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i-dared-myself · 27 days ago

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Hard to Say

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: happy go lucky older sister figure of a skijigi that reader usually is has faded and reader is going through a ROUGH depressive episode constantly zoning out, isolated, barely eats, she doesn’t really talk to the boys anymore, gets caught crying a couple times, etc and obvi the boys help her out and remind her they’re there n all n just HEAVY angst and HEAVY comfort

Cw: Reader is depressed and skips a couple meals. Plz plz plz don’t read if it might trigger something.

Being staff is fun. There’s pressure sure but not as much as the idols face.

Plus, you’re faceless. Your face is blurred if you are accidentally caught on camera, and you wear masks most of the time.

But maybe… Maybe that isn’t the greatest sometimes.

You don’t really get recognized for your work. It’s just brushed aside so that the idols can shine. Which is fine. That’s your job. But it’s frustrating when no one appreciates the effort you put in.

So you work harder, and somehow end up working closely to Stray Kids. You wouldn’t say that you’re best friends with them, but they remember things about you. They remember when your lunch break is and just so happen to take their breaks at the same time.

But they’re just being nice. It’s their job, just as yours is to make them look good.

Although you find that you go on a lot more personal tasks for them. Like helping Hyunjin pick which pictures to use on his Instagram posts. Or listening as Jisung complains about a terrible anime ending.

But the working so hard has led to you being burnt out. You’re fallen into a pit of depression and can’t bring yourself to care.

You’re so immersed in your thoughts that you don’t even notice Minho until he’s settled in the chair next to yours.

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously.

You glance over your phone at him, crossing your legs. “Uh, just looking at some stuff. Do you need something?”

“No,” he says, opening his lunch. You continue to gaze at your phone, avoiding conversation. That’s too much work and you don’t care enough for it.

“Okay,” you reply, just as shortly as him. If you have a reunion of high school friends tomorrow, do you really have to go? You just don’t feel like having to force a smile.

“-I say?” Minho waves his hand in front of your face, scowling fiercely.

You blink at him unsurely. “Sorry?”

Mingi’s eyebrows draw together into an irritated expression you recognize as worry. “That’s what I thought. What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, absently deciding that you would have to go. Maybe it would be what you need to lift your spirits.

“There!” Minho thrusts an accusatory finger in your direction, lips tightening. “You just did it again! You keep zoning out!”

You huff and turn your face away. “No I’m not. I’m fine.”

“Minho!” Seungmin calls from the doorway. “Chan needs you. He wants your opinion on- Oh, hey.”

You force a strained smile at him. “Hi.”

Minho stands, glaring at you. “Eat your lunch. And don’t think that this talk isn’t over!”

You throw your lunch away as soon as he’s gone. Seungmin watches in mild concern, but doesn’t say anything.

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

The rest of your coworkers are going out for drinks. They invited you along, but you politely declined. You didn’t feel like forcing conversation with a bunch of people you don’t really know.

“Taking the bus home?” Changbin gently asks as you search your pockets for your phone.

“Yeah.” You locate your device and check the time before grabbing your non-eaten lunch. Maybe you’ll have it for dinner so you don’t have to cook or find dinner.

“Did you want a ride?” Changbin offers. “I was going that way.”

“No. I’m fine.” You turn and walk away, staring at your phone. You don’t have any texts or anything, but you don’t want to talk. It’s too tiring.

“Are you sure? Because I know that your usual route-“

“I’m fine!” Tears burn at your eyes and you wipe them away before he can see. But they’re spilling out faster than you can catch, and you’re beginning to hyperventilate. “I’m fine!”

“Hey, what’s-“ Changbin reaches out for you before drawing his hand away. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

You shake your head, but follow him to a bench anyways. The air outside the building is chilly, but you don’t care enough to pull the jacket tied on your waist over your shoulders.

“What’s going on?” Changbin softly asks. He ruffles your hair. “Did you have a bad day?”

You sniffle and rub at your eyes, avoiding eye contact. Changbin hums and doesn’t push the matter further.

The two of you sit in silence for a minute, before you see your bus drive by. You cry harder, knowing that you’ll have to wait even longer to crawl into bed.

“I can drive you home,” Changbin suggests again. “But did you want to talk about whatever this is?”

“No,” you say, shivering. “I just- I wanna go home.”

“Yeah, let’s get you home.” Changbin gets to his feet, passing his hands up your arms in an attempt to warm you. “I’m driving Jisung too if that’s okay. If you don’t want to deal with him right now, I can make him walk.”

You laugh. You laugh for the first time in what feels like weeks where you don’t have to force it out.

It feels good.

“No,” you respond, ignoring Changbin’s fond smile. “He can come.”

You only have to wait a little bit for Jisung to come skipping out of the building, grinning widely when he catches sight of you. He waves, and you muster the energy to give one back.

“We’re taking her home,” Changbin informs Jisung. “She gets to sit in the passenger’s seat and you get the back.”

“What? Why?” Jisung whines. He huffs in protest, crossing his arms.

“No arguing,” Changbin sharply says. “Now get in the car before I leave you here.”

On the ride home, you somehow end up staring out the window in a daze. The conversation goes over your head as you zone out, not even thinking about anything in particular.

Jisung reaches from the back to poke at your shoulder, startling you out of your state. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, sinking into your seat more. You see Changbin glance over before focusing on the road again. “Just… Nothing.”

“Okay,” Jisung hesitantly says. “But just, like, you can talk to us. We’re cool.”

“The coolest,” Changbin agrees.

“So if there’s anything bothering you, we’re here,” Jisung finishes.

You blink to stop tears from rolling out. “Okay. But I’m fine.”

And that night as you throw yourself into bed, you cry harder. Why is it so hard to tell someone?

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

A night out with old friends, as it turns out, didn’t help you. You’re still in this realm of melancholy and can’t seem to figure out how to tell someone.

People keep offering, and you keep rejecting help. Why? Why is it so hard?

“Hey.” Hyunjin sits next to you, opening his lunch. “What do you have?”

“Oh. I didn’t bring anything.” You stare into your coffee dully.

“What?” Hyunjin glances over, lips thinning with disapproval. “Why not?”

“Don’t want it,” you murmur, standing up. You walk out of the lunchroom, ending your break early. You just need to keep yourself busy.

“Oh, hi!” Chan says as you push past him. “Isn’t it your lunch?”

“I think it is,” Felix chimes in, smiling widely at you. “Where are you going?”

“Wait, we’re going out for lunch?” Jeongin pokes his head out of a nearby room.

“She didn’t eat lunch!” Hyunjin shouts, catching up to you.

“What?” Chan narrows his eyes at you. “Is that true?”

“I don’t want it!” you snap. Then you’re crying in front of them. “I- I want to want it, but I don’t!”

“Hey,” Felix soothes, holding his arms out. “Come here.”

You bury yourself in his embrace, sniffling. Felix pats your head and rubs your back, whispering that you’re okay.

“Whats going on?” Seungmin asks as he wanders closer. “Oh. Um, is she okay?”

“Can you tell us what’s going on?” Chan gently coaxes, peeling you away from Felix so that he can comfort you.

“I- I don’t want to,” you sob, hiding your face against his chest. Before you know it, the entire group has gathered around you, searching for ways to solve whatever it is that’s been bothering you.

“You haven’t been acting like yourself,” Minho says. He sighs heavily, frowning. “I - We, I mean, don’t like seeing you unhappy.”

“Why don’t we all take the day off and go out for boba,” Changbin suggests. “Our treat.”

“She didn’t want to eat, idiot!” Jisung hisses, smacking Changbin’s arm.

“S- Sure,” you hiccup out. You rub at your eyes, feeling exhausted and maybe a little hungry now.

“Nice idea, genius!” Jisung claps Changbin’s shoulder. Changbin shoots him an amused look.

Jeongin burrows his way between you and Chan, blinking at you with wide eyes. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“I- I think I’m just burnt out,” you quietly say. It’s hard to admit, and now you’re crying more, but also feeling relieved in a sense.

“Let’s go get boba.” Seungmin grabs your arm and drags you away. “And then we’ll get you some time off work.”

“Seungmin is besties with JYPapi,” Hyunjin jokes, ruffling your hair. “We can make it work.”

