#we all know the people we will nod at when we see them. so why no word?

[rafayelxsylusho]

How do the LADS men fu¢k the jealousy out of you.

Xavier/Rafayel

Already working on Caleb/Zayne/Sylus

TW: SMUT SMUT AND MORE SMUT.

Xavier 🌟🌟

The training session had been grueling, as all of all of your sessions tended to be. You pushed the new recruits hard, demanding perfection in every drill and exercise. They needed to be in peak form to face the horrors that awaited them out there in the No-Hunt Zones, battling the vicious creatures known as Wanderers.

The training session had wrapped up, and Xavier was wiping sweat from his brow with a towel, his chest heaving slightly from exertion. That's when you noticed the gaggle of giggling girls from his team hovering nearby, all batting their eyelashes at him and whispering to each other.

Typical. You could practically see the hearts floating above their heads as they fawned over their fearless leader. It was always the same - his reputation as the most successful Hunter in Linkon City tended to have that effect on people. Especially the young, impressionable rookie girls fresh out of training.

As you watched the scene unfold, a flicker of annoyance flashed across your face. The way they kept asking question after question, giggling at every word that fell from Xavier's lips, was starting to get on your nerves.

Don't they have anything better to do than hang around him like a pack of lovestruck puppies? you thought to yourself, feeling a twinge of possessiveness. This was hardly the first time you'd witnessed such a display, but it was no less grating.

Shaking your head, you decided to head to the locker room and get cleaned up after the long day of training. As you walked away, you couldn't help but overhear snippets of their conversation:

"...did you really kill 70,000 Wanderers all by yourself?" a blonde girl gushed.

"And with a sword, no less! I can't believe you wield it with such skill and precision," another chimed in.

You turned on the shower, letting the hot water cascade over your body as you tried to wash away the irritation. But even as you stood there, the image of them hanging off Xavier kept flashing through your mind.

Little did you know, the seeds of jealousy planted by their behavior would only grow more tangled and thorny as the day went on.

As you stepped out of the shower and started dressing you overheard two of the girls from Xavier's team. They were huddled together, whispering and giggling, clearly gossiping about their beloved leader. You froze, not wanting them to know you were within earshot, as they continued their hushed conversation.

"I swear, I've seen him around the headquarters a bunch of times, but he's never mentioned anyone special," the first girl said, her voice dripping with a mix of curiosity and envy. "Maybe he's just too focused on hunting to settle down with anyone."

"I don't know, Sarah. A guy like that? I bet he has girls throwing themselves at him all the time," the second girl, whose name you didn't catch, speculated. "Did you see the way some of the new recruits were fawning over him today? I'm surprised he can even walk with all that ego inflating!"

Just then, the second girl's eyes widened. "Oh my god, what if... what if he's actually gay? That would explain why he's never been spotted with anyone."

Sarah scoffed. "No way. I've seen the way he looks at y/n. Trust me, he's into girls... and I don't think he's the type to hide it if he was seeing someone."

"Well, if he's not taken, then maybe one of us should make a move. I mean, he's just so... captivating. Those piercing blue eyes, that chiseled jaw, that amazing body..." She sighed dreamily.

Her friend nodded eagerly, a similar starstruck look on her face. "I know, right? And he's so brave and skilled too. He's like, the total package."

Sarah giggled conspiratorially. "So what do you say, Lisa? Should we have a little competition to see who can get his attention first? Loser buys the winner dinner at that fancy new restaurant downtown?"

Lisa licked her lips, a determined glint in her eye. "You're on, Sarah. But I warn you - I play to win. That hottie is mine!"

You slam the door of your locker hard enough to make the metal clang and rattle. The room fell silent for a moment before the whispers restarted, more subdued this time.

As you exited the locker room, you couldn't shake the feeling that their stupid gossip had only added to the growing uneasiness you felt about Xavier's apparent single status.

Why hasn't he mentioned me? Does he not want people to know about us? Or is he just so used to women throwing themselves at him that he doesn't think he needs to bother? you wondered, your mind racing with increasingly paranoid thoughts

As you stepped out of the locker room, you were greeted by the sight of Xavier leaning casually against the wall across the hall, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked up as you approached, a warm smile spreading across his handsome face.

"Hey there," he greeted you, pushing off from the wall and falling into step beside you as you made your way out of the Hunters Association headquarters. "I was starting to think you might have snuck out the back way to avoid me." He chuckled, playfully nudging your shoulder with his own.

As you walked together, you couldn't shake the lingering irritation from overhearing the other girls' conversation in the locker room. You knew it was silly to be jealous, but you couldn't help feeling a flare of possessiveness at the thought of anyone else trying to stake a claim on Xavier.

As the two of you walked hand in hand towards your apartment building, you decided to bring up the elephant in the room. Glancing up at Xavier, you asked him about his thoughts on the day's training session with his team.

"How was the training with your team today? How did it go?" you inquired, genuinely interested in his take on the day's events.

Xavier was quiet for a moment, considering his response. "It went well, actually. There were a couple of new girls who really stood out, to be honest. They were strong, quick learners, and seemed to have a real knack for the techniques I was teaching."

"Do you think they have a real shot at making it as Hunters?" you asked, genuinely curious what Xavier thought of their potential.

He was silent for a long moment, considering his next words carefully. "Hard to say. They have the physical capability, but being a successful Hunter takes so much more than just brawn. It requires heart, determination, and a deep commitment to protecting others. We'll see how they hold up under pressure in the long run."

Without really thinking about it, you let go of his hand, feeling the need to put some distance between the two of you.

"I think I'm going to sleep early tonight," you announced abruptly, hoping to cut the conversation short before your jealousy got the better of you. "I'm feeling really tired after today."

Xavier looked down at you, a flicker of concern in his blue eyes as he sensed the sudden shift in your mood. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, reaching out to gently squeeze your shoulder. "You've been quiet since we left the headquarters. Did something happen that I should know about?"

He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. "Look, I know today was a long day, but I was thinking... what if we stopped by that little hotpot place on our way home? We could share a meal and unwind a bit before calling it a night. My treat, of course."

Xavier smiled at you, hoping to coax a similar smile out of you in return. "Unless you'd rather just head home and collapse into bed. I completely understand if you're too tired to go out tonight." He kept his tone light and casual, not wanting to pressure you into anything, but secretly hoping you would agree to spend a little more time with him before the night was over.

As the jealous thoughts swirled in your mind, you felt your grip on your temper slipping away. Without really considering the harshness of your words, you blurted out your next sentence, your voice dripping with an unintended bitterness.

"No, but I think Sarah or Lisa would be more than happy to go with you instead," you snapped, immediately regretting the sharpness of your tone. As soon as the words left your lips, you wanted to take them back, but it was too late.

Xavier's eyes widened in surprise at your sudden outburst, and he stopped walking abruptly, forcing you to halt alongside him. He looked down at you, a mix of confusion and hurt flashing across his handsome face as he tried to process your jealous accusation.

"What are you talking about, y/n?" he asked slowly, his brow furrowing with concern. "Sarah and Lisa are on my team, yes, but that doesn't mean I have any intention of asking them out. Why would you even say something like that?"

Xavier stared at you, taken aback by your sudden outburst of jealousy. He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off abruptly.

"Forget it, okay? Just... just forget I said anything," you muttered, feeling your cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment. You couldn't believe you had let your jealousy get the best of you like that.

Without waiting for his response, you spun on your heel and stormed off down the sidewalk, leaving Xavier standing there looking bewildered. You knew you were being irrational, but you couldn't seem to control the green-eyed monster raging inside you.

As you neared your apartment building, you hesitated, part of you wanting to go back and apologize to Xavier, and another part of you stubbornly insisting that he should be the one to come after you, to reassure you that you were the only one he wanted.

Maybe I should just go inside and cool off, you thought to yourself, knowing that you were still too worked up to have a rational conversation at the moment. I'll apologize properly later, when I'm not so angry and jealous anymore.

As you fumbled with the key, your hands still shaking slightly from the lingering anger and emotion, you finally managed to unlock the door to your apartment. Stepping inside, you quickly turned to lock the door behind you, wanting nothing more than the solitude and safety of your private sanctuary.

But as your hand reached for the lock, you suddenly felt a presence behind you. Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun around, a gasp escaping your lips.

There, standing just a few feet inside the darkened apartment, was none other than Xavier. For a moment, you simply stared at him in shock, your eyes wide and your heart pounding in your chest. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, not the least of which was a fierce mix of relief and guilt.

Before you could even formulate an apology, Xavier began walking towards you with a determined stride. His blue eyes flashed with a mix of emotions - hurt, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite place. He stopped just a breath away from you, his tall frame looming over your own.

"Is that what you're going to do, y/n?" he asked, his voice low and intense. "You're going to act like a brat and accuse me of being interested in other girls, only to run off and try to slam the door in my face?"

Xavier shook his head slowly, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "I thought we were past this kind of jealousy and insecurity. I've never given you any reason to doubt me or question where my loyalties lie."

Xavier's grip tightened in your hair as he pulled you flush against his firm chest, his other hand coming up to grip your hip possessively. He tilted your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to meet his intense, smoldering gaze.

"Do you need a reminder of what you mean to me?" he growled, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire.

His lips crashed against yours in a searing, dominating kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. He kissed you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you thoroughly, leaving no doubt as to his intentions.

When he finally pulled back, you were both left panting and flushed, your bodies pressed so tightly together that you could feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat against your own.

"Only a fool would ever look at anyone else when they have you," Xavier rasped, his thumb brushing over your swollen lower lip. "You're all I see, y/n. You're all I want."

He stepped even closer, if that was possible, until you were pinned helplessly between his hard, muscular body and the wall behind you.

"I had other plans for tonight," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "Like holding you close, feeding you a nice dinner, and then slowly, gently making love to you all night long until we both collapsed from exhaustion."

Xavier's hand slid from your hip to grip your ass, squeezing the supple flesh possessively as he ground his hardening cock against your belly. "But it seems like you need a different kind of reminder first."

His other hand released your hair to grip your jaw, tilting your head to the side to expose the column of your throat. "So I'm going to fuck the jealousy out of you," he growled, his teeth grazing your pulse point. "I'm going to fuck you so hard and so thoroughly that the only thought in your pretty little head will be my name."

Xavier's lips latched onto your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin as his hands roamed greedily over your curves. "And then, once I've erased every trace of doubt from your mind, I'm going to fuck you all over again, until you're drowning in pleasure and completely overwhelmed by the knowledge that I belong to you."

He nipped sharply at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue. "Does that sound good, baby? Or do you need more convincing?" Xavier purred, his voice a sinful promise of all the deliciously wicked things he intended to do to your willing body.

Xavier silenced your attempted apology with another searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth and leaving you breathless. When he finally pulled back, his eyes flashed with a dark, hungry intensity.

"Apology not accepted," he growled, his voice rough with desire and a hint of anger. "You wanted to be a brat, so now you're going to be treated like one."

His hands made quick work of your clothes, practically tearing them from your body in his haste to bare your flesh to his greedy gaze. Buttons popped and fabric ripped, the sound of destruction filling the air as Xavier laid waste to your wardrobe.

In a matter of moments, you stood before him, naked and vulnerable, your skin flushed and tingling from his rough touches. Xavier drank in the sight of you, his eyes burning with a fierce, possessive hunger.

"Look at you," he rasped, his large hands skimming over your curves. "Feel how hard you make me, baby?" Xavier panted against your lips, his hips rolling in a slow, filthy grind. "You're going to take care of that later, with your cunt. But first..."

His fingers plunged deep inside your fluttering channel, pumping in and out of your tight heat with a punishing rhythm.

Xavier paused, his fingers still buried deep inside your clenching heat as he gazed at you with an intense, searching look. His brow furrowed as he studied your flushed and panting face, his thumb circling your clit with maddeningly light touches.

"Tell me what got you so jealous baby," he demanded, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. "I want to hear you say it out loud. I want to know exactly what made you doubt me, doubt us, like this."

His other hand slid up your side, cupping the soft swell of your breast, his fingers sinking into the pliant flesh. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, pinching and tugging at the sensitive peak until it stiffened into a hard, aching point.

“Ngh-Xav—” The whimpers just won’t stop spilling from your lips, his gaze drilling into your eyes and falling straight to your drenching cunt. “I- fuck-”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice a dark, commanding rumble.

"Talk to me like a big girl, y/n," he growled, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Use your words, baby. 

His fingers pumped faster inside your dripping cunt, his palm grinding against your clit with each thrust. The obscene sound of your arousal filled the room as Xavier fingered you hard and fast, determined to wring an answer from your lips.

"Sarah and Lisa they were saying.....ah fuckkk!" You try to tell him about what you heard but his fingers are still deep inside you hitting the perfect spot.

"Sarah and Lisa?" he repeated, a sharp edge to his voice. "You're jealous because of them? Because of my teammates?"

He withdrew his fingers from your clenching heat abruptly, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could protest, he spun you around and bent you over the arm of the couch, your bare ass and dripping pussy on full display.

Xavier delivered a sharp smack to your ass, the sound echoing through the room. "Let me make one thing crystal fucking clear," he snarled, rubbing the reddening flesh. "I. Am. Not. Interested. In. Them."

Another smack landed on your other cheek, harder than the first. "The only reason they were even talking to me was because we were discussing strategy and team dynamics. Nothing more, nothing less."

He gripped your hips punishingly, yanking you back against the thick ridge of his cock. "You're the only one I want, y/n. The only one I crave. The only one I fucking love." To punctuate his words, Xavier thrust his hips forward, grinding his clothed erection against your soaked folds.

Xavier knelt down behind you, his strong hands gripping your thighs and pushing your legs apart. He forced your knees to bend, opening you wide and exposing your glistening, needy sex to his hungry gaze.

"Keep these legs spread for me, baby," he commanded, his voice low and rough with desire."I want to see this pretty pussy as I eat it."

With that, he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue along your slit, savoring your tangy essence with a low moan. He licked and suckled at your folds, his skilled mouth reducing you to a writhing, mewling mess in record time.

He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue flicking over the swollen bud with expert precision. Two fingers plunged deep into your clenching channel, pumping in and out of your soaked heat.

"Mmm, sweet girl making such a mess" Xavier purred, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh.

He spat directly onto your dripping, glistening folds, watching as fresh waves of your arousal gushed out to coat his chin and drip down onto the couch below. Without hesitation, he leaned in and began to lap at the slickness, sucking and slurping up every drop of your essence.

"Your taste is intoxicating," he groaned, his tongue delving deeper to plunder your fluttering channel. "I could spend hours feasting on this pretty pussy and never get enough."

Xavier's hands slid higher, gripping the globes of your ass and kneading the pliant flesh. He spread you wider, opening you fully to his relentless onslaught as he ate you like a man possessed.

"Please, don't stop," you whimper, your hips bucking needily against his face as you desperately seek more of that blissful friction.

Xavier pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal as he fixed you with a stern, disapproving glare. He released your thighs, allowing them to close with a soft, intimate sound, then you feel him gripping your hips and pulling you to straddle his lap.

"No," he said firmly, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Good girls get everything they want. Brats like you don't get to cum when they need it."

He punctuated his words with a sharp smack to your ass, the stinging pain sending a jolt through your body. Xavier rubbed the reddening flesh soothingly.

"Since you seem determined to act like a spoiled brat, I think it's only fitting that you be treated as one," he said, a wicked glint in his eye. "You can sit here and squirm on my lap, feeling my hard cock through my pants, until I decide you've learned your lesson."

Xavier's other hand slid up your spine, wrapping around the nape of your neck. He tilted your head to the side, exposing the slender column of your throat to his hungry mouth. He licked and nipped at the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing your pulse point.

He rocked his hips upwards, grinding his rigid length against your aching, empty sex. The thin fabric of his pants created a maddening barrier between you, allowing you to feel the shape and size of him but denying you the sweet friction you craved.

"Be a good brat and sit still," Xavier ordered, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "We have all night long for me to teach you the consequences of jealousy and insecurity."

Xavier's fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper, freeing his thick, hard cock from his pants. The moment his length sprang out, he gripped your hips and lifted you slightly, allowing his shaft to slap against your dripping, swollen clit a couple times in quick succession.

"Feel that, baby?" he whispered, his voice rough and heavy with desire. "Feel how hard you make me? How much I want you?"

He pinched your nipple hard, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers as he continued his torturous teasing. Each pass of his cockhead over your aching clit sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, stoking the fire in your core.

His cockhead pushing against your entrance before sliding back up to bump against your clit. He set a maddeningly slow, teasing rhythm, denying you the deep penetration you desperately craved.

"Please..." you whimpered, your body writhing in his lap as you tried to chase more of that glorious friction. "Please, Xavier...I need...I need..."

"Need what, sweetgirl?" he purred, a wicked glint in his eye as he watched you squirm. "Tell me what you need. Use your words, brat."

His hand slid from your breast to your thigh, gripping it tightly as he spread your leg further to the side. This new position allowed him to grind the thick ridge of his cock directly against your dripping slit, the head catching on your entrance with each torturous thrust.

"Tell me how badly you want it," Xavier growled, his voice a dark, sinful rumble. "Tell me what it would feel like to have my big, hard cock stretching out your tight little cunt. Filling you up so deep and so fucking full..."

He punctuated his words with a sharp, sudden thrust, his cockhead popping inside your entrance before quickly pulling back out. The brief, fleeting sensation of fullness only served to heighten your desperate arousal and frustration.

Xavier's eyes darkened with lust as he watched your eyes flutter shut, your head lolling back in ecstasy with each maddeningly slow thrust. The needy, desperate sounds spilling from your lips only fueled his own desire, his cock throbbing and leaking against your soaked folds.

"That's it, baby," he purred, his voice a low, wicked rumble. "Let me hear how much you want it. Let me hear how badly you need my cock."

He gripped your thighs tighter, spreading your legs wider as he ground his hips against yours with ruthless precision. Each pass of his cockhead over your aching clit sent electric shocks of pleasure zipping up your spine, your back arching as you chased the sensation.

"Please, Xavier..." you whimpered, your voice breaking on a desperate moan. "Please fuck me. I need your cock so badly. I need you to fill me up and fuck me hard and don't stop until I'm screaming your name..."

"Since you asked so nicely, baby..." he growled against your lips, his voice rough and heavy with desire. "I suppose I can give you what you need."

Xavier gripped your hips tightly, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he lifted you up with a grunt of effort. He positioned your dripping, aching sex directly over his throbbing, engorged cock, the swollen head nudging against your entrance with a teasing promise of the pleasure to come.

With that, he surged upwards, driving his thick, pulsing shaft deep into your tight, clenching heat. Your body stretched deliciously around his girth as he hilts inside you, his heavy balls coming to rest against your ass with a lewd slap.

"FUCK!" you both screamed in unison as your bodies joined, your voices echoing off the walls.

Xavier gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he guided your movements. "That's it, baby. Ride me just like that," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Use these sexy legs and fuck yourself on my cock until you make yourself cum."

He leaned forward, capturing your nipple between his teeth. He bit down just hard enough to make you gasp, sending a jolt of pained pleasure straight to your core. At the same time, one of his hands slid around to grip your ass, spreading your cheeks and tilting your hips to take him even deeper.

"That's it. Fuck...I can feel you getting closer," he groaned, his hot breath washing over your breast. "Your cunt is squeezing me so fucking tight."

Xavier's grip tightened on your hips as he watched your core slide up and down his shaft, your velvet walls clenching and fluttering around him with each upward glide. The exquisite sensation of your silken heat gripping his cock so tightly sent a surge of primal lust crashing through his veins, his balls drawing up tight against his body as his own release approached.

"That's it, baby. Fuck...keep squeezing my cock just like that," he growled, his voice a low, guttural rumble. 

The words “C-cumming-” are barely starting words out of your mouth before it crashes into you headfirst. You arch your spine into the perfect semi-circle as your orgasm crashed over you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your fingers clawing at his skin as you clung to him for dear life, your cries of ecstasy filling the room.

"Fuck....fuck..fu...!" Xavier roared, his voice echoing off the walls as your velvet walls clamped down on his cock like a vice. The sensation of your cunt spasming and fluttering around his shaft pushed him over the edge, his own release slamming into him.

He slammed his hips upwards one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside your quivering heat as his cock jerked and pulsed. Thick, hot ropes of cum painted your insides, coating your walls with his seed as he emptied himself inside you with a guttural groan.

Xavier's body shuddered and jerked as he rode out the aftershocks of his intense climax, holding your trembling form tightly against his chest. He peppered your neck and shoulder with soft kisses, his hands roaming over your curves possessively as he slowly came down from the high of his release.

Xavier tangled his fingers in your hair, gripping the silky strands gently as he tilted your head back to look up at him. His blue eyes searched yours intensely, the emotion and sincerity in their depths making your heart flutter in your chest.

He brushed a tender kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a long moment. "I meant what I said before. I love you more than anything in this world or any other. You're my everything, my reason for living."

"Believe me, my love," he murmured, his voice a low, fervent whisper. "No one can ever take your place in my heart. It belongs to you, completely and utterly, now and forever."

Rafayel 🐡

Rafayel was already awake, his mind too restless to sleep any longer. He sat on the balcony of the resort hotel, watching the sun begin to peek over the horizon. The desert landscape seemed to glow in the early morning light, the sand dunes casting long shadows across the barren expanse.

He heard the sound of your footsteps approaching and turned to see you emerge from the bedroom, your hair still tousled with sleep. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he took in your appearance, remembering the feel of your body pressed against his as you slept.

Rising from the balcony chair, he crossed the distance between you and took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. His eyes met yours, a flicker of mischief dancing in their purple-pink depths.

"Good morning, my love," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep. "I have to run some errands at the art gallery today. Would you come with me? I promise it won't take long."

He knew he was being selfish, asking you to accompany him. But the thought of spending even a moment away from you was unbearable, especially in a place like this that felt so foreign and oppressive to him. He needed your presence, your calming influence, to ground him.

"Fine, but you have to invite me some dinner after" you say rubbing the sleep off your eyes.

Rafayel leaned back and laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief and gratitude. "Dinner it is," he agreed, his voice warm with a newfound lightness. "I know a little place not far from here, a local gem hidden away in the back alleys of the city. They serve the most divine seafood, as fresh as if it was caught that very day."

