”

“Like you don’t care?” he finished, lifting his head to look at me, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it.

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. Like that.”

He sighed, leaning back against the wall, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just… I don’t know how to act around you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

He glanced at me, a small, bitter smile on his lips. “You drive me crazy,” he admitted. “In the worst way. And the best way.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Dino…”

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “I don’t want to keep pretending like this is just… nothing.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. For the first time in months, there was no anger, no frustration, just the two of us, sitting in the aftermath of all the chaos we’d created.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” I whispered, my heart in my throat.

He turned to face me, his eyes searching mine, and in that moment, everything clicked into place. All the fighting, all the tension—it was because we’d been running from this. From whatever this was between us.

Slowly, tentatively, he reached out, his hand brushing against mine. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself fall.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But for the first time, it felt real. And that was enough.

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            ‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[splendsay]

IT'S WIP WEDNESDAY!!!!

You already know lol

Callsign: Sunshine

!!MDNI!! Pairings: TF 141 x F!Reader CWs: Explicit language, canon-typical violence, torture, implied/referenced rape Chapters: 24/? Publishing Frequency: 4+ chapters per week Tropes/themes: Found family, slow burn, mutual pining, reverse harem

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You wake to the smell of smoke again. Thick and fetid. 

You bring your wrist to your line of sight and squint. The uranium in your watch glows dimly, but it's just bright enough to see. Ah. It's Wednesday. Immolation Day.       The sun is still hiding beneath the horizon -- the sky outside your window a deep, unforgiving black. You sigh, half-tempted to draw the covers up over your face and go back to sleep, but your stomach lets out a yowl of protest. If it's Wednesday, it's been -- 1, 2...4 days since you've last eaten anything. A growl of frustration escapes you. Despite all your efforts to do otherwise, you'd quickly powered through your stockpile of rations after the city was sacked by rebels three months back. Your last meal of any substance had been the greasy bone meat of roasted street rat and a bouillon cube. Food -- real food -- was a rarity in Southern California these days.       That's why they burn the bodies. 

You sit upright in your makeshift bed -- a thin pile of newspapers, truth be told, and take in the dark, colorless space around you. You'd run out of candles ages ago. They pepper the room, melted to useless nubs. You lean over, fumbling in the dark for your cell phone -- your last remaining luxury, when this building had enough power to charge it. To your surprise and temporary delight, you have a charge -- 38%. Not much, but still. Without internet, you could make it last a few days. You frown, though, glancing at the screen again. You missed a call.  

  "The fuck," you mutter. You tap the phone icon and it pulls up your call log. A number you don't recognize called you just over an hour ago -- 11 pm. You know the area code, though. +44 was the U.K. Or, it used to be. You don't know much about the state of the world beyond Temecula, but you know it can't be much better or worse than this. From what little you could gather from the gibberish they published in the papers you stole from the one corner store still in operation -- some sort of third World War was waging between Russia and a country whose name you didn't recognize. It'd been years since you'd taken a history class. Any class, really. And it was hard to care about any far off land when this one had gone to such shit.     The fact that the call had connected surprises you. You stand and walk to the shoddy cell tower repeater perched precariously on the sill of your window. "Huh," you muse aloud. Its little green light blinks up at you happily. You bring the phone in front of you again, frowning down at it. What the hell. You tap the mystery number and hold the phone to your ear. It connects instantly -- but it doesn't ring.       "Laswell," a woman's voice barks from the other end of the line. You almost drop your phone, you're so startled. You recover -- barely -- and bring the phone back to your ear. 

"Hello? Hello?"

"Hi, yes, um...this number called mine an hour ago. I'm...calling you back." Your lips pull back from your teeth in a visceral cringe. Idiot.      "Sunshine," the woman says, matter-of-fact.       Your heart drops into your stomach.       "I...how did you...?"      "It doesn't matter. The United States military requests your support. Yours, specifically, Sergeant."      You bristle at her tone. "I was discharged."      The woman sighs. "Again, it doesn't matter."      Your stomach growls again. You look down at it, mind churning. "Fine. "I'm listening."

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OH OH ALSO I started working on the Azriel x F!Reader fic -- it's going to be heavy handed with a lot of original world-building, so you'll have to be patient avec moi, but I did title it: Shade Cerulean

I'm hoping to have the first chapter published this weekend! :))