“And don’t bottle it up next time,” Minho scolds.

“What, you’re going to tell her what to do?” Jisung raises an eyebrow. “What would you even do about it?”

Minho cracks his knuckles. “Wanna find out?”

“So tell us the next time something like this happens, okay?” Chan softly says to you as Jisung screams and runs away from Minho. “Even if we can’t help, I want to know. We care, because we’re your friends.”

You nod, taking Seungmin’s hand in yours. “Alright.”

Jisung sprints past, followed closely by a cackling Minho.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @lezleeferguson-120 @mbioooo0000

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids fluff #skz #jeongin #changbin #han jisung #lee know #lee minho #minho #lee felix #seungmin

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zepskies · 6 days ago

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Against the Wind - Epilogue

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Dropping this a bit early since tomorrow's a holiday!~ But here we're finally getting to the unplanned epilogue for ATW! The claim bond in this is not unlike the soulmate AU I just wrote for Beau. Guess I have a type on this stuff. 😂 Get ready for some family feels! 🥰

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Posted on Patreon: 4/13/2025

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff, smidge of angst, hint of jealous alpha Dean, tinge of spice~

🧡 Series Masterlist

Epilogue: Shelter

"Someone told me there's a girl out there, with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair..."

You’ve given him a new reason to love Zeppelin IV, Dean thinks. He sneaks another glance at you. The two of you haven’t said anything for almost an hour on this two-day road trip, now almost at an end. But when you notice his gaze on you, the smile you give him is golden.

It makes him feel a little boyish and dumb, like he’s a teenager getting caught staring at his crush. His face starts to get warm, his lips curving upward, so he clears his throat and focuses back on the stretch of road ahead.

The scenery has turned rural, with stretches of wheat-yellow grass and patches of forest on either side of the gray, gravel strip. Out here in Northern California, it’s not so bad as its southern menace—cities like L.A., San Francisco, and Sacramento. Dean can roll the windows down out here and not be assaulted by the mingling scents of exhaust, vegan Tex Mex, overpriced cologne, and broken fucking dreams.

“Almost there,” Dean says, lowering the radio a bit. He points to a big curve in the road up ahead. “If I remember right, we’ve just got this stretch to go.”

You suck in a subtle, but noticeable breath.

“Great.”

Your voice is a little high. Dean raises a brow at you. He concentrates for a moment to suss you out, and he feels a thread of your anxiety through the bond. It’s been just over two weeks since he claimed you, but in that time living such close quarters, practically breathing each other’s air day in and day out, he hasn’t just been getting to know you a hell of a lot more. He’s also starting to understand this private WIFI connection you guys have going on.

Sam tried to explain it to him once, what it feels like after the claim.

“It’s like the world just…shifts on its axis a bit,” he said. “Your awareness expands. You’re connected, in a way that’s kind of…well, it’s hard to explain.”

“Okay, Obi Wan,” Dean chortled. He eyed his brother with amusement, but also with a slight shake of his head. The guy looked fucking twitterpated.

Sam shot him a wry look. “All right, Dean. Just wait. If you ever take that step with an omega, you’ll see. It changes everything.”

Dean held in another snort of laughter. If? Fat fucking chance.

He had no illusions about his life. Not at this point. They both knew he was probably going to die in this bunker, or more likely, on one of these solo hunts he’d started pulling. Sam was busy packing, ready to move out and settle down with Eileen, his mate, his omega—ready to leave his old life behind, and his brother along with it.

Dean was happy for him though. Of fucking course, he was.

He raised the glass of cheap whiskey to his lips.

Dean considers you with half a smile, reaching over smooth a hand along your thigh.

“You okay, ‘Mega?” he asks.

Your lower lip gets pulled between your teeth. You nibble on it, even as you slip your hand over his. You turn to him with a question in your eyes. He already knows the answer, even before you ask.

“I know this was my idea, but you still think this is… It’s not too soon?” you ask.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. He’s gonna like you, sweetheart. They all will.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?”

He tosses you a grin. “Because I like you. And I’m an excellent judge of character.”

He punctuates his point with a kiss pressed to the back of your hand. Your lips tug at a smile.

Mission accomplished.

“Don’t you think you’re a little biased?” you tease.

He shrugs, but his crinkly-eyed grin says it all. You settle back in your seat and relax a little better for the rest of the ride.

You can’t help it. Your anxiety swells back to life as the Impala pulls up the slight hill into a U-shaped driveway, rolling to a stop at a modest ranch-style house. It’s mostly made of rust-colored brick, a white roof with pale gray tiles. Even the walk-up to the porch is lined with brick and white stones. You also notice a little green toddler bike lying on its side in the front yard, where it seems to have dented a sprinkler.

You tread carefully up the pavement on your crutches.

Yeah, your ankle is unfortunately still busted; fractured, to be exact. You’ll be wearing this big ol’ boot on your right foot for two more months at least, but Dean has a hand resting comfortably on the small of your back, a support you appreciate. He gives you one last knowing smile, his thumb brushing your spine.

Then he knocks on the door. His brother and his wife know you and Dean are coming, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking, now knowing what you know about your mate and his family. You know about monsters and terrible, evil things mostly put to rest. You know that Sam and Dean Winchester have quite literally saved the world, more than once.

But it’s not just that. You’re about to meet the only family Dean has left in this world. What if they take one look at you and know you’re not like them? What if they think you’re not enough for someone like Dean?

“Hey,” he says, his deep voice washing over you.

You glance up at your mate, biting the inside of your cheek. Can he feel your nervousness through the bond? You try to bottle it all back up where it belongs, but you’re not really sure how to do that yet. You don’t know if that will change the longer you get used to the soul bond thrumming in your chest, but right now, it feels impossible to hide anything from this green-eyed mountain of an alpha.

Dean shoots you a wink.

The door opens. An even taller lumberjack takes up the entire doorway with his broad shoulders, a light beard down to his neck, and longer, darker hair almost brushing his shoulders. He brightens with a smile when he takes in you and Dean, especially his brother.

He chuckles and pulls Dean into a grappling hug. Dean’s smile is ear-to-ear as he wraps his arms tight around his little brother’s frame, thumping his back with a widespread hand.

“There he is,” Dean says. “But what’d I tell you about that shag carpet on your face? You look like a fucking hippie.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Just as he’s about to answer, no doubt with a dry retort, the patter of little feet come sprinting over, and something knocks heavy into Dean’s bowlegged knees. He looks down and breaks into a new smile, even warmer than the last.

“Hey, little man,” Dean says, bending low to scoop the two-year-old into his arms. The toddler giggles at being raised as high up as his dad carries him.

“Unc!” Dean Jr. exclaims, raising small hands to Dean Sr.’s prickly cheeks. Dean grins and settles the boy on his side.

“You remember me?” he asks.

“‘Course he does,” Sam says, rubbing his son’s back. “He’s always hearing stories of his Uncle Dean. I show him the old pictures too.”

The brothers share a look, one that communicates without speaking. Dean’s is bittersweet and sorry. Sorry it took so long for him to get back here. Sorry for what he’s probably missed. But Sam’s smile isn’t judging, just happy to see him. He turns to you though, apologetically.

“I’m sorry, getting carried away here. Hi, how are you?” he asks.

Dean finally notices you keeping to the side, watching them with a soft smile of your own. You step forward to shake Sam’s hand, carefully taking yours off your right crutch. Dean clears his throat and moves to slip his arm back around your waist, not just for the physical support, but for solidarity.

After you introduce yourselves, Dean finally chimes in.

“Sammy, this is my mate,” he says. The pride and warmth in his eyes are evident as he squeezes your shoulder. Your face heats in a blush, but when you look over at Sam, all you see is a sincere welcome.

“Yeah, I was glad to hear someone finally tied him down,” he says. But then, his good humor sobers, becoming more earnest. “I also heard about your dad. I’m really sorry.”

You shutter up at that one. You’re both surprised and unsurprised, knowing Dean must’ve told him the full story of how you two met, but the mention of your father still makes your lungs tighten. You manage to smile a little.