An hour later, you emerged from the bedroom dressed for the day ahead. Rafayel had already finished getting ready, looking devastatingly handsome in a crisp linen shirt the color of a summer sky and tailored trousers that hugged his lean frame. He leaned against the wall opposite the bedroom door, his arms crossed over his chest and a playful smirk on his lips as he watched you approach.

"Well, don't you look good enough to eat," he purred, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you in a few quick strides. His hands came up to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he dipped his head down to steal a heated kiss. He lingered for a long moment, savoring the taste of your lips and the feeling of your body pressed against his.

As you ate breakfast, Rafayel couldn't keep his eyes off of you. He watched as you bit into a piece of fruit, your lips parting and your tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of juice. He felt a surge of desire rush through him, his body responding to the simple, intimate gesture with a fervor that surprised even him.

He reached across the table and took your hand in his own, squeezing your fingers gently as he leaned in closer to you. "I'm so glad you agreed to come with me today," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "I don't think I could have faced that place alone."

As you guys arrived at the gallery, a sense of unease began to creep over Rafayel. He had been looking forward to seeing Thomas and discuss some important business matters they had to attend to. However, as you stepped inside the cool, air-conditioned space, Rafayel's brow furrowed in confusion.

As you turned a corner, Rafayel spotted a note taped to the wall, the paper fluttering slightly in the breeze from the AC vent. He released your hand and stepped forward, plucking the note from the wall and unfolding it with a sense of growing trepidation.

The note was from Thomas, the handwriting hurried and slightly illegible.

Thomas wrote that something urgent had come up, a family emergency that required his immediate attention. He apologized for not being there and promised to make it up to Rafayel soon. However, he also mentioned that there was a package waiting for Rafayel in his office, something important that he needed to deal with right away.

"Well, I suppose you'll just have to play the role of my assistant for the day," he murmured " And i can't leave without my important...package"

" I wouldn't call myself a package"

Rafayel's head snapped towards the source of the voice, his body tensing up as he recognized the redhead girl emerging from the office. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something like irritation and unease flashing across his face before it settled into a blank, guarded expression.

Releasing you from his embrace, Rafayel took a step back, putting a bit of distance between your bodies. He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw tightening as he regarded the girl warily.

It was clear he knew her, though from the look on his face, not particularly well or fondly. There was a history there, something unspoken that hung heavy in the air between them. Rafayel's posture was defensive, his body language radiating a subtle warning.

The girl smirked, her green eyes glinting with a smug satisfaction as she took in the scene before her - Rafayel's guarded stance, your confusion, the charged atmosphere. She was enjoying the clear discomfort radiating off of Rafayel, reveling in catching him off guard.

"Rafayel," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I've been waiting for you. I do hope I won't be kept waiting much longer"

Rafayel's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he met her gaze head on. "Celine," he acknowledged coolly, his voice tight. "I apologize for the delay. I had some...unexpected business to attend to first."

He glanced back at you, a silent apology and promise in his eyes before turning his attention back to Celine. "What brings you here? I thought we had an arrangement..."

Celine's lips curled into a sharp, wicked smile at Rafayel's words, a glint of triumph in her green eyes. She took a step closer to him, invading his personal space as she gazed up at him with a challenging smirk.

"Oh, I remember our arrangement perfectly, darling, but I'm afraid things have...changed. I need to discuss some new terms with you. In private"

She jerked her head towards the office, a clear gesture for him to follow her. There was a commanding edge to her voice, a tone that brooked no argument or refusal.

Rafayel's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he glared down at Celine. It was clear he was not pleased with this development, the interruption to his plans and the demand for a private audience. He glanced back at you, a flicker of apology and frustration in his eyes.

"I apologize, cutie," he said softly, his voice tight. "I won't be long. Wait for me here? "

He didn't wait for your response before turning on his heel and striding towards the office, Celine falling into step beside him. As they disappeared through the door, Rafayel cast one last lingering look your way, a silent promise that he would explain everything once he was free of this unexpected obligation.

Left alone in the gallery, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud. Who was this woman, and what hold did she have over Rafayel? And more importantly, what secrets were they hiding from you?

An hour had passed since Rafayel had disappeared into the office with Celine, each minute feeling like an eternity as you waited anxiously in the gallery. The once vibrant space now felt cold and sterile, the art on the walls losing their luster as worry gnawed at you.

Unable to bear the suspense any longer, you made your way towards the office, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached the closed door. You raised your hand, knuckles poised to rap against the wood, when you heard the muffled sound of raised voices from within.

Rafayel's voice, low and angry, cut through the silence. "I can't believe you're doing this, Celine. I thought we had an understanding."

Celine's voice, sharp and mocking, followed. "Circumstances change, darling. And you're hardly in a position to refuse me anything."

You froze, your hand hovering inches from the door as you strained to hear more. But the voices fell silent, a tense, heavy quiet descending upon the office.

With a deep breath, you knocked firmly on the door, your nerves on edge. "Rafayel? It's me. I'm going to step out for a bit, maybe do some shopping. I'll call you when I'm done, alright?"

As you approached the office door, ready to knock once more, Celine emerged from within. She stepped out, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she paused, looking you up and down with a critical, almost disdainful eye.

Celine's gaze lingered on you for a long moment, a smirk playing at the corners of her painted lips. She lifted a hand, pretending to wipe at the corner of her mouth with a dainty finger, a mocking gesture that sent a chill down your spine.

She tsked softly, shaking her head as she stepped closer to you. There was a wicked glint in her green eyes, a cruel amusement that made your skin crawl.

"Look who it is. Rafayel's little pet, come to check on her master?"

Celine circled you like a shark, her heels clicking an ominous rhythm on the floor. She leaned in closer, her perfume washing over you, the scent cloying and overwhelming.

"I must say, darling, she purred, her breath hot against your ear. You don't look like you have what it takes to keep a man like Rafayel satisfied. I do hope you're not feeling...inadequate?"

She threw her head back and laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the gallery. The cruelty in her eyes was unmistakable, the malice behind her words impossible to ignore.

Celine smirked at your stunned silence, your obvious discomfort clearly amusing her. She took a step back, smoothing down her tailored suit jacket with a self-satisfied air.

"Well, this has been...enlightening," she commented, a mocking lilt to her voice. She glanced down at her manicured nails, picking at a nonexistent speck of lint.

"But I must go and clean myself up. All this...business can be so messy, don't you think?"

With a final, cruel smile thrown your way, Celine turned on her heel and sauntered off, disappearing down the hallway towards the restrooms, leaving you standing there, your mind reeling.

With a sense of trepidation and growing unease, you pushed open the office door, the hinges creaking softly as it swung inward. As you stepped inside, your gaze fell upon Rafayel, seated behind the large mahogany desk that dominated the room.

He looked up as you entered, his purple-pink eyes meeting yours. There was a weariness in his expression, a tension in his shoulders that spoke of the difficult conversation he had just endured. The room was filled with a heavy, charged silence, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words and secrets.

"Don't let her get to you. Celine is...a complicated part of my past. But you don't need to worry about her.

"Is she now?" You ask, " well since she thinks I'm not good enough to keep you satisfied I think I know what kind of relationship you had"

Rafayel's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and hurt at your accusation. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the desk as he fixed you with an intense, almost accusing stare. The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the space.

He was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he seemed to struggle with how to respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tight, tinged with a bitterness you had never heard before.

"You think you know, but you have no idea," he bit out, his words sharp and cutting. "Celine and I...we had a business arrangement. Nothing more.

He paused, his eyes searching yours as if trying to gauge your reaction. There was a vulnerability in his gaze, a raw honesty that made your heart ache.

Rafayel leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he studied your jealous expression. His eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and something else, something darker and more intense.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" he murmured, a teasing lilt to his voice even as his gaze remained serious. "you think I can't see it written all over your face, my love?"

He stood slowly, rising to his feet and rounding the desk until he stood before you. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

As you turned to leave, unable to bear the tension and uncertainty any longer, Rafayel's hand shot out and caught your wrist in a firm grip. He pulled you back towards him, his eyes flashing with a sudden intensity.

"Where do you think you're going, cutie?" he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. Before you could respond, he had already crossed the room and closed the office door with a sharp click.

"I don't think I'm done with you just yet. We need to talk about this little...outburst of jealousy"

He stepped closer, backing you up until your back hit the door. His hands came up to grip your hips, pulling your body flush against his as he gazed down at you with a mix of amusement and something else, something darker and more primal.

"Tell me, y/n", he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Do you really think so little of me? Of us? I thought you knew me better than that... But it seems I was wrong."

Rafayel's hands slid down to grip the backs of your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lifted you effortlessly. He carried you towards the desk, sweeping aside the clutter of papers and art supplies before setting you down on the polished wood surface.

He stepped between your parted legs, his hands coming to rest on your knees as he leaned in close, his face mere inches from yours. The desk creaked softly beneath your combined weight, the sound echoing in the tense silence of the office.

His hands slid slowly up your thighs, his thumbs tracing teasing circles on the sensitive skin just below the hem of your skirt. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, could see the pulse jumping in his throat as he stared you down.

"I won't have you doubting me, doubting us", he said softly, but there was a steely undercurrent to his words. "Now, pretty...what makes you think you know the true nature of my relationship with Celine? What makes you think you know anything at all about the man you claim to love?"

As you began to stammer out an explanation, Rafayel silenced you by suddenly reaching between your thighs. His fingers deftly pushed your skirt up and out of the way, and in one sharp, aggressive motion, he ripped your panties clean off, the flimsy fabric tearing like tissue paper in his grasp.

You gasped, your body jolting at the sudden, intimate contact and the brutal destruction of your undergarment. Rafayel's eyes flashed with a wild, almost feral light as he watched your reaction, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Shhhhh", he hushed you, his fingers already delving beneath the tattered remains of your panties to stroke along your most sensitive flesh. "No more words out of your pretty mouth, my love. No more words at all."

He pushed your thighs further apart, making room for himself as he stepped even closer, the hard, muscular length of his body pressing against yours. His hand cupped your sex possessively, his thumb finding your clit and circling the tender bud with a maddening, teasing pressure.

Rafayel's hands gripped your ankles, pushing your feet up and outwards until your knees bent and your legs fell open, fully exposing you to his hungry gaze. Your skirt, now bunched up around your waist, left you bare and vulnerable, the tattered remnants of your ruined panties dangling off one ankle.

He drank in the sight of your naked, glistening sex, his eyes darkening with lust and a possessive intensity that made your heart race. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down, his breath hot and heavy against your most intimate flesh.

He leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue along your slit, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. He licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth with a low, approving groan.

"You taste like heaven" he murmured against your flesh, his words muffled and distorted by his greedy mouthing at your sex.

" Raf.....the door isn't locked" you warn him.

Rafayel paused briefly in his ministrations, glancing up at you with a wicked, almost defiant grin. He seemed not at all concerned by the possibility of being caught in such a compromising position.

"Let them come," he challenged, a reckless edge to his voice. "Let the whole fucking world see me claiming what's mine. I don't care anymore."

With that, he dove back in, his mouth latching onto your sex with a hunger that bordered on feral. His tongue pushed inside you, thrusting deep and hard, fucking you with a intensity that stole your breath.

One hand released your hip to slide up your body, pushing your shirt out of the way to expose your breasts. He palmed the soft mounds, his fingers sinking into the supple flesh as he rolled and plucked at your nipples.

Rafayel lifted his head, his lips glistening with your essence as he stared up at you with a wicked, challenging grin. He seemed to relish the idea of being caught in such a compromising position, of giving the world a peek into the dark, passionate side of his nature.

"The walls are thin here", he murmured, his voice low and rough with lust. "So it's up to you cutie, Do we keep your sweet cries of pleasure to ourselves...or do we let everyone outside hear just how much you love being fucked by me?"

As Rafayel's fingers pinched and rolled your nipple almost painfully, and his teeth clamped down hard on your sensitive clit, you could no longer hold back the tide of pleasure that crashed over you. A loud, wanton scream tore from your throat, echoing off the thin walls of the office and no doubt carrying out into the hallway beyond.

"Fuck, yes!" Rafayel growled in approval as he felt your body convulse beneath him, your juices flooding his mouth and chin. He lapped at you greedily, his tongue delving deep to catch every drop of your essence as he pushed you ruthlessly through your intense climax.

In a sudden, aggressive motion, Rafayel flipped you over onto your stomach on the desk. He pressed your chest down against the cool, smooth wood, the air forcing out of your lungs in a rush. Before you could catch your breath, he had already gripped your hips and tugged them back, bending you at the waist and exposing your bare, dripping sex to his hungry gaze.

"Fuck, look at this ass", he growled, his hands kneading and squeezing the round globes roughly. "Such a perfect, fuckable ass. It's a crime to keep it hidden away"

He punctuated his words by delivering a sharp smack to one cheek, the sound of the impact echoing through the room. The sting quickly gave way to a warm, tingling pleasure that spread through your nerves, making you clench and tighten around nothing.

With that, he gripped the base of his thick, hard cock and rubbed the leaking tip teasingly along your slit. He coated himself in your juices, mixing them with the bead of precum that oozed from his slit. Then, with one hard, ruthless thrust, he buried himself inside your tight, clutching heat.

"Fuck, so fucking tight," he grunted, his hips flush against your ass as he savored the feel of your walls gripping him like a vice. "Such a perfect fucking fit for my cock. Like you were made just for me..."

Rafayel began to move, his hips pulling back until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before slamming forward and burying himself to the hilt once more. He set a hard, fast pace, the desk creaking and shaking beneath you with each powerful thrust of his hips.

Your face was pressed into the smooth wood, drool already beginning to pool and drip from the corner of your slack mouth. The sensation of being so thoroughly taken, so completely at the mercy of Rafayel's lust and desire, was overwhelming. It was almost too much, too intense.

Rafayel grabbed your arms, pulling them up and bending them at the elbows to either side of your head. He placed your palms flat against the desk, giving you something to hold onto as he continued his relentless, pounding assault on your pussy.

"Hold on tight, cutie", he growled, his voice strained with exertion and lust. "You're going to need to brace yourself for what comes next. I'm not going to hold back, not anymore."

Rafayel kept up his relentless pace, pounding into you with a single-minded determination. But despite the intensity of his thrusts and the building pleasure, he somehow avoided hitting that one special spot inside you that always sent you hurtling over the edge. It was as if he could read your mind, could sense your impending release, and was deliberately denying you that final push.

"Punishing you," he murmured, his voice a low, dark rumble in your ear. "Teasing you, making you beg so sweetly for something I can give you...but won't. Not yet."

"Don't you dare come until I say you can," he ordered, his voice a harsh, dominating bark. "You don't get to come until I've had my fill...until I've pumped this greedy cunt full of my seed and marked you as mine"

You found yourself begging, unable to hold back the desperate pleas that spilled from your lips. Your voice was high and thin, strained with the effort of holding back your rapidly approaching climax, of keeping your body from seizing control.

"Please, Rafayel, please!" you cried out, your fingers scrabbling against the smooth wood of the desk as you tried to find purchase, to anchor yourself against the overwhelming sensation. "Please, I need...I need to come. I can't...please, Rafayel!"

Tears of frustration and desperation pricked at the corners of your eyes, your body shaking and trembling beneath Rafayel's ruthless onslaught. You were completely at his mercy, completely under his control. And in that moment, you knew you would do anything, say anything, to earn the release you so desperately craved.

He leaned down, his chest pressing against your back, his lips finding your ear. When he spoke, his voice was a low, dark rasp, each word deliberately enunciated.

"Don't. Ever. Doubt. Me."

He punctuated each word with a sharp, precise thrust of his hips, driving his cock deep inside you, grinding against that maddeningly elusive spot just out of reach. Your body shook and trembled, tears leaking from your clenched eyes as you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to stifle your increasingly desperate moans.

"Im. Yours."

Thrust.

"Completely. And. Totally."

Thrust.

"Yours"

Thrust

"So you'll wait. You'll wait until I give you permission. Until I grant you the release you so desperately crave. Until then...you'll take what I give you. Understand?"

He emphasized his demand with a particularly brutal thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass, his cock buried to the hilt inside your clutching heat. He remained still for a long moment, his breath hot and heavy against your neck, his heart pounding against your back.

"Tell me you understand y/n"

As soon as the words "I do" left your lips, Rafayel let out a low growl of satisfaction. He angled your hips just so, tilting them up and back to align your body perfectly with his. And then, with a ferocity that stole your breath, he began to pound into that sweet spot deep inside you.

"Yes, just like that", he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release.

"That's it, baby", he encouraged, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. "I can feel you getting close. I can feel your pussy clenching around me, trying to suck me in deeper. You're so fucking close, aren't you? Ready to explode like a fucking firework?"

He angled your hips again, changing the angle slightly, and suddenly you could feel the tension in your body pulling tighter, the coil wound to its breaking point. Your breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, your fingers scrabbling against the desk as you tried to find purchase, to anchor yourself against the tidal wave of sensation threatening to sweep you away.

"Come for me, pretty girl", Rafayel demanded, his voice a low, dark command. "Come screaming my name, so everyone knows who makes you feel this fucking good. Now, fucking do it!"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he finally allowed his own release to overtake him. Thick, scalding ropes of his seed painted your insides, marking you, claiming you as his own as he filled you with his essence.

The sensation of his hot cum flooding your core pushed you over the edge, your body seizing and convulsing beneath his as you came harder than you ever had before. Your scream of ecstasy echoed off the thin walls, no doubt alerting everyone in the vicinity to your shared climax.

As the intense waves of your shared climax began to ebb, Rafayel collapsed against your back, his weight pressing you down into the desk. You both panted and gasped for air, bodies slick with sweat, hearts racing in tandem as you struggled to regain your composure.

After a long moment, Rafayel rolled off of you, his softening cock slipping from your dripping cunt. He gathered you into his arms, holding you close as he pulled you up to sit on the edge of the desk. Your legs were shaky, and you leaned against him for support, not trusting your own balance just yet.

"Look at the mess we made," he murmurs, his voice still rough and strained. He gestures to the desk, streaked with your combined fluids, and the floor, splattered with the evidence of your passionate coupling.

"But it was worth it. Fuck, was it ever worth it. I love you, y/n," he whispers against your lips, his breath mingling with yours. "And I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget it."

As you both stepped out of the office, still flushed and disheveled from your passionate encounter, you find Celine waiting. The young woman's eyes were round as saucers, her face a deep shade of red as she no doubt processed the sounds she had just witnessed emanating from the closed door.

Rafayel barely spared her a glance as he strode past, his arm around your waist to keep you steady. He paused just before exiting the building and turned to face Celine, a wicked smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Keep the paintings, Celine", he instructed, his voice still rough and low from their recent activities. "Our agreement is null and void, effective immediately. Consider this a parting gift, for your trouble."

Celine's mouth opened and closed a few times, as if trying to formulate a response, but no words came out. She looked stunned, her gaze flickering between you and Rafayel.

"And say hi to the family for me, dear cousin", Rafayel added with a mocking, almost cruel edge to his voice. 

With that parting shot, he ushered you out into the brilliant sunlight, the warm air a stark contrast to the cool interior of the gallery.

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

"Maddie screaming and Ozzy's cough (pt.6)"

or "Something made a hole in my backyard pt.6"

Notes: Did I promise this chapter like two days ago? Yes, I did. Did I deliver it two days ago? No, I did not. But the sun shines on Green Hills and I´m finally done writing this thing! This one is the longest chapter yet, and I think that from now on they will only get longer as not to make too many chapters. But until then please enjoy this one!

Part 5

As it turned out Shadow was not half bad company, he was silent and he still distrusted you and just sat broodingly on the chair as you prepared your morning coffe. But he wasn´t all that bad.

It hadn´t been not even an entire day since he woke up, and even though you had fervently insisted that he stayed on the bed while you did stuff around the house he had not left you alone for even a second. You were pretty sure that he thought you were a secret agent of sorts and were going to attack him at any moment.

But, as long as he didn´t attack you first, you were fine with that, trust had always taken time. As for his health he seemed to be a lot better than the day before, if you asked him he would say that he was fine, nevertheless you had seen him wince more than once while walking.

So there you were, grinding coffee beans on your kitchen, while a weird hedghog looked at you as though he could see right through your very soul. And why were you grinding coffee beans, you might ask. Well, because for some reason, out of your knowledge, the old lady that owned the house had a taste for buying coffee beans, and as you were lazy, and did not planned to walk all the way to the store you were dealing with what you were handed. Coffee beans.

"What would you like for breakfast? I´ve got tea, tap water, I think there is some juice left in the fridge, and eventually there will be coffee" You said looking at Shadow before thinking again "Do hedghogs even drink coffee?" you whispered to yourself.

"We also have to find you something to eat..." You turned around to look around the kitchen for at least some bread. And as you had found it, and were stratching in order to grab it, you heard an awful crunching sound behind you.

Tha scene was almost comical, all the way from how you slowly turned to look at the hedghog with a confusion face, to Shadows litlle cheeks looking full as he munched on something, and even the face that you did when you realized that what he was eating was the coffee beans .

"Are you eating the coffee?"

He nodded, a look on his face that read "yes I am, what are you going to do about it?".

"You are aware that that is not how you consume coffee?" Another nod from him "That could seriously damage your digestive system"

"I am the ultimate life form, a mere plant shall not destroy me"

You pursed your lips together and nodded back. Your mind was debating in between worrying for him and laughing at how unfitting his voice was to his tiny body.

"Alright then ultimate life form, would you at least want a spoon?" You asked as you grabbed one for him.

He looked between your hand, your face, the coffee beans bag, and then back to your face; finally he nodded yet again and agreed with a simple "Yes, thank you".

"Alright, as soon as I´m done with this I need to go to my uncle´s house to check up on them and say hi" You told the hedghog so that he would know.

"You are leaving me on my own?" He questioned as he looked at you a little weird, you couldn´t really tell what he was thinking.

"Yes, I trust you won´t get yourself killed in a few hours, just don´t let people see you, if you get bored the tv is in the living room, you´ll entretain yourself" You explained as you finished drinking your coffee and picked up your jacket.