“Thank you,” you reply. Dean squeezes your shoulder again, his thumb brushing your neck. You lean into him a little, bringing you face to face with Sam’s mini-me, who still hangs on Dean’s shoulder while he stares at you. “Mini Dean” has those big brown eyes that you saw in all the pictures on Dean’s phone, now with shaggier hair and a sweet-as-pie grin.

“Hi,” Mini Dean says shyly.

“Hey, buddy! You’ve almost got your whole fist in your mouth, huh?” you tease, stroking the toddler’s wrist. He looks a little unsure of you, but he reaches out and grabs at a piece of your hair. You let him do it.

“Ooh, you caught me, huh?”

He giggles, especially when you playfully poke your tongue out at him.

Dean’s smirking hard enough to make his cheeks hurt. His gaze lifts from watching you with his nephew and lands on Sam’s softer smile.

Sam welcomes you all into the house, where Eileen finally comes to meet you all. She looks a little frazzled, but still beautiful. Her dark brown eyes take you in before she greets you kindly. She and Sam look just as casual as you and Dean, jeans and flannels or comfortable sweaters.

Lots of flannel, you notice, with your mate and his brother.

“Sorry, was working on dinner,” she says, with an embarrassed smile. “Hope you guys like burnt chili.”

“Honestly I don’t think you can burn chili,” you say, as she leads you all further into the house. “It just enhances the smokiness.”

“Smells good to me,” Dean says. “And right on time, too.” The mention of food is already making his stomach rumble to life. You toss him a look over your shoulder, smiling in amusement. You reach back at pat your man’s stomach.

“You’re always ready to go,” you tease. He grabs onto your hand. It makes you stop for a moment, since you kind of need that hand for your crutch.

“Got that right, baby. Locked and loaded,” he whispers suggestively near your ear. Your eyes widen. You shush him with a laugh, covering his nephew’s ears. He’s incorrigible.

“Already corrupting my son, huh?” Sam says. His tone is censuring, but still amused when he takes Dean Jr. off his brother’s hands.

“Aw, who else is gonna educate the kid?” Dean jokes.

“He’s two,” Sam says dryly. “Maybe wait until he’s in preschool, at least.”

Eileen had nothing to worry about, and not only because your mate always inhales his food (and seconds and thirds) like it’s his last meal. She even made cornbread to go along with the chili.

“From a box,” she’d said demurely.

Regardless, there’s nothing quite like a good hearty bowl of the stuff with a beer and nice, warm, buttery cornbread. Sam even bought a Dutch apple pie for dessert, sending his brother a knowing look when he brings it out.

You all talk and laugh and share stories throughout dinner, even after the conversation moves from the dining table to the living room, where Dean Jr. takes turns getting doted on. He starts out in Eileen’s lap with one of his toys, but then he goes to his name’s sake, even giving Dean an action figure to engage him in battle.

After a while though, the boy starts to get sleepy. He tuckers out on the couch between you and Dean, half splayed in your lap with his head resting in the crook of your arm, while Dean has his sock-covered feet.

“Okay, we should probably get that one officially to bed,” Sam says, jutting a chin over at his son in amusement.

You feel special that the toddler already felt comfortable enough with you to literally fall asleep in your arms, but you glance down at his head with a smile.

“Aw, I’m okay being his body pillow. I’ll just sleep sitting up,” you say, laughing.

Eileen smiles and shakes her head. She signs as she says, “He’s already got you wrapped around his finger.”

“One hundred percent,” you giggle. You grab at his little feet, gently so he doesn’t wake up. “I mean, look at these! I just wanna eat ‘em.”

You look up and happen to meet Dean’s gaze. He hides a grin behind his right hand from where he’s reclined in his corner of the couch. His left hand holds a beer perched on his jean-clad thigh. His eyes, however, roam over you and his nephew with a certain gleam. A blush warms your cheeks.

Eileen eventually takes the little one off your hands. You playfully pout as he leaves you, but it gives you the chance to get up and stretch—and find the bathroom. Sam and Dean are left to sit in a comfortable silence that lingers, just until Dean inhales a deep breath.

“Gotta hand it to you, Sammy. You ain’t done half bad,” he says.

Sam quirks a brow, beginning to smile. “I could say the same to you.”

Dean’s lips twitch, but he stares down at his beer. Something uncertain passes through his eyes.

“How much have you told her?” Sam asks.

“Enough,” Dean replies, after a pause. “More than I fucking wanted to, really. It all just kind of…happened.”

Sam’s mouth quirks at the corners. “Stuck in a cabin for two weeks. Hell of a way to get through the get to know you, phase.”

At that, Dean smirks. “Yeah well, after the heavy shit, we weren’t doing all that much talking.”

Sam sighs, rolling his eyes. But he’s happy for his brother—happy and relieved. Dean’s wellbeing has been a weight on Sam’s mind ever since he left the bunker. No matter how many phone calls and texts, some going unanswered for longer stretches than Sam would like, part of him has felt the familiar guilt of starting over, even though he logically knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He just underestimated, again, how hard it would be for Dean.

Hell, he felt he had to hike up to a cabin in the damn mountains just for something different, a change of pace from drinking alone in the bunker. Sam wonders if Dean was embracing the solitude at that point, or if he was even planning to come back down the mountain.

And despite Jack’s promise to be “hands off,” Sam also wonders if their friend Upstairs had a hand in how you fell while hiking that day. Injuring your ankle. The blizzard. Had it all literally been the perfect storm?

Sam will never voice the thought out loud though. He’s just grateful…even if it is strange as hell to see Dean this way. All night, the man had never strayed very far from your side. He’s been there to reach out a helping hand to you whenever you needed to get up from your seat, raising yourself on your crutches.

And the way you two look at each other. Sometimes it’s just a check-in, a brief touch, and a confirmation. Sometimes it looks like an inside joke, with Dean’s suggestively waggling brows and signature smirk. (You usually look away first, as if fighting a blush.) But sometimes, it’s like a whole conversation passes between you and Dean in just that one moment.

Is that what Sam’s own bond looks like with his mate?

Probably, he thinks with a smile.

“It changed everything, right?” Sam asks.

Finding her. Claiming her. Dean understands what his brother’s getting at with those unspoken words. His gaze rises from his beer. He stares back at Sam and shakes his head.

“Yeah,” he agrees, however reluctantly.

It’s a heavy fucking weight of responsibility, with the lives they’ve led and the enemies they’ve made along the way, but Dean can’t bring himself to regret it. There’s too much of you in his heart already, filling those jagged, frayed, broken parts with smooth muscle and sinew, and new red life blood pumping again.

What he said to you that night still rings true.

It’s too damn late to let go.

That night, Dean falls asleep before you. His light snorts fill the guest room, and after almost a whole day on the road, you’d love nothing more than to join him in dreamland. You’re not sure what’s stopping you. It could be that it usually takes you a while to fall asleep in a new place and an unfamiliar bed, but it could also be your overactive mind still racing with today, and possibilities of tomorrow.

Sam and Eileen had offered for you and Dean to stay for a few days before you continued on your way, or even a week if you wanted. After that, Dean had agreed to take you home and meet your mom. After that though, what? Your job hadn’t been so understanding when you called and told them you’d gotten snowed in a cabin in Montana of all places, with no access to cell service or internet for almost a month.

So yeah, they let you go. It wasn’t a job you were in love with, and of course, meeting Dean is worth more to you than any job…but it had been paying your bills, even while living at your mother's house to help her after your dad's death.

I’ll figure it out…we’ll figure it out, you remind yourself. You’re eventually planning to go back with Dean to that bunker he’s been talking about. At least it’s in Kansas, somewhat close to your sister. From there, you’ll both have figure out the job thing, and potentially the house thing. You’re not totally sure about living in a bunker.

These thoughts keep you up long enough that you heave a sigh and slip out of bed. A drink of water (and a few minutes of mindless pacing) might settle you a little. Somehow, the last thing you expected upon entering the kitchen was to run into Sam boiling water on the stove. He looks over his shoulder at you in surprise.

“Uh, hey,” he says.

“Heyyy,” you give an awkward wave. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Haven’t tried yet,” he admits. “Dean woke up about an hour after we set him down. He’s been finnicky, but finally got him to lay back down.”

At first you’re confused, until it hits you.

“Ah, you mean Mini Dean,” you say, smiling. “Aw, poor baby. He’s at that stage, huh?”

He chuckles wryly. “It’s called Terrible Twos for a reason. Want some tea?” He gestures at the mug he has waiting on the counter.

You agree, thanking him before you sit down at the two-seater breakfast nook in the kitchen. He pours you a mug as well and sits across from you. Silence threatens to reign between you, but you eventually break it.

“Thank you, by the way. For having me here too,” you say. “I know you weren’t exactly expecting me.”

Sam breaks into a smile. “Honestly, I’m the one who should probably be thanking you.”

You blink in surprise.

“Me? I haven’t done anything.” Your lips pull at a smile though, your fingertip tracing the rim of your mug. “Dean’s the one who took care of me. Still is, really. He’s the one who saved me, more than once.”

Sam tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that. But, uh, something tells me you saved him a little too.”

You look up at that, mostly in disbelief. You gave Dean a headache from the beginning. You’d needed his help all the time with your damn ankle. You poked your nose into his business, invaded his privacy, almost got him killed hunting that monster. What was it? Ah, right. A fucking Wendigo.

After all of it, he came back to you. He brought you closure for your father’s death, and held you when you fell apart. And when you kissed him, asked him with your whole heart to let you in, he broke through his own reservations to do it.

“Even if I did, it probably doesn’t even put a dent in what I owe him,” you say after a moment. Tears sting in your eyes, though you try to blink them away, taking in a subtle breath to try and steady yourself.

Sam’s eyes soften. He reaches across the small table and lays a hand on your arm.

“Trust me. I think he’d say you don’t owe him a damn thing,” he says.

You utter a laugh, though you try to keep it quiet. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

You’re about to thank him for real when a low, gravel-filled growl echoes through the kitchen. You and Sam raise your heads to the doorway, where Dean stands in a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair is mussed in sleep, but his face is firm with a tired frown. His gaze is homed in on Sam’s hand resting on your arm.

Sam slowly takes his hand back, quirking a brow at his brother.

“Alpha?” you carefully ask your mate.

Dean blinks a few times once your voice registers in his mind. He seems to come back to himself, shaking his head a bit. He clears his throat and pads over to you guys on bare feet. He drops a hand across your shoulder and down your back. You’re not sure if it’s meant to be possessive or not, but it almost makes you laugh. You manage to hold it in though.

“Hey,” Dean says.

Sam lets out an incredulous chuckle. You understand why. Was Dean really just going to try and pretend nothing just happened?

“Did you just growl at me?” Sam says.

Dean’s lips purse, but he doesn’t answer right away.

Yeah, he was totally going to try and pretend nothing just happened. You bite your lip against a smile.

“Sorry,” Dean says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Uh…so what’s up? You guys having some sort of insomnia party out here?”

Sam snorts. “No. I’m heading to bed actually. Good night, guys.”

“Good night, Sam,” you say. The two of you share an amused look before he leaves. It’s quick, but it’s enough to make Dean roll his eyes as he fights his embarrassment.

You begin to stand up from the table, reaching for your crutch. Dean helps you instead and settles both hands on your waist. You slip your hands up his forearms and curl them around his biceps.

“We were just talking,” you say knowingly. Then, a teasing smile plays on your lips. “About you actually.”

Dean raises a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “All good things. So you can relax.”

His green eyes are a shade or two darker, his inner alpha having risen to the surface. Half-asleep as he’d been when he walked into the kitchen, his instincts were more dominant than his brain in that moment, especially at seeing you and his brother looking a little too chummy.

Dean wraps his arms around your waist and gathers you to his chest.

You can’t help purring in response. He grins, his eyes half-lidded as his gaze roams over you.

“What if I don’t wanna relax?” he says. The depths in his voice make you shiver, and even smile, but you give him a warning look.

“You’re shameless, you know that? We’re in your brother’s house.”

“Aw, he won’t mind.”

You scoff in disbelief. Dean tilts his head with half a smile. He knew you wouldn’t buy that one.

“Eh, it’s all right. He knows how I am,” he says, right before he bows his head for a nipping kiss along your neck. A breathless squeal escapes you, even though you try to contain it. You swat his shoulder.

“Alpha,” you warn. Once again, you try to temper your smile. Dean is only encouraged. His lips and warm breath tease along the edge of your mating gland on purpose, buckling your knees a little. A short whine escapes your lips, and a tremble of arousal pools slick between your legs. You don’t want to let him win on this one, but damn him, he’s playing dirty.

You grab his head, tangling your fingers in his hair, and pull him to your lips for a proper kiss. There he licks into your mouth and pulls a soft moan from deep inside you.

“Okay,” you give up. “But we have to be—”

Dean hooks his arms around your shoulders and under your knees and swiftly carries you up, forgetting your crutches behind. You have to smother your giggles with both hands while he takes you back to bed.

AN: lol Dean's insatiable, but we all knew that. 😆 I know it's been a while, but I hope you guys enjoy this little epilogue for ATW! In my head, she and Dean go on to have little adventures together after he meets her family. Like little dates and road trips to all the places Dean has enjoyed the most on his cross-country travels.

(And then maybe a couple of kids once they get settled in their own little cabin.) 🧡

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hannie-dul-set · 6 months ago

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heartbeat conquest — day 0.

SYNOPSIS. you’re sucked into a reverse harem otome game, and there’s only one goal— say the right things to conquer as many pretty boys as you can. PAIRINGS. tomorrow x together x reader. TAGS. social media! au, modern fantasy, reverse harem (of fucking course), romance, humor, a whole bunch of weird dynamics maybe HUAHAHAHAHAHHAAH. inspired by the manhwa with the same title, “heartbeat conquest.”

it's pink.

no, literally. it’s all pink. one moment, you see the headlights of a van coming straight at you. the next moment, you open your eyes and see nothing but pink. pink floor. pink ceiling. pink walls (if there even are walls. you’ve been walking around for what seems like ages but you’re yet to bump into one).

you never thought that the afterlife was gonna be so bubblegum-y and barren.

but then again, you never expected that you’d be bringing your phone to the afterlife, either.

ding!

now, what in the otome isekai bullshit is this crap?

seriously, what the hell? is this actually real? you stare at your phone, eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion as the notifications keep pouring in— the same text over and over again prompting you to unlock, to start whatever this thing meant by conquest.

this really must be some weird post-death fever dream (can you dream when you’re dead?) but whatever mindfuckery this is, there’s one thing that’s clear to you.

if unlocking meant getting out of this pink-stained hell, might as well give it a damned shot.

your thumb presses the screen. you swipe up.

ding!

all your senses are swallowed by that dreaded shade of sickly sweet, bubblegum pink—

ding! ding! ding!

— and next thing you know, you’re now in an unfamiliar room, pink skies leaking through the sheer curtained window, trinkets strewn about the lived-in bedroom—

ding!

—with five new messages on your phone.

“—the natural talent to be loved and adored by all.”

ding! ding! ding! ding! ding!

how do you start your conquest?

NOTE. i have no idea what the fuck this is going to be, but let’s all have a blast anyway!!!

this is a choose your own adventure. click on the link above and answer the form to progress with the story. you’re the MC of this world who had just been sucked into wherever the fuck this is and have no idea who these five mystery men are, so just to your best in responding with the context that you currently have (none). after this one, more context will be provided, i promise BWAHAH.

honestly the only way to win this and get a “good ending” is to get a correct read of the boys’ characters and give the right responses— and if you’ve read a bunch of my stuff, you probably have a good idea on how i like my male leads HAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHA.

i will synthesize all submitted replies and move forward from there. the form will close once i get enough responses. this is just a little experiment that i’m doing and i have no idea how this gonna turn out HHAHHAHAHAHAHAH still, i hope you guys will participate!