"You would leave me alone, in your home, even though you don´t know me at all? For all you know I could blow up your entire house" You coldn´t know when the guy was kidding, he seriously had such a deadpan-kind-of-angry face all the time.

"Please do not do that, I can´t afford it" You said as you finished picking up your stuff. Meanwhile he just sat there watching you, still eating the beans.

"Ok, bye" you didn´t even noticed when you gave him a little kiss in his forehead as a goodbye, maybe it was just the habit of greeting your parents like that, but it didn´t matter because neither did you see the hedghog looking at you perplexed as you left the house.

✶✧✶✧✶✧✶✧

The walk to your uncle´s hose had thankfully felt rather short, probably because Green Hills was a rather small town and you had rented a hose near his on purpose.

By the time you stood in his front door you were barely tired, but you still took a second to gather your breath, and you were about to knock on the door when you heard Tom loudly speaking with someone.

"You should have told me in the morning, are you absolutely sure about this?" He asked someone.

"I mean he matched the description Sonic gave me, I never saw him, but I just know it is him" You were able to recognize the voice, it was your aunt Maddie, though she sounded kind of electronic, so you assumed they were talking through a phone.

"But that is good news!" Tom exclaimed.

"Tom, he nearly killed you, I´m sorry if I´m not super excited about this" Someone almost killed your uncle? Did all of this had anything to do with his broken arm?

"So you want us to not tell them anything at all? Not even about Sonic and the others? It doesn´t sound fair, and what if he wakes up?" Now he sounded a little worried, and even though you had no idea what they were talking about, you had started to worry a little too.

"I´ll go get him today, I can not have him hurting someone else on my family"

You realized then that you had been eavesdropping for longer than you intended (which was, nothing at all) and so you decided to knock on the door.

You heard your uncle say something like "Wait, there´s someone at he door" and five seconds later he opened up.

"Hey kiddo! I wasn´t expecting you to be here so early" He greeted and hugged you, messing up your hair a little bit on the process.

"Yeah, I just tought that I would drop by, y´know, check you still had your other arm in one piece" you joked as you dropped on his couch as if it was your own house. You had tecnically been raised in this house as well as your own.

"Where´s Maddie?" You asked Tom as he plopped himself besides you and turned off the tv which was playing a telenovela.

"Oh you know she´s out with the kids..." It seemed he realized his choice off words as they slowly faded towards the end of the sentence.

"Kids?" You looked at him as if he had gone crazy in the last 24 hours "Are you feeling alright? First aliens, now kids..."

He almost jumped out of the couch as he started walking towards the kitchen "Oh you know, I meant the animals, she sometimes says her patients are like her kids, so it must have rubbed off on me".

Someone had to give it to that man, Tom Wachowski was no bad liar.

"Mhm... And does she always take Ozzy to the vet with her?" You asked even further, confused for the missing friendly dog.

"No!" He nearly screamed, at that point you had gotten up from your spot and followed him all the way into the kitchen. "Is just that Ozzy had a bad cough, so she wanted to check it out".

"Okay..." You reluctantly agreed to the explanation.

The rest of the morning went by smoothly, you two talked and you even helped him with patching up some holes in the walls that he blamed the racoons for. But lunch was fastly approaching and no matter how sad it made you to leave you had a hedghog to take care of.

But, first, you had to use the bathroom. You told your uncle that much (about going to the bathroom, not about the alien hedghog) and left for the upstairs bathroom, because, you simply liked it better.

As you were done with your business and were leaving the room you noticed something strange, unusual for most of the times you had been to the Wachowski home.

The attic door was down. Right there, in the middle of the hallway.

Assuming that your Uncle had gone up to put something away, or sothing of sorts, you decided to go up to check it out. What you certainly were not expecting was the way the place was fixed up, there were comic books everywhere, a puff, and what looked like three small beds. The sudden sound of the front door banging was what took you out of your inspection.

Quikly you made your way down the stairs, and the closer you got to the front door the more you could hear your auntie screaming.

"...They were not there! And neither was him! I´m telling you, he did something to them!" You could hear her and you were sure that anyone that was outside on the sidewalk could as well.

"Maddie, calm down, they´re okay!" Tom was definitely trying to get a word in, but his wife´s shouts wouldn´t let him.

"What´s wrong, who´s missing?" You asked as you finally arrived to the place they were both standing.

Maddie whipped her head around so quickly you feard she would snap her neck, and then she just looked at you as if she could not believe you were standing there.

Tom telling her that "he tried to explain it to her" went over your head as a fluffy animal walked into the house.

"Ozzy! How´re you doing girl? Is your cough better?" You asked as you petted the animal which was constantly trying to lick your face.

"Are you alright?" Maddie asked as she knelt besides you. You laughed.

"Yeah, why wouldn´t I be?"

That answer seemed to calm her down as she stood up and left to talk to Tom.

"Dad! I know you said we had to go out for some time to take in some sun, but Tails scrapped his knee, and so we had to come back..." You heard a voice that suddenly went silent as it stood behind you.

You turned around, your aunt and uncle besides you.

There, in the front door of your uncle´s house, stood a perfect blue copy of Shadow.

"I´m sorry, why did nobody told me my cousin had come home?" It spoke.

And then you fainted.

Taglist:@boogiemansbitch@vxllys@whoisgami@baby-bloos@sapphireravensworld@mothmanperson@4rm-the-mf-concrete@eliknowsnothing@pooplyface1423

[ldydeath]

Show Must Go On | Kang Dae-sung

Summary: You and Daesung both have feelings for each other but are too stubborn to admit it. When your boss decides that a PR relationship is best for business you both worry that you're feelings might come out. What could go wrong?

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing for our angel baby, Daesung. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list.

Daesung had been one of the first people you’d met when you had started coming up in the industry. With both of you becoming famous around the same time, you’d grown close rather quickly. You’d spent a lot of time with him and his band over the years, so much so that you all went hand in hand at this point. People didn’t think of them without thinking of you and vice versa. It was daunting sometimes being talked about in the same circles, but you loved your friends too much to ever distance yourself from them. 

That however, didn’t stop you from being shocked when you walked into your bosses office to see Daesung there. “Dae? What are you doing here?” He shrugged and you raised a brow at your boss as you sat down. It had been a long time since you two had been called into the office together. In fact, the last time had been when you were a lot longer and were being scolded for doing something wrong on a variety show. You wracked your brain trying to think of something, anything you’d done wrong recently as your boss began to speak. “It’s a weird time for the industry and with you two still being single we think it’s best if you do a PR relationship. At least for a bit.” You blinked, having missed all but the end of the conversation. “What? That’s ridiculous. Nobody cares that we’re single.” Daesung nodded in agreement. 

“It’s perfect timing, Daesung is doing reunion shows with BigBang, you’ve got your new album coming out. It’s a win-win if you promote each other and attend all these events together. You guys have a staged photo shoot in an hour for the hard launch.” You looked at Dae who rolled his eyes before looking back at your boss. “And we have to do this?” His voice was soft and you raised a brow, wondering why he wasn’t fighting back as hard as you were. “Yes.” Your boss leaned over, handing you both a timeline of the relationship. You snatched it from his hands before standing up to leave the room. 

As soon as you were outside the room a hand was on your arm, you looked up into the concerned eyes of your best friend, “Are you ok?” Your expression softened at his worry and you let out a sigh, “Yeah, I’m just annoyed that we have to do this.” He cocked his head to the side, dropping your arm and folding them across his chest. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like we’re not going to take this stupid schedule and make it fun.” It was a big deal, though. Over the last few months you’d started to feel things that you shouldn’t for your best friend. You weren’t so sure you could handle fake dating your best friend while you were navigating your own feelings for him. “Yeah, okay. I know we’ll make it fun, it’s just silly that they think anyone would care about this.”

—

A week had passed since the pictures of you being caught on a date had appeared online and you were eating your words. Fans from all over the world were obsessed that the two of you were dating. You were knee deep in instagram comments over a photo of your and Daesung’s hands. It was kind of funny how they could find a way the fans were playing detective over every post and story the two of you would put up. You didn’t even have to be in each other's stories for them to assume you were together. 

The agreement had been that you’d be caught out, being a little too friendly but wouldn’t confirm anything yet. This week was a week of soft launching without tagging each other, no faces, nothing just to gauge the reaction. Tonight was the big show. You two had dinner with Jiyong and Youngbae and a couple people from both of your teams, something you all did frequently but after the dinner you and Daesung would get caught kissing.

You were a nervous wreck at the thought of it. Just being around him like this the past week had you on edge. Careful not to linger too much when holding hands, or to not look at him too long when walking down the street. It was one thing for the fans to see you smitten, it was another for him to realize just how much you weren’t acting. You were so busy trying to play it cool that you didn’t realize the way his touch lingered or the fact that he never wanted to be the one to leave first. You were fighting so hard to convince yourself that there were no real feelings there that you were missing the probability that he was in love with you and afraid to admit it too.

A knock at your door broke your thoughts and you grabbed your bag. Checking yourself over one final time before plastering a big smile on your face to hide the nerves, “You ready?” Dae greeted you and you nodded. “As I’ll ever be.” You held your hand out for him to take and he laced your fingers together, your heart pounding in your chest just from holding his hand. This man was going to drive you crazy and he didn’t even know it. As if picking up on your nerves, Daesung gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he led the way to the restaurant.  

As expected the paparazzi was out, following you and your security down the street. Thankfully you only lived a couple blocks from dinner so the walk wasn’t too sketchy with your team by your side. As Daesung opened the door to the restaurant you leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek, his cheeks flushing at the touch. That was unscripted and you cursed to yourself as you let go of his hand to make your way inside. Thankfully, everyone else was already there and the cameras weren’t allowed inside. You only had to keep up appearances in case anyone got a shot of you through the window, but you didn’t have to act in front of your friends. 

“I guess I just don’t understand why you two have to be here for the kiss, it’s embarrassing.” You complained as dinner was coming to an end. Daesung's eyes flashed with a hint of hurt before covering it up with a nod his grip tightening on your leg. You didn’t see how much it was killing him, being so close to you and you shutting him down every chance you got. He should’ve told you how he felt, and now he was starting to chicken out.  “I think it’s so the world can see that we support you both.” Jiyong looked between you too as you spoke. “It’s a big deal for the Hyung to approve of his girlfriend.” He sat back smugly in his seat and you rolled your eyes at him, knowing he didn’t take that title seriously anymore. 

As you went to stand once the meal was over, Daesung kept his arm on your leg, causing you to stay seated. “We don’t have to do this, if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.” You thought maybe you were imaging things but he seemed sad as he spoke to you and you frowned, your eyes locking on him. Daesung wanted to make sure you were comfortable before anything else was to happen. He didn’t care about schedules or contracts or their boss, he only cared about you.  “I’m not uncomfortable, never with you, it’s just weird, you know?” You were projecting, nothing about kissing this man was going to be weird. You were nervous that you wouldn’t be able to hide your feelings and ruin your whole friendship, but you had to do this. “Come on, once this is over we can go back to my place and watch everyone freak out in real time, it’ll be fun.” He nodded, standing up and taking your hand in his again before leading you outside.

You spotted the cameras hungry for attention, it was show time. Hugs were exchanged between you and the guys and as Daesung pulled you towards your street you leaned up, your mouth brushing his slightly. As his lips met yours, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and just as you were about to pull away, Daesung’s arm wound around your back pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. He had one shot to let you know how felt, and he poured all his emotions into that kiss, hoping maybe now you’d realize how he felt about him.

You got lost in the moment, your heart doing somersaults as you kissed your best friend. Jiyong cleared his throat behind you, causing you both to freeze. “Camera’s left a bit ago.” Your eyes popped open and you turned slowly, taking in the scene. It was just the four of you and your various security standing awkwardly around you. “Right. Well, we’re going to go.” Youngbae waved and the two of them took off down the street.

When you turned back around Daesung was looking at you, his expression soft. “So I guess that happened?” He chuckled his hand finding its way to yours as he faced you fully. “Kind of like you a lot more than just as a friend these days.” His eyes were wide searching yours for any clue that you felt the same and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your hand moving to cup his cheek. “Kind of feel the same about you. That’s why I was so nervous about this whole fake dating thing. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want you to realize that I’m stupid crazy about you.” 

He grinned, his eyes closing into those perfect half moons that you loved so much and it felt like a weight had been lifted off both your shoulders. “Starting to think this was a setup to get us to both stop being so stubborn.” He made a face, looking around as if someone was going to pop out and tell him he was right at any moment. “I’m glad though, I was too scared to tell you how I felt, and I knew today was my only shot to really show you how I felt. I think maybe we rip up that stupid contract and give dating for real a real shot.” You nodded your head at his words, leaning up to kiss him again. “Come on, let’s get you home so we can have some privacy.” He pecked your lips a couple more times before leading you down the street.  Both of you making a mental note to thank your boss and everyone else who’d been involved in setting this up for getting you to realize that you two were crazy about each other.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun

[come-as-you-are-111]

do a minsu x reader where minsu cry’s over smth and reader hugs and comforts him because he isn’t afraid to cry and he falls in love with her cause she i kind and sweet and she’s had a crush on him

Falling For You

Warnings: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!

The dorm is quieter than usual. It’s one of those rare moments between games where no one is talking, no one is fighting—just the sound of slow breathing, the occasional rustle of blankets, and the quiet weight of survival sinking in.

And then, you see him.

Min-Su sits on the edge of his bunk, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hands are clasped together, fingers anxiously twisting the fabric of his jumpsuit. His head is bowed low, his shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breaths.

You hesitate.

It’s not often you see someone openly upset here. People usually swallow their emotions, bury them deep down, because in the Squid Game, weakness is dangerous. It’s a place that forces you to be numb, to pretend you don’t feel a damn thing.

But Min-Su isn’t like the others.

He always felt things deeply, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. And that’s exactly why you’re drawn to him.

Taking a quiet step closer, you lower your voice. “Min-Su?”

His head lifts slightly, and even in the dim light, you catch the faint shine of tears before he quickly wipes them away with the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rough, unsteady. “I know it’s stupid to get emotional here.”

Your heart clenches. “It’s not stupid.”

You sit beside him, close enough that your knee brushes his, but you don’t press him to talk. You just wait, letting him decide if he wants to let you in.

For a moment, all he does is exhale slowly, rubbing a hand down his face before finally whispering, “It’s just… everything. The games. The people we’ve lost. And I keep wondering if I’ll make it out—if any of us will.”

He shakes his head, staring down at his hands. “I don’t want to be another nameless body on the floor.”

There’s something so heartbreakingly human in the way he says it, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out—your fingers gently curling around his hand.

His breath hitches at the contact, his gaze flickering to yours, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it, like he needs it.

And then you move without thinking, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a firm, warm embrace.

At first, he freezes, like he’s not used to this kind of comfort. But then, ever so slowly, he lets go—his hands gripping the back of your jumpsuit as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

His breath is warm against your shoulder, uneven, but he doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t try to mask the way his body trembles slightly against yours.

“I hate that we’re stuck in this place,” you murmur against his shoulder. “But I’m glad I met you.”

His arms tighten around you, as if those words alone are enough to steady him. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours—soft, vulnerable, something unspoken lingering between you.

“You mean that?”

You nod, your heart hammering.

You’d had a crush on Min-Su since the moment you first spoke to him—since you realized he wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t ruthless. He wasn’t selfish. He cared.

And right now, looking at you like this, something in his gaze shifts—like he’s seeing you in a way he never has before.

“You’re too kind for this place,” he whispers, his fingers still gently holding onto your sleeve. “That’s why I—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your stomach flips, warmth spreading through your chest, but it’s more than just a crush now. It’s something real, something that exists despite the chaos around you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you squeeze his hand. “Then at least we’re in this together.”

And for the first time in days, he smiles.

A/n: hi my lil monsters! How we likey? First min-su fic and this request is honestly so cute and I just knew I had to do it! If you have any request send em in!

Love ya, Twilight

squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 7 - Bound Beneath a Sirens Song Summary: With a storm looming on the horizon, the air crackles with an undeniable energy—every moment, every touch is charged like lightning waiting to strike. When Arthur invites you to take a swim, how could you possibly refuse? After all, it’s just a swim... what harm could come from that? wc: 11k tw: none! Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

AN: Longer chapter, got a little carried away. But reader finally gets to kissy on her fishy :3 (also like 80% of this takes place underwater, so pls don’t read too much into the logic of it)

tag list: @photo1030 @v3lv3tf0x @ireallyhonestlydontcare @shygamergirl01 @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @sevikaspuertoricanwife @abducted-cowz @ilovethatforyousworld @gatodebiquini @onyxlune @bomdada

I was searching for trouble and I knew it

The pull toward him was undeniable, like the tide dragging me into deeper waters, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight it. There were a thousand reasons why I should pack up my things and head home, but none of them were strong enough to make me leave. Every day, his voice echoed in the back of my mind, a secret siren song ringing in my ears, impossible to ignore.

I told myself this was an adventure—something new, something extraordinary. When in my life would I ever experience something like this again? But deep down, I knew it was more than that. He wasn’t just some fascinating creature to be studied, he was a person. A complicated, intriguing, wonderful person who had been through hell and somehow still found the strength to trust. Over the past week, I had watched him transform before my eyes, shedding his fear and anger like an old skin. Seeing that change unfold lit something warm and dangerous in my chest.

I knew I was going down with this ship, but I refused to raise the white flag in surrender. 

Not when he had come so far. Not when I had seen the way his shoulders relaxed when he listened to Mary-Beth ramble about her favorite books, or how he watched Tilly’s hands with quiet fascination as she scribbled down notes and hypotheses, pausing only to tap her pen against her lip in thought. He was still wary of the men, his trust slower to form, but he was trying. And that effort—it meant everything.

Tilly pestered him with inquisitive, practical questions, always seeking to unravel the mysteries of his existence. She wanted to know what he remembered about his mother, about his people, about the depths of the ocean he had never been free to explore. She wanted to see his lights up close, to hear the cadence of his native tongue, to piece together the puzzle of his biology with a scientific curiosity. At first, Arthur was hesitant, his answers clipped, wary. But I was always there with them, and at times, it felt like he looked to me for permission. A gentle smile, a small nod, and his face would soften just slightly, his bioluminescence flickering to life.

It was as if I was telling him, Go ahead. You’re safe to be yourself here.

Mary-Beth, on the other hand, was smitten with his personality. She had a habit of chatting his ear off, switching from one topic to another with the ease of someone who never ran out of things to say. She talked about her love for writing, about her life back at college, and the not-so-secret crush she had on a certain fisherman at the facility. And Arthur—he listened. Really listened. He hung onto every word, his curiosity evident in the way he tilted his head, the way he asked his own questions. It was clear that as much as we were fascinated by him, he was just as eager to understand us.

And for the first time in his life, he was free to learn without the shadow of pain and fear looming over him.

It was the end of the week. The summer sun was sinking low in the sky, bathing the outdoor section of Arthur’s tank in molten gold. The facility had closed to the public not too long ago, and the girls would need to head home soon. The warm eastern wind carried the briny scent of the ocean, filling my lungs with something grounding, something familiar.

I, for one, did not plan on leaving with them.

There was a part of me that longed to dive into the unknown. To explore someone who, in ways I couldn’t yet explain, felt just a little bit like me. Every day, the pull had grown stronger, the ache sharper. I wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or something more—but tonight, I could no longer ignore it.

Mary-Beth was carefully braiding a section of Arthur’s sandy blond hair, her fingers moving with practiced ease as she wove small strands together. Arthur sat comfortably with his elbows resting on the platform, arms crossed as his long tail floated lazily in the water, the gentle sway of it almost hypnotic. Tilly, stretching her legs with a sigh, checked the time before nudging Mary-Beth.

“We better get moving. My mom doesn’t like when I’m late for dinner.”

Mary-Beth groaned dramatically, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. “Oh, come on, Tilly. It’s Friday! We’re young adults—we should be spending our weekends staying out late, having fun! Can’t we stay with Arthur a little longer?”

“Ouch, guess I’m just chopped liver,” I muttered with a laugh, shaking my head. Though, in truth, I didn’t really mind that they preferred Arthur’s company. Because it meant I got to spend time with him too.

Arthur chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest as he gave them a reassuring smile. “It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere,” he said, amusement dancing in his glowing blue eyes. “We can pick up where we left off when you girls come back. Go home, get some rest—study up on those science books so you can teach this old fool some new tricks.” He added a playful wink, making Mary-Beth giggle as she gathered her things.

I stood as they did, walking them to the door, dragging my feet ever so slightly. The anticipation in my chest was a restless thing.

And then, finally—the door shut behind them with a heavy thud. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing softer until they disappeared completely.

And just like that, it was just us.

Arthur and I.

This was what I had been waiting for all week—just a moment alone with him, without the others, without distraction. But now that it was here, now that the opportunity had fallen right into my lap, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with myself.

I wanted to talk to him, to ask him questions, to know him in ways no one else had. But I had already spent every day listening to his stories, absorbing the pieces of himself he was willing to share with the others. And yet, there were still so many things I desired to know. More personal, more intimate details about his life that I had no business prying into.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I barely registered the way Arthur tilted his head at me, eyes searching mine.

“You alright, darlin’?”

The smooth timbre of his voice pulled me back to the present, washing over me like the tide pulling in.

I blinked, offering a small smile. “Yeah, I was just thinking.” I hesitated for half a second before adding, “Mind if I hang out for a bit?”

His eyes lit up, and it wasn’t just the setting sun catching in the water.

“Sure,” he said, shifting slightly as he regarded me. “This ain’t gonna get you in trouble, though, right?”

He had a point. There was no reason for me to stay after hours. But surely, I wasn’t breaking any rules. Not really.

I smirked. “Only if I get caught.”

Arthur huffed out a laugh, the sound warm and familiar, as if we had known each other for years instead of days. I realized just how much I needed to know him. Not as some scientific marvel, not as a myth brought to life.

But as Arthur.

As I moved toward the edge of the ledge, letting my legs dangle in the water, Arthur followed without hesitation. It was as if we were tethered by some invisible thread, an unspoken pull drawing us together. He stopped just before reaching me, lingering in that space between caution and longing, his hesitation palpable. I could see the gears turning in his mind—how close is too close?