DAY 0 | DAY 1

heartbeat conquest. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#heartbeat conquest #tomorrow x together x reader #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt scenarios #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #hueningkai x reader #kang taehyun x reader #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #huening x rader

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soaps-mohawk · 7 months ago

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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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#call of duty #call of duty fic #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #alternate universe #au of an au #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha philip graves #omega reader

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ttturnitup · 4 days ago

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a piece of your heart | kang daesung x reader

summary: distractions happen, but a shared hobby brings you closer together

word count: approx 5.6k

warnings: none, just some fluff!

author's note: this was written for day 18 of the april bigbang challenge - bonding over a shared hobby! i'm sorry for posting late, i just couldn't seem to get my stuff organised, and im sorry about the end (i really had trouble this time round) but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

The morning sun filtered through the windows, warming you as you stood watching the door. You didn’t have to, of course - it’s not like you had x-ray vision that would let you see the postman before he knocked on the door. Seeing that the tracking information had changed overnight had gotten you excited, however, and you wanted to get your hands on the package as soon as possible. Impatient? Definitely, but you had never claimed to be anything else.

You were so focused on the door that the knocking startled you. You barely held back from making an embarrassing noise, moving quickly to answer the door, your excitement giving you an extra bounce in your step. You smiled warmly as you greeted your regular postman.

“Morning, Steve. Good route so far?”

“I get to see your beautiful face, so I can’t complain, can I?”

“Your husband know you’re flirting with me?”

Steve laughed, holding out the PDA for you to sign. You scribble the signature and swap the device over for the your package. Your smile grows wider as you hear the familiar rattle. You were tempted to shut the door without saying goodbye, but even your impatience had limits. You had the whole day ahead of you, anyway; a couple more moments wouldn’t do harm. Your expression gave something away, however, Steve laughing as he tucked away the PDA and adjusted his postal bag.

“I won’t keep you long today, Y/n. You look like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin. Gotta ask though, is it meant to sound like that?”

“That is the sound of happiness. It absolutely should sound like that.”

Steve simply laughed again, raising a hand in farewell. You waved back, watching for only a moment before dashing back inside, already pulling at the wrapping of the box. You paused once the door had closed behind you. The dining table would be the better option, but your eyes kept being drawn to the living room. Nostalgic memories came to the forefront: blanket forts, pieces strewn across the floor, the quiet drone of whatever show your parents were watching as you built whatever your imagination could conjure.

The decision was an easy one. You already were going to spend the day playing with Lego, so why not give into the childlike whimsy? Your back might not thank you tomorrow, but that was an issue for future you.

You hadn’t thought about Lego in years. You loved it as a kid, but as you grew up and life got busier, it fell to the wayside like things often did. It wasn’t until a co-worker gifted you a set for your birthday that you got back into it. Putting together the orchids piece by piece had brought you a sense of peace and happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. You picked up more sets over time, keeping them aside for a day off or when you needed to disconnect from the world. But the package in your hands was different; you’d been wanting - needing - to create, but you were feeling restricted by the designs and the limited pieces. The opened package in your hands was the answer.

A giant box of classic pieces, with every colour and weird shape piece you could dream of. You dug your hand through the box, enjoying the sound of the pieces cascading like a clunky, plastic waterfall. You weren’t exaggerating before; the sound of the bricks against each other might have been loud, but it was pure happiness.

You start building. Simple things at first, little houses and structures and the like, but as the day went one, your creations got increasing complex and bizarre. Abnormally large towers with weird turrets, recreations of fairytale monsters, an attempt at a car with wings, a misshapen heart - nothing was off limits. It was freeing to just pick up the pieces and stack them together, seeing what idea you would gravitate towards next.

————————————————————————————————-

The morning turned into the afternoon, and the afternoon quickly gave way to early evening. You didn’t noice at first, but once you had, reality came back to you quickly. You’d barely moved all day outside of bathroom breaks and a light snack, too engrossed in your joy. You had no regrets. You stretched, working out the pins and needles from sitting on the ground for hours, and moved towards the light switch. You flipped it on, intending on making dinner and being a responsible adult for a little bit.

A knock on the door interrupts you.

You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not at this time of the day. Curious and cautious, you made your way to the door, looking through the peep hole. When you saw who it was, you swore loudly, causing the man on the other side to call out.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Hi! Give me a moment, Daesung!”

Daesung was at your door. Daesung was waiting politely to take you on a date. A date you had completely forgotten about. You looked down at yourself - not dressed up for a date, but that could easily be fixed. The same couldn’t be said for the very visible living room.

Fuck.

You close your eyes, taking a moment to calm down. There was no need to work yourself up. Daesung had been nothing but a sweetheart since the day you met; if he was rude or mean about the scattered pieces, it was better to know now before the relationship progressed. It wasn’t a dealbreaker by any means, but you guessed it would serve as a decent litmus test.

You opened the door, and you were met with a bright smile, one that lit up Daesung’s face.

“Daesung, hi. I’m so sorry, I completely spaced out. But if you come in, I’ll be ready in a few minutes?”

You stepped aside, an invitation for Daesung. He took it, the smile never dropping.

“It’s all good! The reservations not for a little bit anyway, so we still have time.” He paused, turning back to face you. “It’s nice to see you, Y/n.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and your heart rate picked up. It was a simple statement - nothing more than small talk, really - but Daesung said it with such sincerity that it made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Instead of being overwhelming like it had in the past, Daesung’s attention made you feel warm. Safe.

“Sorry about the mess. I’ll be right back, but feel free to make yourself comfortable!”

Daesung nodded in affirmation, his eyes drifting around your apartment. You saw him linger on the Lego, and you tried to quell the anxiety. It probably meant nothing. Just looking. You couldn’t stay to watch him, though, to analyse his reactions. You didn’t want to keep him waiting for longer than he already had.

Fifteen minutes later, and you had changed into more appropriate attire. The outfit clung to your body, showing it off, but it was still classy enough for the restaurant. You checked yourself out in the mirror; you looked good. Satisfied, you made your way back out to the living room. Daesung didn’t notice you, so you gave into the earlier desire to watch him.

He picked up your creations, careful and reverent. He inspected them, turning them over, interacting with any moving part he came across. The earlier panic dissipated. It was clear that Daesung wasn’t going to mock you for your hobby, not that you thought he would; you’d just had too many people look down on you in the past for interests that they thought were childish, and you now you always expected the worst.

“Those are why I wasn’t ready.”

At the sound of your voice, he looked up, a startled expression on his face.

“Oh, Y/n! I didn’t hear you….”

His sentence trailed off as he noticed what you were wearing. His eyes looked you over, a hungry gaze in them, and you felt yourself blush again.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes! Uh, yes. Y/n, you look…. wow.”

You stepped closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I meant my creations,” you teased, the opportunity too good to pass up, “but thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

Silence stretched between you. Moments passed, and the longer it went on, the more you worried that you had gone too far. You took a step back, ready to apologise, when you heard Daesung make a noise. Not just any noise, though, but a giggle. It was soft at first, but it didn’t take long before it was loud, filling the room with warmth. Your lips curl up in a smile, your own laughter joining his. It wasn’t that funny of a joke, but Daesung’s joy was infectious.

“I think they’re great, Y/n,” he said, once the laughter had died away. He picked up the heart shape, inspecting it once more before holding it up to you, showing it off like it was some precious treasure.

“I think I like this one the best.”

Your real heart started to beat faster. You wouldn’t say that Daesung was in your mind when you had been making it, but that would make you a liar. You had been thinking about your first date, about how well he treated you; you thought about how you could see a future with him, despite only knowing him for a short time. That vision was stronger now, seeing him surrounded by Lego, surrounded by pieces of plastic that represented who you were.

You had always tried to believe in the philosophy that your heart knew best. It had led you astray before, and it had hurt, leaving you wary. Cautious. But seeing Daesung literally hold your heart in his hands, with such tenderness and care? It was easy to believe in that philosophy seeing the proof of it.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “I think I like that one best, too. Still, I’m sorry for being late.”

Daesung shook his head, smiling wide.

“It happens to me all the time!”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah! I love Lego. It’s one of my favourite things to do on days off! It gives me a good chance to rest and - ”

“Recharge,” you finished off Daesung’s sentence. The excitement was hard to keep out of your voice, and you could see it reflected in his expression.

“Exactly! Would you like to see the last thing I built?”

Daesung pulled out his phone, and scrolled through his album to show off his latest Lego masterpiece. You responded with enthusiasm, asking him about the finer details of it, and he explained, showing different photos to highlight his talking points. You talked about your desire to just build without instructions, and Daesung admitted that he hadn’t done that in a long time, but maybe he should do it sometime soon. It was easy to get caught up in the back and forth of the conversation; you’d never really known anyone who understood this hobby of yours, at least not in real life.

The conversation would have continued for linger, if you weren't interrupted by your stomach growling. There’s more laughter as you glance over at the clock.

“Hey, Daesung, what time was the reservation?”

The tone of your voice made it clear immediately that regardless of what Daesung said, you were late. Very late. Time had gotten away from you - again. Daesung looked over at the clock, too, as if to confirm what he already knew. He let out a said little sigh, and you knew that you would do anything to make sure that never happened again, tonight or in the future.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just the Lego effect, right?”

That got you a little laugh, but it wasn’t enough. You could guess that he felt bad about your date not being, well, a date. But you had already had a good time tonight and you weren’t quite ready to say goodbye yet.

“Okay, sure, maybe the original date fell through. But you could stay, and we could order food? I just like spending time with you.”

Daesung’s eyes lit up immediately, any lingering sadness disappearing in an instant. He smiled wide, pulling you close. This time, he was the one pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I like spending time with you too, Y/n. Maybe… maybe we could spend that time building something together?”

You both looked over at the Lego before meeting each other’s gaze. You smiled wide, seeing it reflected back on Daesung’s face.

“It’s a date.”

—————————————————————————————————

Neither of you noticed when the sun came up a few hours later, too busy sharing pieces - and kisses.

challenge taglist; @wcnderlnds, @ldydeath, @loveesiren, @bluesunss, @emmiesoverthemoon, @eru-vande, @berfgrimm, @gdinthehouseee, @infinetlyforgotten, @petersasteria, @currentloser, @makeitworse, @sherxoo, @aizshallnotbefound @breakmeoff ♥

#orig. fic #kang daesung x reader #kang daesung x reader fic #kang daesung #bigbangaprilchallenge #d-lite x reader #d-lite x reader fic #daesung x reader

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thezombieprostitute · 3 months ago

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Your Fixer: Breaking Point

Summary: A string of bad luck has you considering going back to your ex-husband.

Warnings: Manipulation, Mild violence. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part of the Yours AU

Fired. Again. You don't know what happened. Everything was going so well! You even had a wonderful performance review! But then one mistake, one upset high profile client, and it's all gone.

Maybe August was right. You'll never be anything without him.

You'd been so certain when you handed him the divorce papers. Certain he was holding you back, keeping you beneath him in every sense. And you had done well for the first several years after!

Then, after one party your luck seemed to turn south. The morning after your boss had complained about your behavior. You had no idea what he was talking about. Neither did your co-workers. But it didn't matter, you were fired.

Your coworkers were willing to be a reference and you were quick to find another job. Soon after, though, you were blindsided yet again. It felt like the universe was out to get you.

The library computers provided a good place to start looking into new jobs. You weren't sure you could find anything cheaper than the closet you call an apartment but at least you can find ways to cut spending while you applied to fast food jobs all day. Plus, if you stay put, you're less likely to have the urge to buy anything, right?

On the far end of the computer terminals, Jack O'Malley is discreetly keeping an eye on you. He'd been hired by your ex-husband to drive you back to him. "Preferably crawling, but I'll take what I get," Walker had sneered. He'd seen you at a work party and hated that you were doing so well without him.

Of course Jack took the job. So long as he prioritized Nick's work, he was allowed to take side jobs. Though only if they didn't break Nick's rules. This job was close to breaking a few of them but it straddled the line just enough Jack felt okay about it.

Well at least he used to feel okay about it. He'd heard those stories about abusers wanting to break strong people to make themselves feel better. He thought it was pop psych stuff. The abusers he'd seen went after weak people who wouldn't fight back. He had forgotten to account for kind people.

Jack looked into your history, and Walker's, in between bouts of getting you fired. You were a good person who'd had a bright future until Walker stepped in. The more Jack looked into Walker, the more he hated himself for taking the guy's money.

And now you're here at the library. He's remotely connected to your terminal, seeing everything you're doing. Even after all you've been through, even with tears in your eyes, you're still looking for ways to survive on your own. Jack can't help but be in awe of your strength.

He knows he should probably tell you what's been going on. Give you the evidence to take to the police or something. But the police aren't always reliable in these matters and Jack's never been good at the direct route.

The idea comes to him in a flash. He quickly writes up an email to Nick, attaching some of the worst evidence against August, leaving out some of his own influence on your current situation. He asks permission to help you out, keep you from going back to your loser ex.

After he sends the email he doesn't wait for permission. He posts an impromptu job opening that he'll make sure you find. Might get a few other unwanted applicants but that'll just make the interview feel more legitimate. He doesn't actually need an assistant, but that'll just make your job that much easier. And who doesn't love easy money?

He gets a reply from Nick:

Send Rogers to punch the mustache off him. If he wanted his wife to stay he should've treated her better.

Relieved Jack gets back to work making sure you find and apply for the fake job.

Jack returns to his apartment feeling good. You'd applied for the job and he was going to make sure to call you tomorrow about it. Maybe look up a few tasks you could do for him to make things feel legitimate.

He stops in his tracks when he sees Nick in his living room. With a knife.

"That request you sent me earlier, Jack? I know that wasn't the whole truth."

Jack's mouth is dry, his blood turned to ice.

"You shouldn't have taken this job. We're supposed to be making our people feel safe. Word gets out we forced a woman to go crawling back to her asshole ex, people lose faith in us. Maybe stop being so willing to pay us. Then it becomes a whole mess."

Jack nods, not trusting himself to speak.

"But, you're making amends in your own way," Nick cheerfully says, putting away his knife. "You're going to take very good care of this girl, right? Gonna fix all her problems?"

Jack nods, "yes, Sir."

"Good." Nick goes to walk by him but, faster than Jack can react, Nick kicks his leg, dropping him to his knees. He pulls Jack's hair, exposing his neck, and brings the knife back out, pressing it just enough to draw blood.

"You do something stupid like this again and I'll make sure you get made an example of," he growls. "Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Jack whimpers.

Nick removes the knife and pushes Jack's torso onto the ground before walking out of the apartment.

Jack takes in a deep breath. Yeah, lesson learned.

Tagging:

@alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989;

@lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

#jack o'malley #soft dark!jack o'malley x reader #jack o'malley x reader #jack o'malley x you #jack o'malley x female reader #jack o'malley x f!reader #soft dark!jack o'malley x you #soft dark!jack o'malley x female reader #soft dark!jack o'malley x f!reader #dark!jack o'malley x reader #dark!jack o'malley x you #dark!jack o'malley x female reader #dark!jack o'malley x f!reader

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etoileee · 5 months ago

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OMG A BATFAM SHIFTER IM LOSING IT RN. This might be a weird thing to ask and idk if it’s gonna make sense but can you tell us a bit about how your brothers are in your dr but like how they speak and stuff? like introverted or extroverted? how are they like in conversation? I know this is a bit of a loaded question sorry 😅

don’t worry you’re good! I’ll probably make posts about all of them individually going in depth but I hope I can answer your questions well enough to satisfy you! 😭

y’know, I call them assholes and dumbasses (as one does with their siblings) but I’ll admit to the fact that they are actually very proper gentlemen when it counts. bruce has them MANNERED. lots of “yes ma’am” and “yes sir” to anyone that’s older, service workers, basically everyone else they aren’t close to.