I reached out, offering my hand in a silent invitation. And when he took it, I felt the warmth of his palm against mine despite the coolness of the water. He pressed himself against my legs, his chest firm and solid, his heartbeat strong beneath my skin. Wet arms came to rest on my thighs, soaking through my shorts, but I barely noticed. The moment was too charged, too fragile, as his gills fluttered against my legs, I parted them slightly as if breathing him into my embrace.

He was so close now. Close enough that I could study every detail of his face—the faint scar hidden beneath his short beard, the dimple at the base of his nose, the way his lashes curled like delicate brushstrokes. Freckles dusted his cheeks and shoulders like constellations etched into his skin, mapping stories I would never fully know. His second eyelids, faint but visible, reflected the soft light filtering through the water, a feature evolved to protect his irises, and yet, he still looked at me with such openness. His lips were smooth, and when he parted them, I caught the glint of sharp teeth, a stark contrast to the tenderness in his gaze.

Content had settled over his handsome rugged features. 

“Arthur.” His name slipped from my lips, quiet but sincere. And before I could stop myself, the question that had been lodged in my heart finally surfaced. “Are you happy here?”

I felt him tense, his body stilling against mine. He took a slow, measured breath, but there was no avoidance in his gaze, no flicker of hesitation. Only the truth.

“Happy is... a foreign word to me,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of a lifetime of uncertainty. “I like it here, but it’s not exactly what I’d call… home.”

The word sounded strange coming from him, like he was tasting it for the first time, unsure of its meaning. My chest ached.

“It’s a bit lonely when you’re all workin’,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Quiet. But it’s a nice feelin’, like I can just be.” He shrugged, as if that small solace was enough, as if it didn’t matter.

A sigh escaped my throat before I could swallow it. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I wish there—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, sweetheart. You’ve given me more freedom than I’ve ever tasted in my whole miserable life.”

I smiled at that, but it was a poor attempt to mask the tightness in my chest. I wanted to do more for him. I wanted to erase every wound, every scar of his past. Show him true happiness, not just some artificial slice of freedom. 

“Besides,” a slow, knowing grin tugged at his lips, revealing more of those sharp teeth. “If you had never brought me here, I never would’ve met you.”

His hand—webbed, calloused, yet impossibly gentle—lifted to my face, his fingertips tracing the curve of my cheek with aching reverence. Like he was afraid I might dissolve beneath his touch, fade into the air like seafoam.

“And I’m happy when I’m with you.”

The words settled between us, sinking into my bones, heavy and undeniable. I should have said something back. Should have acknowledged what was happening between us.

But I couldn’t. Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to pull myself away.

Arthur held my gaze for what felt like an eternity, a storm of emotions swirling between us like the eye of a cyclone—hot and cold currents colliding, the pressure building, pulling us into a dance neither of us dared to break free from. It was unspoken, this tether between us, but I felt it with every pounding heartbeat, with every inch that closed between our bodies.

“Would you swim with me, my girl?”

My breath caught. The words barely registered, not because I hadn’t heard them, but because of the way he said them.

My girl.

It rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, like it was already a truth neither of us had acknowledged yet. My stomach twisted, and a rush of warmth bloomed across my cheeks under the golden light of the setting sun. Arthur watched me, eyes shimmering with mischief, but there was something else there too—something deeper, something that sent a shiver down my spine.

“S-swim?” I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur chuckled, the sound low and rich, like I had just recoiled from something ridiculous—like he had asked me to eat a raw sea urchin instead of simply taking a swim. “Yeah. If you can ignore the sharks and stingrays, it’s practically paradise,” he teased, tugging at my hands as if I might just leap in fully clothed without a second thought.

The meaning of his request finally sank in. My pulse kicked up a notch. This wasn’t what I had planned when I stayed behind with him, wasn’t how I thought I’d fill my time. I had imagined more talking, maybe more of those easy laughs he shared with the girls. But this—this was something different. Something thrilling.

I’d be in the water with him. In his natural element.

A voice in the back of my head stirred, whispering a reminder of what Lenny had said about siren courtship. His bioluminescence, the purring, the gift-giving—he’s in mating season.

I shot those thoughts straight to hell.

This wasn’t about that. This was just swimming. Nothing more. Nothing dangerous. What harm could be done?

Right? Right. 

A grin broke across my face, excitement bubbling in my chest as I practically sprang to my feet.

“I’ll go change into my wetsuit.”

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

I bounded down the corridor, my heartbeat matching the quick, eager rhythm of my steps. Excitement thrummed in my veins, bubbling up inside me until it felt like I might burst. This is happening. I could barely contain myself, giddy at the thought of what was to come. To see Arthur as he was meant to be—in the water, in his element. To watch the way the water broke for him, how effortlessly he moved, commanding the space with just the flick of his powerful tail. The thought sent shivers down my spine, a thrill unlike anything I had ever known.

I was so lost in the fantasy that I didn’t notice the electrical closet door swinging open until I nearly barreled straight into a solid chest.

“Woah!”

Hands gripped my shoulders to steady me, and I blinked up to find John staring down at me, brows raised in surprise. “Hey, uhm—didn’t realize you were still here…you going for a swim or something?” His gaze flickered down to my wetsuit, to the towel in my hands, then toward the hallway that led to Arthur’s tank. His expression shifted, concern knitting his features. “Shit, is Arthur alright? Did something happen?”

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. Just like John to assume the worst. He always played it cool, pretended not to give a shit, but deep down, I knew better. The fool had a heart bigger than his ego—not that he’d ever admit it.

“Arthur’s fine,” I assured him quickly. “I’m just… going for a little swim. That’s all.”

John’s eyebrows shot up, but before he could grill me on why exactly I was voluntarily diving into the water with a half-siren, I cut in.

“What are you still doing here, anyway? You hate working late on Fridays.”

He sighed, exhaustion lacing his tone as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hosea asked me to check on the generators. Since we got that big storm coming this weekend.”

Right. The hurricane. I had been so wrapped up in Arthur, in my own tangled emotions, that I had almost forgotten.

“Oh, right. Hurricane Eliza.” I rocked back on my heels, clutching the towel to my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. “I heard she’s gonna be a real beast.” I tried not to sound uninterested, but all I really wanted to do was turn back to Arthur. 

John hummed in agreement, but his eyes lingered on me a beat too long, as if he could see straight through my flimsy attempt at nonchalance.

A quiet laugh rumbled from his chest. “Yeah, uh—I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

He turned, heading back down the hallway, but not before shooting me that look. The one that said he wasn’t buying it.

“John! Uh…” I swallowed hard, nerves creeping back up my spine. Why did I feel like I was a child getting away with something? “Please keep this between us. I-I’m just—” I fumbled for the right words. Just what? Just going for a swim? Then why did it feel like I had been caught sneaking off to do something much more nefarious?

John smirked, dragging a finger across his lips like he was sealing them shut. “Your secret’s safe with me. Have fun with your shark boyfriend.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “He’s not—”

John was already strolling away, ignoring my rebuttal. “If he tries anything, I’ll gut his ass personally,” he called over his shoulder, his voice echoing down the corridor. 

I laughed, shaking my head. “Think I’ll take my chances, Marston. Seeing as you still can’t swim!”

Without turning around, he raised a middle finger in the air.

Grinning to myself, I clutched my towel a little tighter and turned toward the hallway that led to Arthur’s tank. My heart pounded for an entirely different reason now. This was finally happening.

The moment I stepped onto the platform, my heart clenched with a brief flicker of doubt. Would he still be as eager now that I was actually here? But before that worry could take root, the surface of the water broke, and Arthur emerged with effortless grace, resting his arms on the ledge like he had been waiting for me all night.

“Took you long enough,” he teased, his voice a low rumble beneath the gentle crashing of the waves beyond the facility. “Was startin’ to worry you changed your mind.”

I grinned, shaking my head as I tossed my towel onto a plastic chair. “Like I’d pass up this opportunity,” I mused, reaching for my flippers. “Spoke too soon about getting caught. Ran into John in the hallway.”

Arthur hummed in acknowledgment, but his attention was already elsewhere. I followed his gaze down to my feet, watching the way his expression softened with curiosity. Slowly, he reached out, his webbed fingers glistening under the golden light as they ghosted over my ankle.

I stilled as he lifted my foot slightly, his thumb brushing over the sharp ridge of ankle bone before gliding downward in a slow, deliberate motion. When the back of his claw traced up the arch of my foot, I couldn't help the quiet giggle that escaped me, my toes curling instinctively.

Arthur's eyes flicked up at the sound, his lips twitching with amusement before he focused back on my foot, turning it this way and that as if studying an artifact he couldn’t quite make sense of.

“Why do you wear these?” he asked, finally shifting his attention to the flipper I had yet to put on. He tapped the stiff rubber with his claw, brows furrowing.

I chuckled, slipping the other one on. “They’re flippers. I can’t swim like you do. My feet aren’t smooth or streamlined, and I don’t have the muscles like you.”

Arthur’s lips parted slightly as he mouthed the word to himself. “Flippers,” he repeated, testing the sound on his tongue before looking back at me. “So these make you more like me?”

His question sent a strange warmth through my chest. There was something so earnest in the way he asked, his fingers trailing along the length of the fin as if he were trying to understand what it meant for me to move through his world.

“Essentially, yes,” I murmured, a small smile playing at my lips. “They’ll help me keep up with you.”

Arthur let out an exaggerated snort, giving me a pointed look. “Darlin’, that’s a bold statement.”

Grinning, I kicked my foot out of the water, sending a spray into the air. He flinched slightly, watching the droplets rain down before glaring at the stiff black rubber with playful disdain.

“That’s just insulting.”

I laughed, adjusting the strap on my other flipper before sliding a pair of goggles over my forehead. Arthur cocked a brow, tilting his head as he eyed them.

“Ain’t even gonna ask,” he huffed, but then his tone shifted, growing more serious. “How long can you hold your breath?”

The change in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. The playful banter faded, replaced by something quieter—something deeper.

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the edge of the platform. How long could I hold my breath? I was about to dive into his world, a place where he was strong, fast, in control. The thought sent my pulse skittering, but I forced a steady breath, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Less than a minute,” I admitted, though I knew it was probably closer to thirty seconds.

Arthur took in the information with a slow nod, his ocean-blue gaze flickering downward to the depths of the tank. The water reflected against his skin in shifting ribbons of light, making him look even more otherworldly. “Just stay close to me, alright?”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Pulling my goggles over my eyes and nose, I inhaled deeply, letting my lungs expand before slipping off the ledge. The cool water embraced me instantly, a rush of sensation flooding my senses as the world above blurred into nothingness.

And then, through the clearing bubbles, there he was.

Arthur moved—no, glided—with an effortless grace that no human could ever hope to match. The full arc of his powerful tail cut through the water like a blade, propelling him forward with a strength that sent ripples cascading outward. The bioluminescent blues and purples that traced his scales shimmered like stardust, catching the fractured light that filtered down from above. His tail fin, a broad, elegant half-moon, unfurled behind him with each movement, undulating like the slow, hypnotic pulse of a jellyfish. The way it rippled through the currents, fluid and weightless, was mesmerizing—a dance like the ocean itself was draped in silk.

For the first time, I was seeing him as he was meant to be. Free. Powerful. Impossible. A gateway into a world unknown. He belonged to nobody, and no man. 

His sandy blond hair drifted around his face in feathery strands, framing the rugged lines of his features, softening the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones. His gills flexed slightly, expelling a faint trail of bubbles as he moved, blending into the swirling currents. And then there was his smile—devastating, knowing, teasing. It was the kind of smile that made the world tilt, that made my stomach tighten with something warm.

He belonged here, in the water, in the vastness. And yet, as his ocean-blue eyes met mine, glowing faintly beneath the surface, I couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, in this moment—he belonged with me, too.

Arthur reached for me, and without hesitation, I took his hand.

Webbed fingers curled around mine, warm even in the cold water, and with the smallest tug, he guided me deeper. The tank transformed before my eyes—the artificial world of rock formations and coral structures now seemed vast and infinite from this new perspective. Schools of fish darted past us in flashes of silver, weaving effortlessly through the currents.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Arthur twisted effortlessly, rolling onto his back so he could watch me, his tail propelling him smoothly as I floated just above him. Watching me with that same toothy, teasing grin. 

I kicked my feet, feeling the resistance of the water as my flippers sliced through it, but it was nothing compared to the sheer power he held in every movement. His tail moved in slow, deliberate strokes, adjusting his speed with fluent precision, allowing me to drift above.

I suddenly wished I had a tail like his—to feel the strength coiling in my muscles, to move through the water with that same primal ease. To command the currents as if they were an extension of myself. But I was clumsy in comparison, merely paddling while he swam with the mastery of something born from the deep. And yet, he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looked amused, watching me with a quiet adoration, like I was the marvel here—not him.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly weightless. Suspended in the water, drifting between reality and something almost dreamlike, I had never felt so free. Despite the vastness around us, Arthur was the only thing keeping me tethered.

Then my chest tightened. A sharp, familiar burn spread through my lungs. Shit. Has it been a minute already?

With my free hand, I pointed to the surface, signaling to Arthur that I needed air. But instead of guiding me upward, he pulled us deeper. My stomach dropped. A chill slithered down my spine as his grip on my hand remained firm. What is he doing?

I tugged, trying to free myself, but his hold only tightened. Panic began to set in, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. No… No, no, no! My limbs burned, my body screaming for oxygen. The water suddenly felt too thick, too heavy. It was crushing me, swallowing me whole. 

He shook his head.

A bolt of horror shot through me. No? What the fuck do you mean, NO?!

Was this some kind of sick game? Had I been a fool to trust him? My mind raced with a thousand possibilities, each one darker than the last. What if I had just made a terrible mistake? What if everything we shared had been a lie? What if Arthur wasn’t what I thought he was?

Was he going to kill me? Am I going to drown? 

Just as the last ounce of my strength gave way, just as I thought I was about to give in to the burning need to draw breath and fill my lungs with water, Arthur pulled me against his chest. I expected him to kick his tail sending us upward, to break the surface in a powerful burst. He had asked how long I could hold my breath, surely that wasn't to plan my demise in a timely fashion.  

But instead, he did something I never could have anticipated.

His hands came up to cradle my face, his touch gentle even as I writhed against him. His bioluminescent veins pulsed with soft light, a delicate glow between us. His eyes, deep and steady, locked onto mine, silently urging me to trust him. But my mind was blind with panic, lungs burning as they gave out. 

Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine.

A kiss? Now? My mind screamed at me to pull away, to fight, to swim for the surface before it was too late. I felt it crawling under my skin, a desperate need for air or I was going to die!

I gasped but instead of choking, instead of water rushing into my lungs—

I breathed.

A rush of oxygen filled my chest, sharp and startling, like drawing the first breath of life. Arthur's lips parted against mine, his tongue slipping past in a way that was less about hunger and more about necessity. He was giving me his breath, sharing something vital and instinctual, something so intimate it sent a shiver down my spine and ignited each of my nerves in white hot fire.

I inhaled, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I clung to him, taking in the air he offered me in desperate, greedy gulps. My lungs burned, but not from lack of oxygen—it was the lingering ache of panic, the rawness of fear ebbing away, replaced by something deeper. Something calming. 

Relief. Arthur never meant to let me drown. He was never going to harm me. I silently cursed myself for not trusting him. But this was something I never would have expected. 

The rhythm came naturally after a few moments. A slow, controlled exchange. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Arthur matched me, his chest expanding against mine, his gills flaring as he cycled the air between us. Drawing in enough breath for both our lungs. Somewhere in my frantic attempt to survive, my goggles had been pulled off, floating aimlessly somewhere behind me. 

Now, nothing separated us. No barrier, no confusion. Just the warmth of his lips and the steady strength of his body as he held me in place. His breath kissing every pore. 

My arms wound around his neck instinctively, fingers tangling in his billowing hair. I could feel the powerful ripple of his muscles as he kept us suspended in the water, his tail moving in slow, effortless sweeps. His veins pulsed softly beneath his skin, casting an ethereal glow between us. It was mesmerizing, hypnotic even. 

I consumed him like a fire that devours, drawing him in deeper. Seizing his lifeforce. Claiming it as my own. Taking. 

The air he breathed into me was unlike anything I had ever tasted. It was liberating, pure—like petrichor. When the earth is warm with rain-soaked soil after a summer storm. Rich and electric and unmistakably him. It filled every aching part of me, chased away the fear, replaced it with something that left me dizzy.

This wasn’t just survival. This was something else entirely.

Arthur wasn’t just giving me air—he was threading himself into the very fabric of my being.

With every inhale, he poured into me like the tide rushing into a hollowed-out cave, filling the spaces I didn’t even realize were empty. A piece of him—vast, ancient, and arcane—flooded through my heart, echoing through its chambers, coursing through my veins in a heady, intoxicating rush. It curled into the hollows of my lungs, wove through the sinew of my muscles, and settled deep into my skin. Clinging to me like the saltwater after it dries.

It wasn’t just breath. It was him.

He invaded me, not with force, but with something far more meaningful—an offering, a communion. A sacrifice. Reaching inside me his presence wrapped around my very cells, touching every inch of me in ways I had never imagined. It was like swallowing starlight, like sinking into the depths of the ocean and becoming part of it, losing myself to something endless and infinite.

I felt the ocean’s pulse, a steady rhythm thrumming through me. It was life, boundless and eternal. And gods above, it was mighty.

With each exhale, he didn’t pull away—he gave as much as I would take. As much as I needed to calm my thundering pulse. Traces of him held me, saturating my body with something more than air. He left himself in the marrow of my bones, in the pulse of my wrists, in the spaces between each heartbeat.

I was no longer just breathing. I was becoming. 

Somewhere in the tangled mess of our situation, I hadn’t noticed Arthur bringing me back to the surface. When we finally broke through, the rush of cool ocean air kissed my cheeks, sending a shudder through me. I felt like I had just stolen something forbidden, something ancient—like I had partaken in a divine secret that was never meant for human hands. As if I had slipped past the gods unnoticed, grasping at eternity, daring to hold onto something beyond biology, beyond comprehension.

And still, despite the overwhelming weight of what had just happened between us, my instincts took over. I gasped for breath, gulping down fresh air, grounding myself in reality—even as I mourned the loss of that impossible intimacy. I pushed myself back onto the platform, slumping onto my back with a heavy huff, my limbs trembling from the lingering adrenaline. I barely registered Arthur rising beside me, his own chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths.

Poor thing. I really did steal the breath from his lungs. Literally.

The thought sent a dizzy rush through me. Had I gotten too carried away? Had I taken too much? I wasn’t even sure what too much meant in this situation. My mind reeled as I tried to make sense of it, to unravel the impossibility of what we had just shared.

“Holy shit,” I exhaled, still trying to steady my racing heart. “Arthur, why didn’t you tell me you could do that? I thought you were trying to drown me!”

I pushed up onto my elbows, my gaze locking onto his face as he hovered in the water between my legs. He looked just as disoriented as I felt, the glow in his veins pulsing slow and steady, like the aftershocks of something neither of us could fully comprehend. He blinked up at me, his gills fluttering slightly as if he was still catching his breath, too.

“M’sorry,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more careful. “I asked how long you could hold your breath… I—I thought you knew what I was doin’. I never meant to scare ya, sweetheart.”

His eyes held nothing but sincerity, and yet I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” The words came out sharper than I intended, my emotions still tangled up in the lingering panic.

Arthur flinched—not physically, but I saw the way something in him pulled back, just slightly. The guilt in his expression sent a pang of regret through my chest. He truly hadn’t meant to frighten me.

“I thought humans did it all the time,” he admitted, scratching at the back of his head. “I’ve seen ‘em press their mouths together, sharin’ breath. Never really understood why, though… Since you’ve got plenty of it up here.” He waved a webbed hand through the air as if the concept itself was baffling to him.

This caught my attention. I stared at him, dumbfounded, my heart giving an odd little stutter. Oh, Arthur. I sat up fully now, moving closer to the edge as his words sank in. He’d seen humans do it before? It took a moment for it to click, for realization to dawn over me like the slow crest of a wave. Oh. He’d seen humans kiss.

“Oh, honey, that’s not—” I hesitated, rubbing my temples with a sigh. How the hell do I even explain this to him? “It’s not the same when humans do it,” I tried again, my voice softer now. “We’re not actually sharing breath. Not like that… not like what we just did.”

Arthur tilted his head, his brows knitting together in confusion. He was trying to understand, I could see that much, but I was probably upending his entire perception of human behavior in real-time.

“Then… why do you do it?”

I let out a slow breath, trying to piece it together in a way that made sense. “It’s called kissing. It’s a way humans express affection. Like a silent conversation… a way to say things without words—like ‘I care about you,’ or ‘I want to be close to you.’” My fingers curled against the damp fabric of my wetsuit. “When two people press their mouths together, they’re sharing a connection, and sometimes…” My voice faltered, realization creeping up on me as the words formed on my tongue. Gods above. It hit me that we had just done practically the same thing. “...sometimes even a little piece of their soul.”

Arthur was completely still. His eyes, dark and fathomless, locked onto mine like the pull of the tide, widening ever so slightly as his pupils expanded. A shiver ran through me, the weight of his gaze so intense it felt like he could see straight into my core.

Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, he moved closer.

The water rippled gently around his body, his movements slow, deliberate. He mirrored the way we had sat together earlier, but this time, he braced his hands on either side of me, his arms caging me in a way that sent a deep warmth curling in my stomach. The space between us was nonexistent, the air suddenly thick, charged with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Kissing…” Arthur repeated the word, barely more than a murmur, tasting it on his tongue.

I could almost see the gears turning in his mind, the way he was processing everything I’d just said. And I knew, with startling certainty, that he was thinking the same thing I was.

What we shared underwater… was far deeper, far more intimate than any human kiss could ever be.

“Yes, kissing.” My voice came out softer than I intended, and I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat. Fuck, why did I feel so nervous? He was so close I could taste the salt on his breath, feel the warmth radiating from his skin despite the cool water between us. Those deep, knowing eyes never left mine, watching me like he could read every thought flickering through my mind.