I think the way I’m going to go about this is give you some info about how they are, things they say, and in what context (hopefully all of this will make sense)

— RICHARD GRAYSON

out of all of them, he’s the most friendly and talkative, I’d say. I don’t know if you guys will know what I’m referencing but there’s this video of the weeknd talking backstage with fans and he’s like SUPER friendly and chatting up a storm and everyone in the comments is like “his friendly ahh” and “you can tell bro is canadian” THATS WHAT DICK REMINDED ME OF WHEN I FIRST SHIFTED LMAO people are usually pretty in shocked about how well spoken all of them are. that and with dick they are amused at the fact that he’s actually a sweetheart

his sense of humor is making people laugh but if you don’t he takes it personally and starts to tweak out a bit

things that dick has said that I think about often;

“…I know that hurts” *is watching me practice being en point”

*talking to a group of people and making them laugh*, *turns to look at me with a mischievous ass smile*, *mouths* “I’m good at this shit”

“why are you so fucking negative all the time? gimmie a lil toothy grin” *he says to a very grumpy and sleepy jason before being slapped*

— JASON TODD

him and tim are the most introverted ones in my dr. one thing about jason is he don’t give a damn LMFAO

not to say that he’s rude, he’s not (not unprovoked) but if we are in a social setting he doesn’t really talk unless spoken to, simply because he probably doesn’t care and is not interested in what is happening and would rather zone out or talk to somebody he does know and is close with. of course if someone he doesn’t know very well speaks to him he will be very respectful but he wont force himself to be overly talkative and go out of his way to be very friendly (again he’s not rude, just only has enough social battery to be a gentleman most of the time.)

blunt, dry ass humor that I appreciate very much. one of my favorite things about him is HE SWEARS SO GOOD IT MAKES ME GIGGLE

things that jason has said that I think about often;

“I didn’t give a fuck yesterday, I didn’t give a fuck today, and I’m probably not gonna give a fuck tomorrow”

*watches me, tim, and dick build the notre dame lego from the dark stairs in the foyer looking like a weirdo and menacing as hell* “…can I help?”

“don’t piss me off” - his favorite things to say

— TIM DRAKE

a true ambivert. as I mentioned he and jason are the most introverted but tim will talk to anyone that will listen tbh. he could go on and on about certain topics and honestly I really like to hear him speak because he is so well spoken and passionate about certain things. all of them are pretty well articulated but he is the most well articulated. he’s the more quiet sweetheart of the family that’s also a NERD. if you do speak to him, just know he will absolutely give his heart and soul into that conversation

he has very clever humor (he kind of reminds me of like an english man) that you honestly might not get if you don’t know anyone like him and if you don’t understand what he said he’s like “oh okay…” awkward as hell

things that tim has said that I think about often;

*us watching a korean movie together* “did you know that korean is one of the most isolated languages in the world?”

*Burce complimenting damian* “yeah he’s got a face for radio” - tim

“what the hell that have to do with the tea prices in china?”

— DAMIAN WAYNE

the most unserious, chaos causing mf EVER. he’s also one of the more extroverted people in the family up there with dick. dick is the more charming friendly one and damian is like… I don’t even know. of course he is still respectful but he’s the least formal out of everyone. he’s more worried about having a fun conversation and not one with forced formal wording. for example if someone calls him “mister wayne” he’s like “ew please call me damian”. I’ve also heard people say things like “you can tell he’s the youngest brother” and yeah tbh he’s fun and annoying. what else could you want?

his humor is quoting spongebob

things that damian has said that I think about often;

“THIS IS SO LUXXXX” *he yells as he tries on bruces rolex*

*awkward ass silence anywhere* “imagine all the peopleeeeee” (he kinda serves vocals during this tbh)

“MY DIET DOCTOR KELP?” *damian yells in disbelief in the car since he didn’t get his doctor pepper from the drive thru*

#shifting #dcu #dc universe #dc comics #batman #batfam #richard grayson #dick grayson #nightwing #richard grayson x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #reality shifting #shifting motivation

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fincoolguy · 4 months ago

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JANE THE KILLER (THIS TOOK 12HOURS/SRS)

HELLO TUMBLR I AM . VERY TIRED BUT HERES MY JANE THE KILLER ART HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH 😃😃😃😃😃

my (VERY IMPORTANT) Jane the killer headcanons (I might explain them in some more detail tomorrow so follow for that hehe):

in MYworld she’s a 20 something not cishet bitch who

1. Thinks of Jeff (the killer) as her friends cringe younger brother

2. Views the Jane the killer sona as a drag persona/uses it to explore art and makeup and stuff . (Pidgindoll’s masks were heaaaavy inspo for this)

3. Is a goth bitch with a buzzcut and barely any eyebrows (she likes to have a “blank canvas” to experiment w makeup and wigs on when she isn’t in her sona bc hint hint it’s fun and self expression + Sally LOOOVES helping shave her head . Jane is such a big sister to Sally and Nina auauauauuauauauaau)

4. definitely helps Nina dye her hair / facilitates any tea party dolling up that Sally might request (read: Put slenderman in a wig 🔥🔥h

Also when Jeff finds out about #3 he starts hating women because he realizes that maybe she doesn’t actually give a shit about him/thinks he’s cringe (he thinks he’s the coolest guy out there) (he starts watching Andrew Tate) (I’ve said it before Jeff is a cringey fucking 14yo who will one day look back on his behavior in utter horror) (also Jeff might be an egg) (gets Jeff the killed for that last parenthetical)

I LOVE Jane the killer and before I made this I didn’t love her as much as I should have I think 🙁 but now I see the light

in post: titled, untitled, and close ups of the two portraits (left in main piece: her w the mask and right is her w/o)

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ladykailitha · 8 months ago

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The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 4

Just a heads up tomorrow is the start of my posting hiatus. I will still do WIP Wednesdays and will be posting headcanons and stuff like that during that time. I will begin posting again on Sunday Sept. 1st. I haven't decided which story will get each slot, or if I just post based on vibes. Most likely vibes if I'm honest.

In this we get the first of Eddie's presents to Steve, Eddie refutes the stupid Steve charges, and Steve remembers something important that he forgot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Steve was living it up in the pool. His parents had an outdoor heated pool, but it was more for leisure than laps because of it’s weird oblong shape. But this? It had an outdoor pool, but the indoor pool was Olympic sized. Like proper with the lane lines painted on the bottom and everything.

So he practiced his backstroke and butterfly. And by the time he got out his muscles were deliciously sore and his skin was wrinkly. He showered and then padded over to the sauna to relax his ache muscles.

As he was the only one there, he set the temperature to slightly hotter than warm but not scorching. He wanted to rest his muscles not sweat out every toxin in his body. Once he was feeling good enough, he got dressed and walked back to his hotel.

He looked at the swimsuit in his hand and realized he wouldn’t have do laundry here if he didn’t want to. Wow. His mom always made him do his laundry even though they had a maid who would wash his parents’.

Steve looked at his watch and decided it was time for some dinner. He threw the swimsuit into the laundry basket and went to go blow dry his hair. He pulled out his but then noticed the one already on the counter. His eyes flicked between the two and there was no doubt that the one the hotel provided was way better than his.

He put his back in his bag and turned on the hotel’s hair dryer. It never overheated or would start to smell half way through the process. He ran a little gel through his hair and spritzed his hair three times with the hair spray.

He admired himself in mirror a moment. He was good looking. He knew that. But he never in his wildest dreams thought he had the looks to pull a rockstar. Like that was crazy levels of confidence. But looking in the mirror just now, maybe he could see what Eddie saw.

Steve walked up the table that had his wallet and picked it up. He pulled out his fake ID, the one that got him this cushy hotel room. He wouldn’t be able to use it for god knows how long, but he wanted to keep it. As a memento of sorts. God. He was already feeling melancholic about the whole thing and it had only been five hours.

That was when he spotted it. On the bed was a big white box. He frowned and walked up to it slowly. He wasn’t worried about people getting in. This was a hotel. It was probably put there by housekeeping or even the concierge. He knew better than to keep anything in his room that might interest a snoop.

He just wondered who gave it to him. He picked up the card and read it.

-To my little Canary

A parting gift from me.

Promise me you’ll wear it and think of me often

-Your Eddie

Steve lifted the lid of the box and inside was the most beautiful silk pajamas he had ever seen. It was a short-sleeved button up that stopped just an inch or so below the waistband of the matching shorts. The shorts themselves weren’t very long, not quite booty shorts level, but close. Both in a soft, light yellow color. Perfect for summer time.

He ran over to the phone and quickly dialed Eddie’s cellphone.

“Hello?” the warm, dulcet tones answered.

“Eddie?” Steve asked, even he knew it was. He was just so excited.

“My little Canary,” Eddie purred. “I take it you got your present.”