“Th-there’s many different ways to kiss,” I went on, my voice betraying my nerves. Why the hell am I even telling him this? “It’s not always on the lips. You can kiss pretty much anywhere on the body.”

His pupils dilated slightly, the dark pools nearly eclipsing the striking blue of his irises. “Anywhere?” His voice had dropped an octave, rougher, like sea water pulling back before a crashing wave.

I nodded, feeling heat creep up my neck. “And it’s not always between partners. Parents kiss their children, relatives kiss their loved ones, some people kiss their pets.” My fingers fidgeted, he was so close now I could feel the smoothness of his chest as he drew breath. “You can even blow a kiss.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from something unreadable to pure confusion. “Why would someone do that?”

A soft giggle bubbled up my throat, his curiosity catching me off guard in the best way. “People do it when they’re beyond each other's reach. A way of sending your affection through the air.”

Feeling emboldened, I reached for his hand—broad, webbed, strong but gentle beneath my touch. His skin was cool and smooth, glistening in the fading light. Slowly, I lifted his arm and guided the back of his hand toward my lips.

“When you blow someone a kiss, you have to bring it to life before letting it go,” I explained, my voice barely above a whisper. Then, without breaking eye contact, I pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the wet space of his palm, exaggerating the smacking sound just enough to tease him.

Arthur went completely still.

I felt the tension coil in his muscles, the way his fingers twitched slightly against my own. When I pulled away, my eyes flickered to his face—and oh. His cheeks were tinted a deeper shade of pink, a faint but undeniable flush creeping along his cheekbones. Was he… blushing?

I bit my lip, suppressing a grin as warmth curled in my chest. I had just made him blush.

Arthur blinked, looking between his hand and my face like he was trying to make sense of what had just happened, like he was trying to feel something beyond the physical sensation lingering on his skin.

“There,” I said proudly, admiring my work as if I had just painted something delicate and unseen across his palm. “Now, you blow it away.”

I gently turned his hand toward the ocean, the sky now fading to a deepening indigo as the sun traded shifts with the moon. The first stars flickered to life above us, their distant glow reflecting in the water, shimmering against Arthur’s iridescent skin. Then, slowly, I blew on his palm, a soft breath carrying the invisible gift away.

Arthur inhaled sharply. His gills flared at the gesture, pulsing with some unspoken emotion.

I released his hand, but instead of pulling away, he brought it to my face. A breath hitched in my throat as the rough pad of his thumb traced over my bottom lip, dragging slowly, reverently. The touch was featherlight, but I felt it everywhere.

His fingers trembled slightly. His eyes burned with something deeper than curiosity now—an insatiable hunger, a deep, aching longing.

I heard him swallow before he spoke, his voice barely rising above the whisper of the roaring waves, rich and weighted, like he was holding himself back. “…and where does the kiss go?”

The words rolled over me, sweeping me into the depth of his need. Arthur’s gaze searched mine, pupils blown wide, his entire body coiled with restrained tension. We were already so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath, hear the tremble in his voice.

“To someone you love.”

It mattered little to me which one of us closed the distance—only that we did. The moment our lips met, the world fell away, as if time itself had paused to bear witness. The moon, ever watchful, seemed to still the tides, holding her breath in quiet admiration, offering her silent blessing.

Arthur kissed me with an aching slowness, as if savoring something precious, something fragile. His lips were warm, firm but yielding, and impossibly gentle. Nothing like before—when he was breathing life into me. No, this was different. This was the slow unraveling of restraint, the surrender to something we had long denied. The intertwining of unspoken desire, of aching need.

The ship was sinking. And I finally raised the white flag.

A shiver ran through me as I brushed my tongue against the fullness of his bottom lip, teasing, testing. He groaned—a deep, guttural sound that sent heat pooling low in my belly—and parted his lips for me.

The first stroke of his tongue against mine was devastating, deliberate, and utterly alien. Silken and warm, but textured—each ridge on the top of it dragged against my own, sending sharp, electric pulses straight down my spine. It was longer than I expected, sinuous and impossibly agile, exploring me with a slow, unrelenting hunger. I gasped into his mouth as he curled it against the roof of mine, the friction sending a deep, aching thrill through my body.

He tasted of salt, like the sea breeze just before a storm, rich and heady with something darker beneath—the faint scent of musk, the wild pull of him. My fingers reached up around his neck, one hand cradling his jaw. Desperate to keep myself tethered as I drowned in the sensation of him, the way he felt—all sharp edges and smooth restraint, barely contained.

Arthur kissed like he knew what his touch did to me, like he had been waiting to unravel me, to steal the breath from my lungs and make it his own. 

And I let him. I let him take me.

The soft bristle of his beard scraped against my skin, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His fingers skimmed my waist, pressing just enough to anchor me, as if afraid I might slip away. 

All I could taste was him. All I could breathe was him. Arthur, steady and unshakable, yet trembling with want. The only thing that mattered in this moment was us.

I didn’t need to open my eyes to see the glow of his bioluminescence. Its colorful shimmer lit up the space between us, painting the darkness behind my eyelids in swirls of deep indigo, flickering like a living halo. 

The heat of his body pressed against mine, damp and feverish, as he surged forward, rising from the water.

The platform was firm beneath me as he eased me down, his weight settling just enough to trap me beneath him. Then, suddenly, I felt it—before I even heard it. A low, resonant purr, vibrating deep in his chest and pouring into mine, rattling through my ribs like the hum of something ancient, something meant to lure and ensnare.

And like the vibration of his purr I could feel the need exuding off him in waves.

His lips crashed against mine, no longer gentle but desperate, fevered. His tongue, ribbed and serpentine, curled around mine, stroking, caressing, dragging across every sensitive nerve like he wanted to learn me by touch alone. The sensation sent a sharp pulse of need straight to my core. I moaned into his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, pressing closer, devouring me with each frantic kiss.

His bioluminescence pulsed in time with his heartbeat, casting a rhythm of shifting blues and purples against my skin. His fingers, slick with seawater, traced up my sides, leaving a cool trail that burned in contrast to the heat pooling between us. I wrapped my legs around him as strong hands curled against my waist, squeezing the tender soft flesh. 

Powerful hips rutted against mine, the hard press of something unmistakable beneath his scales sent a shudder through me. Mixed with the slick proof of his arousal, the sensation was maddening. And I had no doubt he could smell my own—if not taste it.

The kiss turned messy, wet, tongues tangling in a frantic battle for dominance neither of us cared to win. My nails scraped against his shoulders, feeling the shifting muscles beneath his damp skin, and his purr deepened—a growl mixed with something more animalistic. He nipped at my bottom lip, tugging just enough to make me whimper, then soothed the sting with another slow, dragging stroke of his tongue.

I was drowning in him, in the salt, the heat, the way he tasted like the storm rolling in over the horizon. His hunger was intoxicating, and I met it with my own, chasing every kiss, every desperate movement. 

Breath became an afterthought and the only thing that mattered to me was more.

We lay together like this for what felt like eternity, our breaths mingling in the humid air, bodies still pressed close, reluctant to part. My fingers traced lazy circles over the damp skin of his back, memorizing the ridges and dips of muscle beneath the glow that pulsed gently through his veins. Every flicker of light felt like a whisper, a secret between us.

And then he pulled away. I whimpered softly at the loss, my body instinctively arching toward him, unwilling to break the connection. A shimmering string of saliva still tethered us before he reached up, swiping his thumb over my swollen lips, his touch almost possessive.

His sapphire eyes—drowning in pools of endless black—studied me like I was something holy, something to be worshiped. His pupils had expanded so wide they reflected the moonlight itself, making him look less like a man and more like something wild that had crawled out of the deep to claim me.

He leaned in, breath warm against my ear, voice a low, husky murmur. "Did I do good?"

The words alone were enough to make me tremble, but then he nipped at the shell of my ear, his sharp teeth scraping before soothing the sting with the soft press of his lips.

I could hardly form a thought, let alone a coherent answer. His mouth was relentless, lips dragging over my throat, finding sensitive spots with an infuriating precision, nipping and sucking until I was gasping, grasping at his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. My wetsuit suddenly felt suffocating, unbearable. If he didn’t stop, I would shed it and take him right here, consequences be damned. It hardly mattered if our bodies could even fit—all that mattered was the heat, the need, the way he was unraveling me with every touch.

"Good—" I managed, the word rasping from deep in my throat, thick with want. "Doesn’t even begin to describe it. There are no words, Arthur. That was—"

He whispered something against my skin. A soft murmur, thick with devotion.

It made me pause. Whatever he said wasn’t English, and it certainly wasn’t human. The sound was rough, like the shifting of stones against the ocean floor, but it carried a melodic cadence, a fluidity that sent a shiver rolling through me.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my pulse hammering as I searched his face. "What do those words mean?"

Arthur slowly eased himself off me, sliding back into the water with a grace that reminded me he was not just a man. He belonged to the sea, to something vast and untamed, yet here he was, staring at me like I was the only thing anchoring him to this moment.

I followed him to the edge, pausing as my fingers hovered above the water.

He said the words again, softer this time.

"It has a few meanings," Arthur admitted, his gaze sweeping over my face, studying me with the quiet intensity of a painter capturing his muse. His throat tightened around the words, as if it hurt to speak. "My Ma used to say it to me when I was a kid, before I was taken."

I swallowed thickly as he held my gaze, and then he spoke the translation, each word sinking into my chest like a vow, like a promise meant only for me.

"My hearts will follow you to the end. Into every horizon."

Giving me little time to react, Arthur wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pulled me back into the dark waters. The shock of it stole my breath, the sudden cool embrace of the salt water wrapping around me like silk. The only light was his pulsing glow, shifting hues of deep indigo and soft cerulean, casting shimmering patterns against my skin. Above us, the stars blinked in quiet witness, scattered across the sky like tiny echoes of his bioluminescence that flickered beneath the waves.

I looked down, my breath hitching. The water was so dark now I could barely see the tips of my toes. An endless unknown stretched beneath me, and for the first time, I felt the tendrils of fear creeping in. My pulse pounded against my ribs, instinct screaming at me to retreat, to find solid ground.

But then I remembered his words. What they meant. What they implied. There was no turning back. I was being carried on the wind, letting the current take me where I needed to go. All I had to do was trust him.

Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the way his body moved against mine—fluid, effortless. It was like he could sense my hesitation, my uncertainty, because before I could voice it, he pulled me closer.

"Arthur…"

His warmth was a stark contrast to the cool water, his broad chest expanding with each measured breath. I could feel the steady exhale from his gills as they brushed against my thighs, sending a strange, almost soothing sensation through me. He held me tight, one strong arm wrapped securely around my waist, keeping me anchored to him, to this moment.

"There’s something I want to show you," he murmured, his voice low and steady, the promise of something unknown lingering in his tone.

"But… I—I can’t—" My throat tightened, the weight of the ocean pressing around us, reminding me of my limits. I wasn’t like him. I couldn’t breathe down there.

Arthur didn’t even let me finish the thought.

"Hush, darlin’," he soothed, his lips grazing the shell of my ear before pressing against my temple. His voice was a whispered vow, a quiet command laced with reassurance. "Let me be your breath."

Before I could protest, he sealed his lips over mine, the kiss deep and consuming, and I felt it—his breath flowing into me, warm and intoxicating. A strange sensation, like the ocean itself had bent to his will, filling my lungs with something alive.

And just like that, the fear ebbed away.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

It took a few tries to get used to Arthur breathing into my lungs. At first, it felt unnatural, like my body was rejecting the very thing keeping me alive. My nervous heart devoured each breath like a greedy little sea snake, twisting around my chest, tightening, constricting. But Arthur was patient. He never seemed to mind.

I tried to hold it longer, to prove I could endure, but it was as if he could sense my discomfort before I even knew it myself. He never let it reach the point where panic crept in, never let my lungs burn from the inside out. The moment he sensed my struggle, his strong fingers would find my chin, tilting my face toward his. And then, with a quiet kind of reverence, he would seal his lips over mine and breathe life into me.

And, like before, he was never the first to pull away. Arthur let me take as much air as I needed, as many breaths as it took to steady the wild thunder of my pulse. There was no impatience, no frustration—only trust. A trust unlike anything I had ever known.

I was completely and utterly at his mercy.

The water was darker than I had ever seen it. A thick, endless abyss stretching in every direction, swallowing everything beyond the faint glow of the facility’s underwater lights. They cast eerie, shifting beams, just enough for monitoring water levels, but not enough to truly see what lurked in the depths.

And there was so much lurking.

Every creature we passed seemed to materialize from the void, slipping through the water like ghosts from a world I was only beginning to understand. I knew these animals, had studied them, cared for them. But here, under the shroud of darkness, they felt different. Unfamiliar. As if I were a trespasser in their domain.

A particularly curious stingray drifted above us, its broad body gliding effortlessly through the water. I looked up—and nearly choked on my own scream.

The pale, ghoulish underside of its body loomed above me, its strange, human-like mouth and vacant eyes staring down with an uncanny, haunting expression. My body acted before my mind could catch up—I jerked violently, nearly kicking Arthur square in the chest, my limbs flailing in pure, unfiltered panic.

Once again, he calmed me with his breath. His warmth spread through me, steadying the frantic rhythm of my heart, and I felt it—the quiet shake of his chest, the vibration of something light, and effortless. Laughter. It bubbled up his throat, muted by the water, but I felt it, a tingling hum against my lips before we pulled away.

His fingers found my wrist, strong yet careful, guiding my hand upward. With a slow, deliberate touch, he traced his thumb along my palm, unfurling my fingers one by one.

The stingray hovered just above us, its massive wings rippling like silk through the water. And then, with a slow, ghostly glide, it brushed its velvety skin over the tips of my fingers. Like a whisper, like a greeting.

I had touched stingrays before, plenty of times in the shallow touch-tank, where children giggled and splashed, reaching out to feel the slippery softness of their skin. But never like this. Never in their world, where the touch was theirs to give. It wasn’t me reaching out—it was them, exploring me.

He lifted his hand in front of me, and what he did next sent warmth blooming deep in my belly. With deliberate care, he hooked our index fingers together—a silent sign, one I recognized instantly. Friend.

My chest tightened at the realization. Not only had Arthur remembered that fleeting moment we shared when he was bleeding out on the beach, but he had learned the gesture. He had taken it as his own, stored it away like something precious, something worth keeping.

A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down, curling my finger a little tighter around his.

I made a quiet promise to teach him more later.

Arthur pulled me forward, guiding me through a submerged tunnel. The familiar structure clicked in my mind, recognition settling in my bones. We were entering the back section of the tank—the place away from prying eyes, from tourists pressing their faces against glass. This was his sanctuary. Where he spent his time when he wasn’t with me or the girls.

Curiosity sparked in my chest. What does he want to show me down here?

We swam deeper, the water thick with shadow, but I trusted his grip, the steady pull of his hands as he led me forward. And then, nestled within the rock and kelp, I saw it.

A small cave. A hidden space tucked away in the depths of the tank. I wasn’t sure how I knew—but I did. This was where he slept.

Something about it felt lived in, personal. The flattened kelp was arranged in a circular shape, almost like a nest. It wasn’t just a hiding place. It was his. I could picture him here, curled up in the quiet dark, unguarded, safe. For the first time since I had met him, I wondered what it felt like for him to rest. Unguarded, unshackled, away from cold prying eyes. To just be. 

Arthur pulled me inside, his arm wrapping instinctively around my waist as his bioluminescence flared to life. Light bloomed from his skin, illuminating the space in shifting blues and purples, and what I saw nearly stole the breath from my lungs.

The rock-like walls were etched with various drawings, their rough surfaces covered in markings that varied in detail and size. Some depicted the sea life he shared the tank with—familiar outlines of stingrays, sharks, seals and fish. Others were delicate sketches of underwater plants, their flowing tendrils stretching across the stone like living things.

Curiosity tugged at me, pulling me away from Arthur’s side. I swam closer, reaching out to trace my fingers over the carvings. The grooves were deep, uneven, reminding me of ancient cave drawings. He must have used his claws, carefully etching each image into the stone, leaving behind proof of his existence in this lonely place.

Behind me, Arthur was searching for something, his large hands sifting through layers of kelp. He reached beneath the safety of his makeshift bed, pulling out something dark and solid. But my attention was still on the walls, my heart hammering as I took in every detail of his underwater art.

Then, Arthur waved a hand, pulling me from my trance. I turned to him just as he pointed toward the farthest side of the cave.

And I released my breath.

There, among the sketches of fish and plants—was me.

It was a simple drawing, lacking the fine details of his other works, but it didn’t matter. With the rough material he had to work with, it was still a masterpiece. My heart ached at the sight of it, at the thought of him carving me into the walls of his world.

But it was what he did next that truly unraveled me.

Arthur lifted a webbed palm to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his skin. Then, with a small smile, he released a stream of bubbles toward the drawing—just like I had taught him. An expression of affection, a gesture so sweet it made my chest tighten.

I could have kissed him right then and there. Well, I tried to.

But this gentle giant, ever concerned for my well-being, misunderstood my intent. The moment our lips met, he must have thought I was seeking air. He held me there for a breath longer, and though I wished I could stay pressed against him forever, he was already wrapping a strong arm around my waist, propelling us forward with effortless strength.

I barely had time to process what had just happened before we were darting out of the cave, leaving the warmth of his sanctuary behind.

Arthur still held something tightly in his other palm, and as he guided me through the darkened waters, I realized we were heading somewhere new.

The temperature dropped, the light fading into near blackness.

The deep sea exhibit.

Once we reached a spot he found satisfactory, we floated in utter stillness. The silence of the deep pressed around us, thick and all-encompassing, making me acutely aware of my own heartbeat thrumming in my ears. The nerves crept up my spine again, cold and slithering.

It was pitch black.

I couldn’t see my own hands in front of me, couldn’t even make out Arthur’s features except for the faintest shimmer of his dimmed bioluminescence. He was holding back, keeping his glow subdued, and I had no idea why.

Why did he bring me here?

Then, all at once, his light flared to life.

The sudden brilliance stunned me, a galaxy of blues and purples bursting from his skin like a supernova in the dark. But it wasn’t just him, his radiance set off a chain reaction.

And the void around us moved.

At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but then I saw them—hundreds of creatures emerging from the abyss, answering his call.

Arthur was a beacon, and the deep-sea life responded to him like moths to a flame. Lanternfish flickered in and out of sight, their tiny lights winking like stars in the midnight ocean. Jellies pulsed with ghostly luminescence, their delicate tendrils undulating as they drifted past. Squid, cuttlefish, sea angels—so many creatures I couldn’t begin to name—came to life before my eyes, weaving in and out of the glow like spirits caught between worlds.

They surrounded us in a slow, mesmerizing dance, silent sentinels bearing witness to whatever was about to unfold.

And at the center of it all was him.

Arthur’s radiance was breathtaking, his skin an ever-shifting nebula of color and light. But it wasn’t just his appearance that captivated me—it was the way the ocean responded to him, how it bent to his presence, how even the wildest, most elusive creatures drifted close as if he were something sacred.

He was neither fully man nor entirely mythical. He was something else entirely.

Something that felt indescribable. And in that moment, in the hush of the deep, I understood this pull toward him for what it truly was.

Love.

The solid object he had brought with him turned out to be a large oyster shell, its rough surface barely catching the faint, shifting glow of his bioluminescence. Holding it steady in one hand, he traced a pointed claw along its lip, prying it open with slow, practiced ease.

I watched him with quiet reverence as his fingers slipped inside, moving carefully, deliberately, as if retrieving something precious. When he finally pulled his hand free, his fingers curled tightly around whatever lay within—his fist closing around it with such purpose that my breath crawled up my throat.

A pearl. It had to be.

The empty shell drifted downward, spiraling slowly to the bottom of the tank, forgotten. Arthur didn’t watch it sink. His full attention was on me.

His hands found mine, and the moment our fingers met, my pulse thundered. Heat raced through my veins, my entire body suddenly hyper aware of the weight of the moment, of the way the water seemed charged around us. Before I could even find the words to ask what he was doing, his hand rose, his palm pressing gently against the curve of my neck.

Then, he breathed into me. Warmth spread through my lungs, steadying me, grounding me, but this time, it felt different. Because when he pulled away, his lips still so close I could feel the lingering press of his breath—his mouth moved.

Arthur was speaking. The realization sent a shiver rolling through me. And then I heard it.

His voice.

It was nothing like the deep, gravelly tone I knew from above water. Here, in his element, it was something else entirely.

A melody.

A song, resonant and fluid, shifting in pitch like the ebb and flow of the tide. It wasn’t just words—it was music, a chorus of sound that wrapped around me, kissed the deepest parts of me. It filled my chest, soaked into my bones, made my skin hum with the rhythm of it.

It was haunting. And heavenly.

Tears pricked at my eyes. I didn’t even understand the words, but I felt them. Like a current pulling me deeper, like a promise whispered between waves. And in that moment, I knew—he wasn’t just speaking.

He was singing to me.

Arthur opened his palm, revealing the pearl nestled against the warm glow of his skin. Its milky-white surface shimmered beneath the shifting blues and purples, catching the light like a tiny piece of the moon itself.

A gift. For me.

My heart thundered, a deep, resounding pulse that seemed to echo through every fiber of my being. My mind raced, recalling everything I had learned about his kind—about the significance of this. Gift-giving was a siren’s way of accepting courtship, of expressing mutual desire, a bond far deeper than mere affection.

Did sirens mate for life? Could they have more than one? Am I his first?

Why, of all creatures, did Arthur choose me?

The questions crashed over me like waves against the shore, relentless and unyielding. But then I looked at him. And every uncertainty melted away.

His gaze, luminous and breathtaking, held nothing but certainty. The sweetest smile tugged at his lips, his blue eyes alive with glowing radiance. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his expression. Only him—only us.

His lips moved again, shaping the words I now recognized, a melody that sent warmth cascading through me.

My hearts will follow you to the end.

Emotion swelled in my chest, thick and all-consuming. I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his, closing the pearl between our palms—sheltering it, protecting it. Safe from the darkness of the tank, from the weight of the unknown, from all the uncertainties that once held me back. It was ours now, cradled between our touch, a silent vow sealed in the space where our hands met.

Arthur had brought light into my life, breath into my lungs, and adventure into my soul.