“I did,” Steve said, twirling the cord around his finger. “They’re beautiful. I can’t wait to wear them tonight.”

“Good,” Eddie said, a smile evident in his tone. “I hope I go the size right. Did you do anything fun today?”

Steve told him all about his day swimming and the sauna. He even told him about the hair dryer because he was just that excited about it all.

“That sounds great, little Canary,” Eddie said, his fondness oozing through in his tone. “I’m sending someone by with a card that I will load money on so that you can get things like gas for your car and other things for your personal hygiene, as I assume you’ll want to buy that stuff yourself.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve found himself saying, almost against his will. “Could have gotten by with the hotel toiletries.”

Eddie chuckled. “Probably, but I wanted to give you the option of a choice.”

Steve blushed deeply, glad that Eddie couldn’t see him in that moment.

“Look, little Canary,” Eddie purred, “we just got to our location and I have to go, but I’ll call you after the show and tell you all about it.”

Steve bit his lip. “Yeah, I’ll talk then.”

He hung up after they said their goodbyes with a sigh. He flopped on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

Fucking hell. What was he even doing with his life?

His stomach growled. Well, for starters, he guessed he was going to dinner.

When Steve finished his meal, which was even better than breakfast...He never had a steak melt in his mouth like that before. It was so soft and buttery and the potatoes tasted of rosemary and garlic, the carrots were covered in a glaze that tasted of honey and something darker.

He shook his head.

Anyway.

When he finished his dinner he went back up to the room. He resolved that he would need to do more than just swimming to keep the delicious food off his waistline. He was going to have to check out the gym here.

Steve looked at the time and decided it was too early for bed, but he got into the new pajamas anyway. The shorts were pulled on first and fuck. Steve felt sinful just wearing the damn things. They cupped him in all the right places but when he moved or sat down they didn’t ride up or pinch. He seriously thought about not putting on the shirt at all. But the desire to see the full effect won out.

He pulled it on and buttoned it up. And just like the shorts, the top was form fitting but comfortable. The V in the neck from where the highest button went (it didn’t button all the way up) just showed a peek of his chest hair.

He admired himself in the mirror for several minutes before he forced himself to go back out to the suite.

Steve grabbed the remote and started flipping the channels. He was used to cable as his mother needed her HSN and his father needed the soccer score. Not because he was interested in the game, but because he’d bet on foreign games.

But either his parents only had basic cable or there were a bunch of new channels added recently. And he was willing bet it was the former.

He found a late night baseball game from a Japanese league and started watching that. He couldn’t understand the announcers and he didn’t know the players’ names, but it was still baseball, regardless the language.

Before he knew it the game was over and it was late at night, finally time for bed. He got all snuggled into bed when the phone rang.

“‘Ello?” he muttered sleepily.

“Oh, darlin’,” the warm tones caressed his ear, “did I wake you?”

Steve hummed in the negative. “Just getting ready to sleep. Tell me all about selling out Indy.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “I’d ask you how you knew Corroded Coffin sold out tonight, but you spent all of last night surrounded by my fans. Even the stupidest person on the planet would have had to pick something up.”

“Mhmm,” Steve murmured. “That’s me, stupidest person on the planet.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two. “Who says you’re dumb, baby?”

“My parents,” he said softly, “my first girlfriend before I realized I was gay, my ex-boyfriend, you know the one my parents kicked me out for? And um...the kids I babysat for are all like super geniuses, so they get frustrated with me a lot.”

“Oh my little Canary,” Eddie cooed. “You’re not dumb. School smarts isn’t everything. I’m living proof of that.”

“That’s true,” Steve said, a little less sad. “I’m talking to a bona fide rockstar.”

“Hell yeah you are,” Eddie agreed. “But let me tell you about my night and see if I can’t lull you to sleep with the sound of my voice.”

“I’d really like that.”

So that’s what Eddie did, he talked and talked until he could hear the soft little snuffling of snores from his Canary.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

When Steve woke up the next morning, the phone was still dangling off the cradle from where it fallen the night before when he fell asleep listening to Eddie.

Eddie had a great talking voice. Dude should do books on tape or voice acting or something. Maybe he’d tell him the next time he called.

He stretched and yawned. He woke up just as well rested today as he had yesterday. Which meant that as good as the sex was, and it was amazing, it wasn’t as big a factor in his night’s sleep as he thought.

He got up and went to go grab a shower. He hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, as he had used the swimming pool’s showers yesterday. He ordered breakfast and then hopped into the shower, telling them to just come in and leave it next the sofa.

He dried off with one of the most luxurious towels.

Steve stopped for a moment. He really needed to stop comparing the hotel to the life he led before being kicked out. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t even in the same state let alone ball park. His life here would always be miles away from the life he left behind.

New cage, same as the old cage really except real gold instead of merely gilded. Better food, furniture, amenities. Same limitations. Can’t drink, but he could smoke.

So he went out on the balcony to do just that. He brought his food out with him and just smoked, watching the busy crowd below him.

Oh shit!

He scrambled back inside the hotel room and fumbled around for his wallet. He pulled out a little laminated card and dialed the one on the top.

“Henderson residence, Claudia speaking,” the warm motherly voice answered.

“Mrs. Henderson,” Steve whined, almost in tears at the sound of her voice.

“Steve?” she asked gently. “Oh I was wondering when you were going to call. Dustin has been worried sick. He went to Family Video yesterday to return “Ghostbusters” and the snooty girl at the counter said you’d been fired for sodomy!”

He winced a little at the harsh word she used. “I–I’m gay, Mrs. Henderson,” he whimpered into the phone. This was it, she was going to turn him away too. Forbid Dustin from seeing him, then it would get around to the all the other parents and he wouldn’t be able to be around Holly or Will. And–

“Ah...” she said, just as gentle and warm as before. “Can you help it? Can you choose who you love?”

“No, ma’am,” he whispered, hanging his head between his shoulders.

“Then why would I care?” Claudia huffed in annoyance. “The first thing a mother should learn is to love your child no matter what, no matter who. Now, if Dusty gives you a hard time, you let me know. You hear?”

Steve felt a swell of pride in his chest, she might have not had been his real mother, but he should have known better than to bet against Claudia Henderson.

“Here, let me go get him,” she said softly. “Would you like me to explain it to him first?”

A lump formed in his throat as he choked down tears. He forgot he wasn’t isolated. He wasn’t cut off completely from people.

“Yeah,” he said, his lip quivering. “If you would.”

“Of course, sweetie,” Claudia said warmly. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve didn’t have long to wait. Soon there was the sound of Dustin practically screaming in his ear.

“Hey, bud,” he said when he could finally get a word in.

There was a sniffle. “Why didn’t you call me and Ma? We would have taken you in.”

Steve’s heart swelled again, this time in utter love for this butthead. “Because my dad would have seen to it that she lost her job at the library and with your dad having just passed, I couldn’t do that to you, to either of you, okay?”

There was another sniffle. “Okay...”

“Here,” Steve said, “I can’t tell you where I am right now, because no doubt my dad is trying to run me out of town, but I can give you a phone number to call. I might not always be there, but you can leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

“I guess that’s acceptable,” Dustin huffed. “Can I tell everyone you’re okay?”

Everyone meant his kids. Max, Elle, Will, Mike, Lucas, and Erica. And well, Holly, too. But she was too young to really understand what was going on. Technically Erica should be in that same category but she was too smart to be left out. Steve didn’t even bother trying most days.

“Yeah, bud,” he murmured. “You can tell people I’m safe. Just keep the number to yourself for now. I don’t want my dad knowing where I am.”

“Roger that!” Dustin said.

They talked for a few moments longer before Claudia took the phone back.

“I’m going to call the PTA calling tree,” she said, “and get the word out that you’ll be unavailable to babysit for the foreseeable future.”

Steve hummed. “I think that’s the part that upsets me the most about all this shit.”

“I know, sweetie,” Claudia assured him. “But we’ll figure it out.”

And he was absolutely certain if anyone could, it was Claudia Henderson.

He let out a sigh of relief for the first time since he was kicked out.

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tag List: CLOSED MAX LIMIT 50 REACHED!!!

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #age difference #ten years between steve and eddie

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