And as I pressed my lips to his, I knew—I would follow him too.

Into every horizon.

AN: Listen, lets just ignore the fact that aquarium tanks are absolutely NOT built like this. And we’re also gonna pretend that the reader can see underwater bc I forgot to add the goggles. OH WELL. We're getting creative. With the way everything is going, I'm hoping that the reader gets to fuck her fish man (husband) by chapter 9. YOU GO GIRL!

Also enjoy these inspo pics from that last scene. Utterly gorgeous creatures!! (CR to frida.yolotzin on instagram!)

[fatphobiabusters]

idk if this is the right place to ask, and i apologize if it is not. but i have been wondering: what is the best thing a skinny person can say when a fat person talks about losing weight with them? i have had some people talk to me about their weight loss goals or their feeling like they want to or need to lose weight, and i usually just listen and don't say anything/just nod along because i don't know what the right thing to say is. i don't want to invalidate their feelings but i also don't want to validate fatphobic messaging from the surrounding environment. sorry if this is silly to ask, but i can never figure out what the least harmful thing to say is

I don't think your ask is silly at all. I can definitely see the dilemma there. I appreciate you wanting to not validate fatphobic messaging.

I think the best course of action would majorly depend on the situation/person you're dealing with. A lot of fat people are still gripped by the piercing claws of fatphobic rhetoric and diet culture. In those situations, it may be a good idea to focus on "planting the seed." That is, focus on starting future change. Plant the seed and let it grow, even if you don't see the future growth yourself.

I remember having to take a persuasion and media class during my bachelor's degree. It was such an eye-opening course, and the part I still strongly remember to this day is that...we probably aren't going to succeed in changing a person's deeply-held beliefs in the moment with a single conversation. Changing that belief will take years. So that's why I focus a lot on being the person who plants the seed. Even if I don't change this person's mind today, I have planted the seed for possible growth years later. This informs how I interact with fatphobic people, and remembering this also helps my mental health so I don't feel horrible when a person doesn't immediately change.

A way you could implement this "plant the seed" method is by being a role model and simply saying "I don't think I like talking about weight loss. Weight is a very nuanced and complex thing. I don't want to focus on conformity to thinness." This way, you're showing the person that there's another option out there beyond the lifelong chasing of thinness. This method of focusing on your own boundaries also can help prevent a debate or argument. "Is it okay if we don't talk about weight? I feel like this world views thinness as the ultimate achievement, but more bodies than just thin bodies have worth. I'd feel more comfortable talking about something else, if that's alright."

You're stating your own belief and boundaries rather than telling the other person to have those beliefs and boundaries themself. You're not attacking the person or asking the person to change. You're not asking for a debate. You're not even asking for their thoughts on the topic. But by gently putting your foot down, you have established your view and put another option on that person's radar that they probably didn't know of beforehand. This role model method can be the first crack in the shattering of the glass for that person's beliefs about weight and this fatphobic society.

Also, this may be the autism in me, but maybe being straightforward with communication can help? "I'm not sure how to respond since I'm a thin person, so I've had a very different life experience and don't know everything you have gone through as a plus size person*. I don't believe thinness and weight loss are the answer, but I'm not sure how to respectfully talk about this complex topic as a thin person. I hope this helps you better understand my thoughts." I put an asterisk after "plus size person" because "fat person" shouldn't be a taboo word. However, a fat person who hasn't done any unlearning of internalized fatphobia likely isn't ready to use that word to describe themself. So, it's probably safer to call them a "plus size person" instead.

I hope these strategies will help!

-Mod Worthy

[geowrites03]

A Part of the Family

Part 1 ~ Getting Adopted

Batfam x Fem!Orphan!Reader

Summary: Y/n is just another kid left out on the harsh streets of Gotham, all having to fend for themselves. She however had a friend in low places. But, what will happen if this friend gets sent to Arkham Asylum? Who will she have to save her from the dangers of this god awful city?

“Waylon!” I called out as I stomped on the manhole cover to get his attention. He usually came by now, I hope the Bat didn’t get him again. But much to my shitty luck.

“It’s no use kid, Batman got him last night.” I look over to see Selina there. She isn’t wearing her Catwoman suit which is surprising because of how late it is.

“You probably helped him somehow, too.” She looked at me quizzical. “Everyone knows that the Cat and the Bat got something going on.”

“Okay, but what if I say that, I didn’t help him?” She came closer and wrapped her arm around me so we could walk to somewhere else because she noticed a small group of sketchy guys walking towards me.

“Then I guess I can… Share some of my food? I usually split it with Waylon, but…” She laughed and shook her head.

“No I was kidding, I don’t want anything. You can keep all the food to yourself tonight.” She stopped walking and put each of her hands on either of my shoulders. “I take that back, I want one thing. You to stay safe, Waylon won’t be back for awhile ‘cause he always takes forever to escape, so please, stay out of trouble.”

I nodded and gripped one of her hands for reassurance. “I promise.” She smiled down at me, then got a message on her phone.

“I have to go now. Bye, and I mean it, Stay Out Of Trouble.” I nodded again as she ran off.

I looked around to see if the group of guys was still following us but it looks like we lost ‘em. Now all I have to do is find a place to eat my food.

Deciding that up on a hard to get to roof would be best, I put my food in my backpack so I don’t drop it. I climb up onto a dumpster, jump to a ledge and climb up a pipe. It wasn’t that hard to onto which made me a little uneasy but nobody would be that desperate to jump from a dumpster to a skinny ledge and then climb up a single, small, water pipe for 5 stories.

I get my food out of my bag, I got what I always get. A cheap burger and a small, curly fries from a small take out shop. But tonight, because I can’t give Waylon his and I already bought it, I get double that, besides the fries being a large, and some nuggets. I was feasting tonight.

I couldn’t eat all of it though, I still had the extra burger, some fries and some nuggets left. I put them back in the takeout bag and into my backpack. I slide down the pipe and jump to the ground from when it ends. When my feet hit the ground I’m met with a voice I wasn’t planning on hearing tonight.

“What were you doing on a restricted rooftop?” The latest Robin’s voice called. I looked his slightly lean figure up and down, rolled my eyes and walked away from him.

“Look, why don’t you go deal with some actual crimes, rather than someone just trying to find a safe place to eat.” He scoffed and started walking the opposite direction. I decided to be extra bitchy, not caring who I’m talking to, even though I could most definitely out run him. “And thanks for putting Croc away too.”

“Why are you sarcastic about me putting away a villain that deserves it? Shouldn’t you be relieved that a threat is off the streets?”

“A threat? Waylon was the only person looking out for some of us kids living on the streets who can’t protect themselves. Those random ‘defenceless’ guys that kept showing up in the ER nearly scratched to death? That was him protecting us. Now some of us have noway to protect ourselves.”

~

After a mini dispute with Robin I was back to my usual activities of pickpocketing random people walking down the street, while keeping an eye out for quiet safe spaces to sleep for the night.

Just like most nights there weren’t really any ‘safe’ places so I decided to stay awake and moving all night. I sighed, I haven’t slept in 4 days and it was really starting to take its toll on me.

I was walking for a while when I finally caught onto a car that has been following me for awhile tonight. I subtly try to look at it to see if I could possibly identify it. I could, it was one of the orphanage coordinators cars. I also notice a police car behind it so I couldn’t try and run again. These bitches are really persistent.

I stop walking and the car pulled up next to me. The driver rolled down the window, it was one of the old and rude coordinators.

Bruce’s POV~

“Look Lee, I already said that I’m not currently in the position to take in another kid, I have enough on my plate.” I sighed talking to the woman on the other line. “As much as I would love to help a child in need, I just can’t at the moment, I’m sorry.”

“Please, Bruce she’s already gotten in too much trouble at the orphanage and is on her last strike.” The hospital where Lee works helps out the Gotham Orphanage by providing free health checks and regular check-ups, so she is often concerned about these kids. “She’s on a 5-strike system, but she’s already run away 5 times Bruce. This was the last straw before they kick her out, please. Even if it’s just for a little while to see how she’ll adapt.”

“Can I think about it overnight?” She agreed and I ended the phone call.

Y/n’s POV~

Here I was back in this horrendous room, just for one night though, they finally want me out. I put my small amount of belongings that were surprisingly still here in a duffle bag then climbed into bed.

I wondered where I would end up being sent, or if they even had anything planned for me at all. It wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep.

~

One of the coordinators, Jessie, woke me up with a harsh shake and ushered me out of bed and to get changed. She left as I was getting changed so I had the opportunity to slip a pocket knife into my bra, another in my pocket of my shorts, another in the inside pocket of my jacket, and one down my sock but not visible due to my shoe.

I gathered my two bags, had the duffle bag hanging off of one shoulder and backpack on the other shoulder.

“Oh. No, leave them there for now, you’re only going to meet with him.” She said when I opened the door.

“Him?” I asked confused while putting my bags on the bed that was most likely no longer mine.

“Yes him,” she nodded and ushered me out of the room. “He might adopt you, and if he doesn’t then I don’t even want to know where the head of the orphanage is going to send you.”

I merely nodded and followed her into an office where the head of the orphanage, Agatha, and Bruce Wayne were already sitting. Across the table from them there was an empty chair and another on the side of the table, that Jessie had already made herself comfortable in.

“Don’t be shy, y/n you can sit down.” She had said to me, I looked at her and sat down in the chair.

“Y/n this is Bruce Wayne,” she put on one of her big, wrinkly, fake smiles, and I rolled my eyes. Of course it’s Bruce Wayne, I don’t live under a rock, though I might have lived inside of one at the current state of this orphanage, “he might end up adopting you today.”

“Hi y/n.” He stretched his hand out to me for me to shake, I looked to Jessie. Then at his outstretched hand, then at his face. I shook his hand while looking in his eyes and let out a weak ‘hi’.

~

Meeting him didn’t go that well but I seemed to have made somewhat an impression, considering I was now on the drive to Wayne Manor. The drive was already too long and boring, he had stopped trying to ask questions, as I would only give him small mumbled answers.

I looked around the interior of the backseat of his car. I was distracted by something when he said, “I’m sure you don’t need a pocket knife on you, let alone four.”

I was shocked by his words and that he knew how many I had on me, and to be honest, I didn't know why I had four to begin with, it was definitely a little extreme to have that many on me, so I played it off with a shrug.

“I collected them.” I lied, “and I couldn't carry them out in my bag because it got checked by one of the workers, so I kept them on me.”

“You have a lying problem, kid, but you don’t have to lie anymore, you’re safe now.” Was all he responded with as he kept his eyes on the road.

Did he just guess that my lying was a form of protection? He wasn't wrong, but I was still surprised he caught on, how could a billionaire CEO be so perceptive? Was it because he had taken in other orphans and guessed based on their behaviours, or was there more to the story?

[buckets-and-trees]

I am even more excited about Fridays because of you and Presidential Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. I’m so looking forward to how everything turns out with those two!

Well, nonnie, we're finally back!

Red, White & True: Tuscon & Denver [12/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, side of Bucky and Sam Word Count: 4.7k Summary: Your mom joins the campaign trail.

Content/Warnings: political policy discussion, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Author Notes: For the seventh day of the Valentine Storygrams!

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[OCTOBER 12 - TUCSON, ARIZONA]

The tension between your mother and Steve simmers beneath the surface over the next two hours. You try to keep things light, showing your mother around campaign bus and introducing her to more of the staff. But there's an undercurrent of unease that you can't shake.

At the hotel the campaign’s logistical director has managed to assign adjoined rooms to you and your mom. After changing into your pajamas, you knock on the door that connects you, and a moment later your mom opens up. The two of you sit on one of the queen beds and begin to talk, just the two of you. There’s much less tension, and she gives you stories and updates about family and friends and old neighbors from your old home. You soak up the nostalgia, but it also feels strange to hear about all the normal things happening - so opposite from your whirlwind days and weeks on the campaign.

Your phone buzzes with a message, and you pause your conversation briefly to check what it says. “It’s just a couple of logistical updates for tomorrow morning,” you say, before looking back up.

When you do, you see your mother’s expression has changed. Now she’s watching you with a pensive expression as she rests against the pillows piled up in front of the headboard.

“What is it?” you prod.

"Honey," she begins, her voice careful. "Are you sure about all this?"

"What do you mean?"

You knew at some point the two of you were due to have this conversation. It’s a conversation that had begun to grow into an argument that had been deterred only by your father father insisting that the two of you not get into it on your wedding day.

She sighs, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the bedspread. "This campaign. Running for office. It's just so much pressure, so much scrutiny. After what happened with those awful photos, I can't help but worry about you. Is this really what you want?"

You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. "Mom, I know it's not an easy path. But yes, this is what I want. I believe in Steve and what he stands for. And I believe I can make a difference by his side."

Your mother's brow furrows. "But at what cost? Your privacy, your peace of mind? I saw how those false accusations affected you - it’s why I’m here, why Steve called and asked me to come. And that's just the beginning. If Steve wins, your whole life will be under a microscope."

You nod, acknowledging her concerns. "I know. And it's not always easy. But Mom, the good we can do outweighs the challenges. I've seen firsthand how Steve inspires people, how he brings out the best in them. The plans he intends to put into action based on what he wants to do for the people? I want to be part of that."

She shakes her head slightly. "But honey, you barely knew him when you got married. And now you're in the middle of this huge campaign. Don't you think it's all happening a bit fast?"

You can't help but bristle at her words, even as you try to understand her perspective. "Mom, I know it seems fast from the outside. But Steve and I... we've been through so much together already. The campaign has only brought us closer."

Your mother reaches out, taking your hand in hers. "I just worry about you, sweetheart. I’ll always worry about you. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy, Mom," you say, squeezing her hand. "Yes, there are challenges, but I'm doing something I believe in."

She studies your face for a long moment, then nods slowly. "I can see that. I just... I guess I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of this. My little girl, potentially becoming the First Lady of the United States."

You chuckle softly. "Trust me, I still don’t feel like that could be real, even though getting Steve elected is our only goal and fuels everything we do. I’m glad you’re here - you’ll be able to see what we do, and what I’ve seen while we do it.”

You can see your mother's expression soften slightly as she listens, though you can sense there is more she’s still thinking about.

"Tell me more about what you've seen," she says, leaning forward slightly. "What's it really been like out there on the campaign trail?"

You can't help but smile, feeling a surge of enthusiasm as you begin to share your experiences.

"Oh Mom, it really is incredible," you say, your voice filled with wonder. "We've been to so many places, met so many amazing people. There was this small town in Iowa where the entire community came out to hear Steve speak. They had handmade signs and everything. And in Detroit, we visited this incredible urban farm that's providing fresh produce to food deserts in the city."

Your mother listens intently as you continue, describing the passionate volunteers who work tirelessly for the campaign that you’re meeting across the country, the vibrant energy of rallies in big cities, the intimate town halls in small communities, and the countless conversations with people you never would have met across every pocket of America.

"We met this incredible woman in New Mexico who's been fighting for clean water rights for her community for decades. And in Florida, we toured a cutting-edge renewable energy facility that's creating jobs and combating climate change. Every day, I'm learning so much about the issues facing our country and the innovative solutions people are developing."

You tell her about the late-night strategy sessions with the campaign team, the thrill of seeing poll numbers climb, and the humbling moments when you've comforted supporters who've shared their personal struggles.

"It sounds amazing," your mother admits, a hint of awe in her voice. "I can see why you're so passionate about it all."

You nod eagerly. "It really is, Mom. I feel like I'm part of something so much bigger than myself."

Your mother's expression softens further, a mix of pride and concern in her eyes. "I can see how much this means to you, sweetheart. And I'm proud of you for being so passionate and dedicated." She pauses, squeezing your hand. "But I want you to remember something important."

You tilt your head, waiting for her to continue.

"You are still important," she says firmly. "You, as an individual, not just as Steve's wife or as part of this campaign. Don't lose yourself in all of this."

Her words remind you of something Helen Santos once said to you, about the importance of maintaining your own identity amidst the whirlwind of the campaign. You nod, acknowledging the truth in her statement.

"I know. I'm trying to keep that balance. It's not easy, but I'm learning."

She squeezes your hand gently. "And what about that awful photo scandal? Are you really okay? I know you’ve shown such a put-together and brave face for the media, and even for me tonight, but I’m your mother, you don’t need to be strong for me."

You take a deep breath, feeling a familiar tightness in your chest at the mention of the incident. It’s surreal to believe it only happened yesterday morning.

"It was hard, Mom. Really hard," you admit, your voice catching slightly. "When I first saw those photos, I felt like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. I was terrified, embarrassed, and angry all at once. It was like my world had been yanked out from under me."

You take a shaky breath, feeling the echo of the emotions of that moment. "I couldn't stop thinking about all the people who would see those photos, judge me, make assumptions about who I am. For a while, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was terrified it would derail everything we've worked for - and all the worse because the photos aren’t even real."

Your mother wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You lean into her embrace, grateful for her presence.

You continue, "But then, as we dealt with the fallout, as I spoke with our team and supporters, I realized that this wasn't just about me or the campaign. It was about a much bigger issue - the lack of understanding and support for women's health in our country."

You pause, feeling a surge of passion as you continue. "It’s only been a day since I’ve started to learn more, and I’m just stunned by the amount of things I did’t know, Mom. Like did you know that it takes an average of seven to ten years for a woman to be diagnosed with endometriosis? Or that heart attack symptoms in women are often dismissed as anxiety?”

Your mother nods, her eyes widening. "I remember when your Aunt Sarah was struggling with her symptoms for years before they finally diagnosed her fibromyalgia. The doctors kept telling her it was just stress or depression."the

"Exactly!" you exclaim. "And it's not just about diagnosis. It's about research funding, access to care, and education. Did you know that for decades, most medical research was conducted primarily on men? Even in animal studies, they used male rats and mice. It means we have huge gaps in our understanding of how diseases and treatments affect women differently."

As you speak, you feel a familiar fire igniting within you. It's the same passion that drove you to join Steve's campaign in the first place - the desire to make a real difference in people's lives.

"And then there's the stigma," you continue, your words tumbling out faster now. "So many women's health issues are shrouded in shame and silence. Menstrual health, fertility struggles, menopause - these are all normal parts of women's lives, but we barely talk about them openly. And don't even get me started on maternal mortality rate in the United States. It's shockingly high for a developed country, especially for women of color. Black women are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than white women. It's a crisis that's not getting nearly enough attention."

You pause, taking a breath. "The more I learn, the more I realize how much needs to change, and if Steve gets elected, this will be one of my initiatives as First Lady.”

Your mother's eyes widen as she listens to you speak, a mixture of pride and admiration crossing her face. "Honey, I had no idea you'd become so… well, I’m... I'm just so impressed, and I couldn’t agree with you more."

You lean forward, your eyes bright with excitement. "I've been thinking about how we could approach this. We could start with a nationwide listening tour, hearing directly from women about their experiences with the healthcare system. We could partner with medical schools to promote more inclusive research practices. And we could launch a public awareness campaign to break down the stigma.”

Your mother's enthusiasm is palpable, and you can see the wheels turning in her mind as she absorbs all the information you've shared. Suddenly, an idea strikes you, and you feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins.

"Mom," you begin, your voice brimming with anticipation, "You've always been so passionate about women, about building strong communities, and you have such a way with words. Would you maybe... want to help us build out the messaging for this initiative while you're here?"

Her eyes widen, a mix of surprise and delight dancing across her features. "Me? But you know I'm not a political strategist or a healthcare expert."

You shake your head, grinning. "That's why you would be great! We have plenty of experts and strategists. We need is heads in the room who can translate all of the complexities into real-woman information. And this could be ongoing - after you go home, you could coordinate and consult remotely easy as anything.”

Your mother's eyes light up, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh honey, I would love that. I've… I haven’t really said this to anyone, but I’ve been starting to wonder what I could do that would mean something getting older, and this feels like something I could really contribute to."

You feel a small lump in your throat at her admission - something that clearly had been worrying her - and now you’re even more enthusiastic about how things are developing with this initiative. Not only has your mother begun to understand your passion for the opportunity this campaign and opportunity could bring, but she's now eager to be a part of it.

"Oh, Mom! I can't wait to introduce you to the team and get your insights. We could start tomorrow morning if you're up for it."

She nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I'll need to brush up on some of these issues, but I'm ready to dive in."

You continue to discuss potential ideas and strategies, and you feel a shift in the energy between you and your mother. The tension from earlier - from the months since you married Steve, honestly - has dissipated, replaced by a shared sense of purpose and excitement.

You and your mother continue talking late into the night, brainstorming ideas and sharing stories. As the conversation winds down, you feel a deep sense of gratitude wash over you. Not only has your mother come to understand your passion for the campaign, but she's now eager to contribute her own skills and experiences.

"Mom," you say softly, "thank you for being here. For listening and for wanting to be part of this."

She smiles warmly, pulling you into a hug. "Oh, honey. I'm so proud of you. I may not have understood at first, but I can see now how much good you're doing, how much this means to you."

As you settle into bed that night, your mind is buzzing with possibilities. You send a quick text to Steve, updating him on your conversation with your mother and her willingness to help with the women's health initiative. His response is immediate and enthusiastic.

STEVE: That's fantastic! I’m sure your mom's perspective will be invaluable. Can't wait to discuss more tomorrow.💙

You heart flips over his use of the heart emoji, but his response in general makes you smile, loving how your lives are moving forward, your relationship, and the ease you feel to share everything with him now. You’re feeling a renewed sense of purpose and excitement for what lies ahead. As you drift off to sleep, you find yourself imagining the potential impact of this initiative, the lives it could touch, and the changes it could bring.

[OCTOBER 13 - TUCSON, ARIZONA]

The next morning, you wake early, eager to start the day. After a quick shower and getting dressed, you knock on your mother's adjoining door. She answers promptly, already dressed and looking just as excited as you feel.

"Ready for your first official strategy meeting?" you ask with a grin.

Your mother smiles a little nervously, but her eyes are still twinkling with anticipation. "I suppose so. Lead the way."

You guide her down to one of the hotel's conference rooms for the current makeshift campaign headquarters. As you enter, you're greeted by the familiar buzz of activity - staffers huddled over laptops, phones ringing, and the ever-present aroma of coffee.

Steve is already there, engaged in a conversation with the communications team, but he breaks away when he sees you and your mother enter. He strides over, a warm smile on his face.

"Good morning," he says, giving you a quick kiss before turning to your mother. "I'm so glad you're joining the team. Your daughter tells me you have some great ideas for our women's health initiative."

Your mother nods. "Thank you for having me. I'm looking forward to contributing."

And her smile - the real one - is gone.

Oh.

Your eyes flicker to Steve, and although his expression remains open, you notice the note of wariness behind his eyes.

Things had gone so well with your mom you forgot the little issue of her not liking Steve.

As the tension threatens to settle in, you're saved by Mariah, the campaign's health policy advisor, who sweeps into the room with an armful of folders and a tablet balanced precariously on top.

"Oh good, you're all here!" she exclaims, her curly hair bouncing as she sets down her load on the nearest table. "I've got some amazing data from our latest focus groups, and I think it's really going to shape our approach."

Steve checks his watch and grimaces slightly. "I'm afraid I have to leave for that appearance on 'Good Morning Tucson' in half an hour minutes." He turns to you and your mother. "I'm sorry I can't stay, but I'm looking forward to hearing all about it later. I know you'll come up with some fantastic ideas."

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. "No worries, we've got it covered. Good luck at the tv station.”

With a quick squeeze of your hand and a polite nod to your mother, Steve heads out of the room. You turn back to see your mother's smile has become a bit more forced.

"Well," you say brightly, trying to dispel the awkwardness, "shall we get started?"

Mariah nods enthusiastically, gesturing for you and your mother to join her at the table with other members of the team. As you settle in, she begins to lay out the data from the focus groups, explaining the key findings and areas of concern that have emerged.

Your mother listens intently, her brow furrowed in concentration. You can see her analytical mind working, processing the information and forming connections. Despite her initial coolness towards Steve, you can tell she's fully engaged with the topic at hand, and she easily builds rapport with the rest of the team.

[OCTOBER 15 - DENVER, COLORADO]

"Hey, you," you say as you collapse into the seat next to Steve on the campaign bus. It's been a whirlwind few days since leaving Tucson, with back-to-back events across Arizona and New Mexico before arriving in Colorado. Along with interviews and slew of daily meetings, you've barely had a moment to catch your breath, let alone spend any quality time with Steve.

The bus rumbles to life, pulling away from the community center where Steve just finished giving a rousing speech on education reform. Through the tinted windows, you can see the crowd still waving signs and cheering as you depart.

Steve looks up from his tablet, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Hey yourself," he replies, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eye. "Oh really? And here I thought you might be avoiding me. Have you perhaps developed an aversion to your lovely wife?"

Your tone is light, but there's a genuine curiosity beneath the playfulness.

Steve chuckles, but you catch a flicker of something—nervousness?—in his eyes. "Avoiding you? Never. How could I possibly want to avoid the most captivating woman in the world?" He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You narrow your eyes and try to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his affection, not quite buying his charm offensive at face value. "Mmm-hmm. So if you're not avoiding me, perhaps you're avoiding someone else? Someone who happens to be my mother?"

Steve's smile falters slightly, and he lets out a small sigh. "Is it that obvious?"

You give him a knowing look.

He runs a hand over his beard. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so transparent. It's just your mother clearly doesn't approve of me, or of our relationship, and I guess I've been trying to avoid giving her more ammunition."

You feel a pang of sympathy for Steve. Your mother's disapproval has been weighing on you too, but you hadn't realized how much it was getting to Steve - your confident husband, the man who seems so fearless and unflagging.

"Steve, I've seen you face down hostile reporters and debate seasoned politicians without breaking a sweat. Hell, you battled Thanos and his legions twice. But every time my mom enters the room, you suddenly have an urgent phone call or meeting to attend."

“Thanos was nothing to your mother.”

You scoff, playing up being very affronted. “Are you really saying my mom is scarier than Thanos?”

He laughs. “Yeah, in a way. I only needed to defeat him, not get on his good side.”

You better angle your body to him, and pull his hand into your lap, holding it in both of yours. You can see he’s thinking, so you keep quiet and let him speak.

“I've been feeling a bit out of my depth with your mom. I know how important she is to you, and I want her to like me, but I can't shake the feeling that she's judging my every move."

You nod, understanding dawning. "She can be a bit intense. She's always been protective of me. And our sudden marriage didn't do anything to ease any potential concerns. I don’t know if she would have been more accepting of the arrangement if I’d handled it differently because… well, it was what it was, but…”

You sigh.

“She was very alarmed over how quickly everything happened, and so I did tell her it was a marriage of political strategy and convenience just before the ceremony. I was trying to reassure her that there was no pressure, nothing to be concerned about, but it didn’t make her any happier, just shifted the nature of her concerns.”

Steve looks at you, his expression a mix of surprise and understanding. "I see. That explains a lot."

You nod, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about that conversation earlier. When it happened, we weren’t really…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize for that. I didn’t foster any real, deeper connection in the beginning.”

“…and then things between us changed so quickly," you continued.

Steve squeezes your hand reassuringly. "Again, no need to apologize. I understand. And you're right, things did change fast between us. I still can't believe how lucky I am."

His words warm your heart, but you can still see the worry in his eyes. "Steve, my mom's opinion is important to me, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. We're in this together, remember?"

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Together. I like the sound of that. More and more every time we say it.”

“Me, too,” you reply.

Suddenly the rumbling of the bus and the chatter of staff members fades away.

Steve's eyes soften as he gazes at you, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the bus windows bathes him in a warm glow, highlighting the flecks of green in his blue eyes and the gentle curve of his lips. You feel a familiar flutter in your chest, a mix of affection and desire that seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

As if drawn by an invisible force, Steve leans forward, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is feather-light, reverent, as if he's still amazed that he's allowed to touch you like this. You find yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours.

The kiss starts soft, a gentle press of lips, but quickly deepens as Steve pulls you closer. His beard tickles your skin, a sensation that never fails to send shivers through you.

Steve's lips move against yours with a tenderness that ignites sparks beneath your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, and he pulls you closer. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, a comforting heat that makes you feel safe and cherished.

You taste a hint of coffee on his breath, mingled with the spearmint of his favorite gum. The scent of his cologne envelops you, now so familiar and intoxicating. Your free hand hands finds its way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

The kiss is intense yet affectionate, a perfect balance of passion and emotion. Steve's lips move against yours with a reverence that makes your heart swell, and you find yourself wanting more, but remember where you are.

You break off the kiss, but you want to stay close and so rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing a little heavier. The world around you slowly comes back into focus - the rumble of the bus engine, the murmur of conversations from campaign staff, the whir of laptops. But for a moment longer, you stay in this intimate bubble, savoring the closeness.

You reach up, running your fingers along his jawline, feeling the soft bristles of his beard against your skin. Steve leans into your touch, a contented sigh escaping his lips. You're struck by how vulnerable and real he is in this moment - so different from the candidate the public sees.

"Steve," you say finally, causing his eyes to flutter open. "What do you think about having dinner with my mom tonight?”

Steve's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "Dinner with your mom. Tonight."

You nod, your hand still resting on his cheek. “She flies home tomorrow.”

Steve nods, a determined look overtaking the apprehension from a moment before.

Steve nods, a determined look settling on his face. "So, what's the plan? Do we have time between events?"

You pull out your phone, quickly scanning the day's schedule. "We have a gap after the Denver Tech Center tour.”

"If your mother tries to throw me out a window, you have to promise to come to my aid."

You laugh, the tension broken. "Deal. Though I think even my mom would have trouble throwing Captain America out a window."

"You'd be surprised," Steve chuckles.

“Maybe Sam will loan the shield back to you,” you tease.

The shield isn’t borrowed, but you do rope Sam, Sophia, and Bucky into having dinner with you as well as your mother has grown incredibly fond of and friendly all of three of them over the past three days.

After you’ve ouly just ordered drinks, Sophia gets a message that the two of you need to step out of the restaurant to take an urgent call about some last-minute campaign trail changes. You catch Sam and Bucky exchanging a meaningful glance, and you try to give them a smile that conveys your appreciation that they’re serving as a buffer.

The matter - in your opinion - is really a non-issue, but Sophia says she thinks she better go consult with the logistics team, and you don’t argue when she’s that determined.

But it makes perfect sense when you step back inside the restaurant and take in the scene before you.

Sam and Bucky are standing in the waiting area, looking slightly sheepish, no sign of your mother or Steve.

"What's going on?" you ask pointedly.

Sam steps forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Now, don't be mad. We thought Steve could use some alone time with your mom."

You feel your heart rate quicken. "You left Steve alone with my mother?"

Bucky nods, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "He's faced down HYDRA and alien invasions. We figured he could handle one mother-in-law."

Sam adds, "Steve's been practicing what he wanted to say to your mom for days. Figured this was as good a time as any."

You're not sure whether to laugh or panic. "How long have they been alone?"

"About five minutes," Sam replies. "We figured we'd give them a few more. Or you two will - I’m going to join someone else for dinner.”

You smirk at him. “Enjoy your meal with Sophia.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he says, handing you an earpiece before walking away.

You stand there for a moment, torn between curiosity and concern. Part of you wants to rush back to the table and make sure everything is okay. But another part knows that Sam and Bucky are right - Steve and your mother need this time alone.

Bucky gently places a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it'll be alright. Steve's got this."

You take a deep breath, nodding. "I know. I just hope she doesn’t swallow him up."

"If it helps, we can listen in," Bucky says with a mischievous grin, tapping his ear to indicate the communication device.

You roll your eyes but can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. Curiosity getting the better of you, you put the earpiece in, Bucky doing the same with his own.

"Okay, just for a minute," you concede, putting the earpiece in.

Steve's voice comes through, clear and steady. "I know our relationship moved quickly, and I understand your concerns."

Your mother's voice follows, her tone measured. "Do you?”

“I know it looks like I swept your daughter into a whirlwind marriage agreement and a high-pressure political campaign. And that is where it all started, but we’re so far beyond that now. It’s become so much more."

"I do know that. And I believe it it, too. I’ve been watching you, you know. Long before I got here, and then of course this week. And I’m perceptive."

Steve pauses, his voice thoughtful when he speaks again. "But you still have reservations about me, don't you?"

There's a moment of silence, and you can almost picture your mother's expression - that slight furrow in her brow she gets when she's carefully considering her words.

"I do," she admits finally, her voice soft but firm. "And I'm trying not to, Steve. I really am."

You hear the clink of glasses, the soft rustle of fabric as someone - probably your mother - shifts in their seat.

"I see the way you look at my daughter," your mother continues. "The way your eyes light up when she enters a room, how you lean towards her when she speaks. I see the gentle touches, the silent conversations you have with just a glance. It's... it's beautiful, really."

Steve's voice is warm when he responds. "She's incredible. But those reservations… I'd like to understand them, if you're willing to share."

Your mother sighs. "It's not just one thing, Steve. It's... well, it's everything. Your past, your public persona, this campaign. I look at you, and I see a man who's lived multiple lifetimes, who's seen and done things I can't even imagine. You've saved the world, for goodness' sake. And my daughter... she's brilliant and strong, but she's also young."

You hear Steve take a deep breath before responding. "I understand those concerns. They're concerns I've had myself. But your daughter, as it turns out, is one of the strongest people I know. She challenges me, supports me, grounds me in ways I never expected. She makes me want to be a better man, a better leader."

There's a pause, and you can almost picture Steve leaning forward, his eyes earnest as he continues. "I know I have a complicated past, and yes, a lot of responsibility. But your daughter isn't overshadowed by that - she shines even brighter alongside it. She's not just along for the ride in this campaign or in our life together. She's my partner in every sense of the word.”

Your mother's voice softens slightly as she responds. "I can see that. I've watched her these past few days, how she's grown into this role. She's always been capable, but now... now she's truly flourishing."

"She is," Steve agrees, warmth evident in his voice. "And I want you to know that I will always support her in that growth. Her dreams, her ambitions - they're just as important as mine."

There's another pause, and you can almost picture your mother nodding slowly, processing Steve's words.

"I appreciate everything you’v said, Steve," she says finally. "And I can see how much you care for my daughter. But I need you to understand something. My daughter - she's always been special. Always been driven to help others, to make a difference. But she's also had her heart broken before. She's been let down by life, everything turned upside down by The Blip."

You feel a pang in your chest at your mother's words, memories of past hurts flashing through your mind.

Your mother's voice becomes softer, more vulnerable. "And I couldn't fix any of that. As her mother, that cut like a knife, and I think... I think I never really took that knife out. I've been carrying it with me, this fear of seeing her hurt again."

You hear her take a shaky breath before continuing. "When she told me about your arrangement, about this whirlwind marriage and campaign, all I could think was, 'Here's another way for her to get hurt.' I was so afraid for her."

There's a pause, and you can almost picture your mother's eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But this week... this week has been eye-opening. I've seen her in her element, passionate and driven. I've watched her tackle complex issues with grace and determination. And I've seen how you two show up for each other. I worried it was all for the public, but I know now it’s not.”

"It’s not," Steve says, his response immediate and resolute. "And I want you to know that I take my commitment to your daughter very seriously. I know I can't promise that she'll never be hurt - life doesn't work that way. But I can promise that I will always be there for her, to support her, to lift her up when she needs it, and to celebrate her successes."

You hear your mother take a deep breath. "I can see that, Steve. I really can. And I... I'm sorry if I've been hard on you. I just want to protect her."

“Then we have that in common.”

“We do,” she agrees. “Just give me time. I always loved Jeff, her first husband, but I can see that we could get there, too, Steve.”

Bucky hands you a handkerchief, his metal arm glinting softly in the warm light of the restaurant's entryway. You hadn't even realized you were crying until you feel the soft cotton against your fingertips. You take it gratefully, dabbing at your eyes as you try to compose yourself.

Bucky's metal arm comes to rest around your shoulders, the weight of it comforting and grounding. You lean into him slightly, grateful for the support as you process the emotional exchange you've just witnessed.

[OCTOBER 16 - DENVER AIRPORT]

The Denver International Airport bustles with activity around you, a cacophony of rolling suitcases, muffled announcements, and hurried conversations. Yet in this moment, your focus narrows to your mother standing before you, her carry-on bag at her feet and a bittersweet smile on her face.

"I'm so glad you came, Mom," you say, your voice thick with emotion. The past few days have been another slew of organized campaign chaos, but having your mother here had been a development you didn’t realize you needed.

She reaches out, cupping your face in her hands, her eyes shining with emotion. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm glad I came too. More than you know."

It was good for you, for her, for repairing pieces of your relationship you knew were strained and things you didn’t.

You lean into her touch, feeling for a moment like a little girl again, safe in your mother's embrace, and her strength as your mother had been the thing you needed most from her.

"I'm so proud of you," your mother says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "The work you're doing, the person you've become... it's more than I knew to hope for - a true new chapter for you."

You feel a lump forming in your throat, overwhelmed by her words. "Thank you, Mom. That means so much to me."

She pulls you into a tight hug, and you breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume, a comforting mix of jasmine and vanilla that instantly transports you back to your childhood home.

As you pull apart, your mother's eyes drift over your shoulder, and her expression softens further. You turn to see Steve approaching, a gentle smile on his face.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, coming to stand beside you.

Your mother shakes her head. "Not at all, Steve. I'm glad you're here."

Steve's smile widens as he reaches out to shake your mother's hand. To your surprise, she pulls him into a warm hug instead.

"Take care of my daughter," she says softly, but loud enough for you to hear.

You smile and shake your head.

"Always," Steve replies, his voice filled with sincerity.

As they part, your mother looks between the two of you. "And you two take care of each other. What you're doing is important. Don't lose sight of that, but don't lose sight of each other either."

You nod, feeling Steve's hand come to rest on the small of your back as you reply, "We won't, Mom. I promise."

An announcement over the airport speakers breaks the moment, reminding passengers of the TSA safety checkpoint instructions.

"I better go," she says with a sigh. She picks up her carry-on bag. “Tell Pepper - I assume - thanks for the first-class flight. Of course, I’m ruined now, but it’s worth it.”

The two of you wave and watch her for a moment. It’s early enough there aren’t many people around to take notice of you and Steve.

“Thanks for asking her to come, Steve,” you say.

“I’m glad I did, too.”

“Even with as scary as it was for Captain America to meet his wife’s mom?” you giggle.

He quiets you with a resolute kiss on the mouth that melts away your early morning sass.

But it’s too brief for your liking.

He reaches for your hand as he pulls away. “We better go before we miss our flight,” he says, tugging you along.

You scoff, falling into step beside him. “Because the campaign plane would definitely lift off without its presidential candidate on board.”

He laughs, “Don’t put it past Bucky or Sam to convince them I am there and try to get them to leave without me.”

next part: coming 2/14

Y'all have been waiting a long time on this chapter, and I apologize for that break, but now it's here - and I'm ultimately happy with where it landed. And we're getting close to the end!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[swamp-chicken]

AND CHAPTER 14 IF IT IS WHAT I THINK IT IS O-O STARES AT YOU WITH MY BIG BEUATIFUL NOT UNSETTLING AT ALL EYES PLEASWZ

yeah ok here you go

A chill breeze blew through the courtyard, making Etho shiver. It was only the beginning of autumn, but the mountain wind already smelled of winter. Etho prayed that they wouldn’t see snow on their journey. 

He pulled his cloak tighter around his body and went back to tacking his horse, a shaggy chestnut mare lent by a horse tribesperson. She was no Lulu, but she shared the same intelligent spark in her eyes. 

Bdubs was on the other side of the courtyard, stroking Lulu’s muzzle and speaking to her softly. The wind tossed his hair back and forth.

Cleo drew up beside him. “All ready to go?” she asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be for this fool’s errand,” Etho grumbled.

Cleo followed Etho’s gaze to where Bdubs stood with Lulu.

“And yet you’ve still agreed to come,” she said archly. “I wonder why?”

Etho gave a particularly vicious tug on the saddle strap and his mare sidestepped unhappily. 

Cleo sighed and patted Etho on the shoulder. “I’m happy you’re coming regardless— beyond happy. If you saw me fighting the dragon in one of your visions, I’m even more sure we should be there together.”

“Like I said, I was dying from a stomach wound when I imagined that. I don’t think you should be taking any stock in fever dreams.”

“Oh, Etho,” Cleo sighed, her voice pitying.

Etho drew his shoulders up, but his retort was interrupted by a flurried approach.

“Etho!” it was Basil, breathless, clutching several rucksacks. Rita was following him at a more sedate pace. Basil skidded to a stop before Etho and Cleo. “I have your, um, travel rations.” He handed one rucksack to Cleo and bowed his head awkwardly. “Priestess.”

He handed Etho the other. “I put crispy chickpeas in yours, I know how much you like them.” 

Etho ruffled his hair. “Thanks, Basil. I hope the kitchen survives without me.”

“It may run a bit better, actually,” Basil said and danced, laughingly, out of Etho’s reach. 

Rita placed a steadying hand on Basil’s back. She nodded to Cleo with a cool, “Priestess.” Her tone was warmer when she turned to Etho. “I have something for you as well.” She handed him a small vial. He held it up to the light and she explained. “The guild apprentices have been working nonstop brewing redstone health potions. I managed to get my hands on this small amount for you. It should help if… well, whatever happens.” 

Etho, touched, pulled Rita into a hug. She stood stiffly in his arms a moment before retreating. Etho was shocked to notice tears in the usually steely woman’s eyes. “It’s all I can do,” she explained, voice unexpectedly fierce. “When your council keeps making decisions without consulting the people who have to pick up the pieces—“ She broke off, glancing at Cleo. Her voice returned to its usual brusqueness. “Just stay safe.”

She turned and left, shepherding Basil with her.

Etho examined the vial in his hands. “Will the journey be that dangerous?” he asked.

Cleo was watching Rita’s retreat with a troubled expression, gathering her himation around her as the chill wind blew. “The Vedra will be looking for us.” 

The wind was still blowing when they were sent off by a solemn group of hill tribe members, as well as Tango and Doc. The small number of people sending them off, their quietness, made Etho all the more certain that this was a fools errand. 

Etho had been assured that their traveling group was kept deliberately small so as to more easily avoid detection, but Etho still felt uneasy.

Bdubs led them, relaxed on Lulu’s back. Etho followed, his form much improved after his summer riding Lulu. Cleo, however, sat stiffly, clutching the reigns so tightly that her knuckles were white. Bdubs pulled up beside her and guided her through some riding basics. “Vibka’s a good girl, she already knows what to do. Just keep your head up and use the reigns to guide, not direct her.“

“I know,” Cleo said through gritted teeth.

Bdubs laughed, easy and free. Etho almost flinched at the sound. “Then just relax!”

“How am I supposed to relax?!”

Cleo’s horse, sensing her rider’s distress, trotted a few mincing steps forward. 

Cleo howled. 

Bdubs darted forward on Lulu and snatched Vibka’s reigns. “Cleo!” he squawked. “What are you doing?!”

Cleo blinked at Bdubs, expression mollified, and they both burst out laughing. 

Etho, following behind them, couldn’t help the ember of envy burning through his heart. 

The rolling plains surrounding the keep gave way to rocky, uneven terrain. All the while, they climbed, the mountains to the east growing ever closer. Their goal was to reach the first mountain pass before nightfall. 

Cleo and Bdubs stuck close, Cleo’s riding skills improving to the point where she at least didn’t seem to be in danger of falling off the horse. Occasionally, Cleo would fall back to check in on Etho, but he wasn’t very good company, answering her queries monosyllabically. 

Bdubs didn’t speak to him at all. 

Gradually, dusk fell, their shadows lengthening below them. 

“We’ll stop here,” Bdubs said, reigning to a stop. They had reached a shallow rocky gully, a small stream passing through it, water fast-moving and clear. “The pass is up ahead, we’ll tackle it tomorrow morning.” 

Etho dismounted and grimaced at the soreness in his legs. His short excursions on Lulu has not prepared him for what a full day of riding felt like.

Cleo was even worse off. “Here, I’ll catch you,” Bdubs offered, standing beside Cleo’s horse. Etho pointedly looked away, swallowing down the memory of when Bdubs had done the same for him, how warm his hands had been on Etho’s waist. 

They tied the horses up to graze and split up to look for firewood, Cleo limping but uncomplaining. There were only a few twisted trees growing here, dwarfed by the cold wind that now was making Etho shiver. Etho gathered some dry brush and watched Bdubs build the fire. It was hypnotizing, the way he gently blew sparks into flame. 

Cleo was sitting on a rock nearby, exhausted and unspeaking. “I’ll get us some water,” Etho offered, breaking the silence. Bdubs handed over his waterskin without a word. 

As the sky darkened, they ate the rations from their pack. The wind calmed with the setting sun, and in the stillness of night Etho could hear the croak of katydids, the burbling of the stream. Bdubs gazed into the fire dreamily, his eyes half-shut.

Cleo was slowly chewing on some dried venison, her himation wrapped tightly around her. Etho held out his bag of crunchy chickpeas. “Want some?”

Cleo took a few chickpeas. “Now why did you get special treatment?” she complained, without any heat. The day’s travel had bedraggled her, the wind tearing her hair out of its braid and reddening her face. Bdubs had made fun of Etho for being a city boy, but he had at least left Timre on research missions. Etho wasn’t sure whether Cleo had ever been out of Timre before the war. She certainly had never slept outside before.

“Well, Cleo, it’s because I’m so special,” he teased, trying to wring a smile out of her.

Bdubs scoffed quietly. The grin fell from Etho’s face. 

Cleo didn’t seem to notice, her eyes distant with thought. “You’ve been working a lot with Healer Rita, I noticed.”

Etho shrugged. “I guess.”

“Has she ever… said anything?”

“What, about you?”

“No!” Cleo said, coloring slightly. “No, I mean, like what she said today. About the council.”

Etho glanced at her sidelong. “She hasn’t. But what she said today made me curious. Why <i>don’t</i> we have any other guilds on the council?”

“Why indeed?” Cleo mused. “Some things have been done a certain way for so long that I think we’ve forgotten they can be changed.”

Bdubs stood abruptly, surprising Etho. “We should get to sleep, it’s another long day tomorrow.”

Etho scraped together a sleeping place for Cleo, layering her bedroll over grasses and brush. Cleo volunteered to take first watch. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to fall asleep anyway,” she said, grimacing at the bed Etho had made for her. 

Bdubs volunteered to take second watch, and that left Etho with the third. 

The fire burned low as Etho and Bdubs settled down to sleep, Cleo sitting at the edge of their campsite, eyes on the horizon. Etho tried not to look over at Bdubs, wrapped tight in his sleeping roll, tried not to remember their journey to Westervale Keep all those months ago, how they had curled together for warmth every night…

“Etho,” Bdubs had whined. He was wrapped up to his chin in bedding, his breath showing in puffs. “‘M cold.”

“I’m coming,” Etho said, swallowing down his laugh. He nudged at the fire’s embers, trying to bank them for tomorrow. Bdubs was more needy since leaving the cottage, though he vociferously denied any and all of Etho’s assistance. He caught their food and built their fire, but at night he crawled into Etho’s arms, exhausted and fragile. 

Etho gave the coals a final stir and turned to Bdubs. “Lemme in!” he said, dancing in the cold.

Bdubs laughed and flipped up a corner of the blanket. “Quick!”

Etho dived into the blankets, and they laughed breathlessly as they knocked against each other, trying to get comfortable. “There,” Etho said, once he had Bdubs in his arms, Bdubs’ face tucked up against his neck. 

“Cosy,” Bdubs murmured, and Etho shivered at the cold press of his nose. 

Bdubs yawned and burrowed closer. “Etho,” he murmured. “Etho, get up.”

A hand on his shoulder woke him. 

[sturniololuvz]

can you do a highschool sturniolo sister where she has a friend group but realized they were using her for her brothers, then ends up getting mad at the triplets as well as them? xx

yessss!!!!

“More Than A Last Name”

Sturniolos x sister

warnings : crying , fake friends

Y/N had never been the type to be surrounded by a huge friend group. She had always preferred keeping a small circle, but recently, everything had changed. Out of nowhere, people at school who had never even looked her way started inviting her to sit with them, asking for her number, and suddenly wanting to “hang out.”

At first, it felt… nice. Like maybe, just maybe, she was finally being noticed for herself. But today, everything came crashing down.

Y/N overheard two girls whispering in the hallway, their voices dripping with excitement.

“I mean, we HAVE to stay close with her. Imagine the chance to meet the triplets?!”

“Right?! If we’re besties with Y/N, maybe we can be in one of their vlogs.”

Her stomach dropped. The truth hit her like a truck—none of it was real. They didn’t care about her. They cared about her brothers.

By the time she got home, tears were streaming down her face. She slammed the front door shut, causing Matt, Nick, and Chris to look up from the couch.

“Woah—Y/N?” Nick’s brows furrowed as he stood up. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re what’s wrong!” she snapped, voice shaking. “I can’t have a normal life because of you guys!”

Chris frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Nobody actually wants to be my friend!” Y/N shouted, chest heaving. “They just want to get close to me because of YOU! Because you’re all famous, and everyone loves you! But me? I don’t matter!”

Matt, always the calm one, stood up slowly. “Y/N… of course you matter.”

“No, I don’t!” she wiped her tears away angrily. “You don’t get it! I thought I finally had real friends, people who liked ME for ME! But the second I wasn’t useful to them, the second they realized I wasn’t some gateway to hanging out with you guys, they didn’t care anymore! I was just a way to get closer to you.”

The triplets exchanged glances, their hearts sinking.

“I’m done,” Y/N muttered. “I told them I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

Nick stepped forward. “Y/N, I—”

“Just leave me alone!” she shouted, running up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door shut.

For hours, she stayed locked inside, curled up in bed, feeling humiliated and hurt. She ignored the soft knocks at her door at first. But then, her brothers’ voices broke through the silence.

“Y/N, please open up,” Chris pleaded.

“We’re not leaving until you talk to us,” Matt added.

There was a long pause before she finally sighed and unlocked the door. The triplets stepped inside, looking at her with worry.

Nick was the first to speak. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I hate that people used you like that. That’s not fair.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, that’s messed up. And I get why you’re mad. I would be too.”

Y/N sniffled, wiping her face. “I just—I just wanted real friends. I don’t want people to see me as just ‘the Sturniolo triplets’ little sister.’ I wanna be me. And I don’t think I can do that when everyone only cares about who I’m related to.”

Matt sighed, sitting beside her. “We can’t control how other people act, but we do know one thing: you’re way more than just our little sister, Y/N. You’re funny, and smart, and actually way cooler than us.”

Chris smirked. “Yeah, no offense, but half the time, you roast us better than our own fans do.”

That earned a small laugh from Y/N, which made them all relax a little.

Nick nudged her shoulder. “You don’t need those fake friends. Real ones will come. People who care about you for YOU, not us.”

Y/N sighed. “I hope so.”

“They will,” Matt assured her. “And until then, you’ve got us.”

Chris threw an arm around her. “And we’re kinda awesome, so…”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “You guys are annoying, but thanks.”

The triplets grinned.

“Anytime, Y/N.”

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks, this is "what if the queen didn't interrupt their wedding dance?"Part 3.

Tomorrow, probably, I'm not going to post since I'm out - but if it is really boring I still might. See you on Sunday with a meme and then on Monday a new "what if".

Enjoy this one and have a nice weekend!

--

Cuddling was quickly becoming Colin's favorite past time. Second maybe to eat Pen out. He couldn't help but marvel at how soft her skin was and how she reacted to his touch.

"I think I might be addicted to you," he said, earning a smile from her.

"Now you know how it feels to be me since I was sixteen," she said but with no animosity.

He kisses her. "I'll have to make up for all the time lost," he said, his arousal now poking her thighs.

"What if I told you I just want you inside of me again?" She said, opening her legs and bringing him on top of her.

"Well, people tell me I can follow direction very well, Mrs. Bridgerton".

He touched her, finding her ready again.

Another time he would drag this forever, just to tease her, but it was their wedding night (even if it wasn't night still) and he just wanted too to be back inside her.

He lift her bottom with a cushion under her hips and then he got inside her.

Like their first time, he went in a two stop motion, stopping halfway to check on her.

Pen smiled, kissing him as he was getting inside her. Her body seemed to expect the intrusion and it was less uncomfortable than the first time. Now it was only pleasure and love, pouring out of them both in a self feeding circle that left them gasping for air as their body reconnected - matching their souls.

Colin set up a powerful and deep rhythym, going almost all the way out before coming back again. She felt everything at every thrust and somehow it felt like their hearts we're opening to each other.

Looking into each other eyes, they felt connected and committed - married in the original sense of the word. A partnership of souls.

Pen was reaching for his shoulder, she discovered she loved feeling the muscle there moving as Colin was pushing inside her.

Colin moved to touch her pearl, making her contract on him. "Yes, love. Just like that. Give me your pleasure" he rasped in her ear as she experienced her release.

How can she resist when Colin used that voice with her?

Colin followed her after a couple of second, his release deep inside her. She wondered if they were already making a baby... Or if it would arrive later. Either way, she know they would welcome it.

Colin was crushing her a bit, but she welcomes his weight. She was playing with his hair - her favorite past time.

Colin kissed her neck.

She felt he was going to start talking, so she spoke first. "Colin, I know I hurt you with Whistledown. I'm sorry for that. I do not want to give it up, but I also want to be accountable for my mistakes."

Colin nodded, listening to her.

"Why don't we think about it tomorrow and come up with a plan so that we can achieve that, together?"

Colin kisses her. "Together sounds good. And I have to apologize too. I reacted... Badly. But I want to make you for it as well."

She smiled. Now, that she was married and sure that Colin and her would survive this, she could conquer the world... Or Mayfair, depending on what she wanted.

For now, she just wanted to relax in her husband arms. So, she did just that.

The end.

[souljahwwitch]

PINK HAIRED SWEETHEART!

;hc’s for thanos and reader with pink hair who hate eachother

“i fucking hate that pink haired sweetheart”

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who immediately noticed you, pink hair and doe eyes—everyone noticed you two, the unusal hair color making you two stand out in amidst of 456 players

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who, of course, first flirted with you and, of course, got his ego hurt because you just ignored him—you were here to win, not get distracted by stupid rappers.

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who actually saved your life in the very first game, unusally so—he pulled you behind him as people in the row started to slip before the doll turned around

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost, sweetheart—need me to make it all better hm?”

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who-when the game was over, approached you with confidence, saying “i saved your life, i think i deserve a little kiss—don’t i?” with that cocky voice of his

“oh fuck off—i just got caught off guard and you were there.” you said—and that’s when the hatred started.

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who got offended after you said that-because how could him pulling you behind him be ‘no biggie’ he totally didn’t do that to get in your pants!!!

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who would start mocking you, pulling you by your hair everytime you pass by him, throwing your lunch on the ground—everything, and him being actually struck by your pretty eyes, even though you annoyed him so fucking much, he didn’t mind one bit when you yelled at him—in fact, he found it cute.

“stop fucking pulling my hair!” you’d yell—but he’d just smirk

“relax, angel—would be a shame if i actually ruined your pretty pink hair, wouldn’t it?” he’d coo in that annoying tone of his, and you’d just hiss at him, walking away as he watched you with annoyance in his eyes—nam-gyu just watching you two in disbelief

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who’d watch you actually being sweet to others, trying to help everyone around you—except him, and that annoyed him to no end, why would you be sweet to those losers when he was right there!!

“man you need to stop looking at her like that.” nam-gyu said as they both watched you sparing your lunch and giving it to some scared boy

“i fucking hate that pink haired sweetheart.”

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who, once in this whole time, took a pity on you when he saw you on your bed—hugging your knees and hiding your face in them as you sniffled, too scared of watching people die around you—and him being him, he approached you—his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“y’know it’s not your fault, right? i know you wanna help everyone but you’re not some kind of savior.” he says to you, but he sees that it doesn’t make it any better

“you know—i fucking hate you, but when we get out of here with shit ton of money, we’re gonna go to some pretty little cafe, and the soda’s on me, deal?” he says, and that actually makes you smile—so you nod in acceptance, and it makes his heart skip a beat

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who, in the game mingle, as soon as the number that was shouted was two, he pulled you by your wrist and ran with you to a room, he didn’t know why he did it, he hates you—you hate him. but it’s something you two are gonna talk about when you get out of here.

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[gloomwitchwrites]

You get drunk and don't remember giving them a hickey. So you get mad at them.

Oh, anon! I love love love this prompt. Even though the prompt itself is fairly straightforward, there is some wiggle room about how this could play out. I stuck to the prompt but did my best to keep them on the shorter side.

Some of these get spicy but don't fall into graphic detail.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, arguing, sexual tension, kissing, alcohol

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“These reports are shit, Price. What am I supposed to do with them?”

You’re trying your best not to sound irritated, but your head is pounding. You agreed to go out for drinks but told yourself you wouldn’t have more than one or two. That went completely out the door when multiple people began paying for rounds. After the fourth, the night started to come blurry. Not all the pieces are there.

Of what you can recall from last night, you remember that you sat in a man’s lap. Well—sat isn’t the correct word. More like straddled. You remember strong arms, an accent, and an excitement in what you were doing. But the face is still foggy.

“What you always do,” replies Price. There’s a tease in his tone you don’t particularly like. It’s too friendly, and it stirs something fierce inside your belly.

Price shifts in his chair behind his desk, the collar of his jacket flops open slightly. You catch a hint of something dark on the side of Price’s neck. You frown, your rebuttal gone.

“What is that?” You nod toward his throat.

Price leans back. “What?” he asks. “This?” He reaches up, pulling back on the collar.

It’s a…oh fuck.

“You were happy to give it to me.” Price shrugs.

Fuck.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, tossing the manila file folder on Price’s desk.

The man you straddled last night was Price? The man who is always fucking up reports and ignoring all your suggestions for corrections? That one?

“You looked good doing it, too,” he continues, that teasing smile falling into a comfortability of a lover.

No. No no no.

You place your hands on your hips. “And you let me do that?”

Price shrugs. “We’re consenting adults.”

“I was drunk.”

Price crosses his arms over his chest. “We were both drunk. And you’re the one who pounced on me.”

Embarrassment rises hot and wild in your cheeks. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You did,” he confirms, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he smirks. “Ambushed me actually.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” Your voice cracks, going a bit high.

“I tried.”

That’s almost worse. You jumped him and then sucked on his neck until it left a mark. What an absolute fucking mess.

You roll your eyes. “You tried? A big strong man like you couldn’t stop me?”

This time Price is the one rolling his eyes. He makes an irritated groan. Price pushes up from his chair, one hand waving out in front of him as he speaks. “You said you’d been thinking about me.”

It’s not entirely untrue. While you attend the clerical side of things, you do make excuses to come see Price. He’s older. Handsome. Assertive. His reports aren’t always shit but it’s the only reason you have to bother him.

“I didn’t mean it,” you reply but even you don’t believe it.

Price comes around the desk and steps into your space. “Really?”

You square your shoulders, staring into Price’s face. “Really.”

He shakes his head, clearly not believing you at all. “As I recall, you were in my lap. Practically begging.”

“And you allowed that? In front of everyone?” Even Price couldn’t be that careless.

This time, Price smiles like he knows something you don’t. “You don’t remember.”

“What?” you ask, flustered.

Price starts laughing, but it’s not mocking, more like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“John,” you snap.

Price sinks down into his chair, legs spread wide. “I think I liked it better when you said my name while seated in my lap.”

Your fingers dig into the top of Price’s desk. Pieces begin to return. Fragments of you squirming in his lap. Lips pressed against his.

“How did you say it?” he ponders, almost aloud rather than to you. Then, he smiles, not even answering his own question.

Price rests his palm on his thigh and your gaze drops to its subtle movement before returning to his face.

“Think I’d like a matching one,” he says. He runs his hand down his thigh and then back up. “Or I could give you one just like it.”

“John,” you murmur, not knowing what it is you want to say.

“Doesn’t have to be on your neck,” and his voice is nearly a growl. Price lightly squeezes his thigh and you know exactly where he’s referring to. “Be easier if you sit on the desk.”

You snatch up the folder on Price’s desk, clutching it like a shield against your chest. Price doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t appear fazed at all. Stomping over you shove it against his chest, intending to walk right out the door.

But Price is quick.

With one hand he’s clutching the file and with the other he grabs your wrist before you manage to move away.

“Remove your hand,” you say but there is no venom in it.

Price’s gaze lingers on your lips before shifting up to meet your eyes. “Come back when you know what you want.”

Price releases you, and you nearly stumble forward into his lap. Catching yourself on the edge of his desk, you spin on your heel, exiting Price’s office as the final fragments of memory fall into place.

You don’t want to admit it.

Not out loud. Not yet.

But you will be back.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s unbelievable. Unfathomable.

You’re not angry with Kyle. You’re upset with yourself. You’re upset that you were so careless about how many drinks you had, and how you couldn’t control yourself in the moment. Kyle is not a liar, and he doesn’t take advantage, so whatever you did, is on you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, swallowing down some of the rising irritation. “It’s my fault.”

Kyle shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “Not like I pushed you away.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you insist, flinging your arms out in exasperation, nearly knocking over bottles of cleaner.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, catching one of them before it hits the floor.

This little storage room isn’t big enough for this. You need space. You need to run far away from here and pretend like last night didn’t happen. Not that you can remember all of it. You don’t recall giving Kyle that mark on his neck.

“It does matter. We both had too much but I still had more of my head than you did.” Kyle places the bottle of cleaner back on the shelf. “I should’ve done better.”

“We’re coworkers, Kyle. And I had no right. We aren’t together.”

Kyle smirks and you want to smack it right off his face. “We could be,” he murmurs, taking a step forward.

“Absolutely not,” you retort but you don’t retreat.

Kyle’s smirk faulters a bit but he doesn’t shrink away. If anything, he looks more determined, like the rejection is a farce.

“You remember anything you said to me last night?”

You lick your lips and cross your arms defensively over your chest. “Even if I did, does it change anything?”

Kyle sighs and runs his hand over the top of his head. “It does for me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you consider your options. Kyle is a sweet man, at least to you. Everyone always comments on it to you when he isn’t around, and you’ve always dismissed their observations.

Maybe he does care, and you doing this tipped him over the edge into a place neither of you might be able to come back from.

“I need some fucking air,” you mutter, wanting to escape this situation, even for a bit.

Kyle shoves forward, blocking the door. Your lips move, forming the shapes of words, but Kyle shakes his head, all seriousness.

“We need to talk about this.”

“We don’t need to talk about anything,” you snap.

Kyle’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline and his head tips slightly to the side, revealing more of the mark. “Everyone knows what happened.”

“What?” you breathe.

“We weren’t alone when you straddled me.” You’re too stunned to speak. All the words you want to say are gone. Lost to the void that is your mind.

Kyle sighs and leans against the door. “Soap got a great view.”

“Stop talking. Just—stop.” Your throw up your hands and Kyle does as you ask. “You are going to move out of my way. I am going to leave. And we won’t talk about this again.”

Kyle only stares, the silence stretching.

When you think he won’t give in, Kyle shifts to his left, leaving the door completely clear. Without taking a second to reconsider, you push open the the door, nearly running over Soap in the process.

He stumbles backward, cheeks bright red. Ghost is next to him, arms crossed, staring at the wall like he isn’t there at all.

Soap’s brief fluster turns into a wide, knowing grin. “Gaz give you a matching one?” he teases.

Ghost makes a noise that sounds like a snort.

“Both of you can fuck off.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Ghost.”

“What?” he grunts, side-eyeing you before returning his attention back to the tablet in his hand. He absently rubs at his neck for the third time in the last few minutes.

You frown. “Are you injured?”

“Why would you think that?” he asks, tapping at something on the screen.

“You keep rubbing your neck.”

Ghost pauses, his finger hovering just above the screen as he turns slightly in your direction.

You’re not trying to be pushy or nosy. Ghosts hates that. But there’s something wrong, and you care enough to ask him about it.

“You know what’s on my neck,” he replies cooly.

“No. I don’t.” A swirling fracture of unease blooms in your belly. It curls outward to claw up your throat. “What are you talking about?”

Ghost’s hand holding the tablet drops to his side. With one gloved hand, he reaches up, tugging the neckline of his jacket down enough to reveal a portion of his throat. The mask he always wears is in the way, but you reach out with a tentative hand, brushing the fabric upward to reveal a mouth-shaped bruise.

You drop your hand and take a step back. “Why would I know anything about that?”

“You gave it to me,” he says, matter of fact.

Sure, you had a few drinks last night, but did you really have that many? Enough that you can’t recall giving Ghost a goddamn hickey.

“You’re mistaken.”

“Never wrong, love.” Ghost locks the tablet and places it on the table next to him. “Especially about a woman sitting in my lap.”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, hips adjusting slightly as he pivots to glare down at you. “Try again.”

A deep rush of embarrassment floods your system, curling up your neck to heat your cheeks. “I wouldn’t.”

“You did,” insists Ghost. You glance down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. Perhaps you had one too many. Sometimes you can hold your alcohol but clearly not. At least not last night.

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.” An apology is best. You have no idea how Ghost feels about you, but you are irritated that he didn’t try to stop the whole thing in the first place.

Ghost is silent a long moment. “I’m not.” Your head snaps up, but Ghost isn’t done. “I liked it. And you enjoyed giving it to me.”

You need the pieces to fall back into place. You need to remember. Because right now, you’re just confused, and Ghost’s behavior is entirely different from his usual demeanor.

“You don’t know that.”

Ghost shrugs. “I do.”

His certainty is confusing. Ghost is not a liar. He is always truthful, always to the point, even if his bluntness comes across as rude. And that’s what so frustrating about it all because you know that Ghost is right. You probably did like it, probably begged and writhed in his lap. Ghost wouldn’t lie about something like that, but he would tease you. Might even hold it over your head.

“This conversation is over.” You step around him to grab the tablet, but Ghost is quick like a viper, his large hand encasing your wrist.

“Do you remember?”

No. I don’t.

“It doesn’t matter.” You try to tug your wrist out of his grasp, but Ghost holds firm.

“When you’re ready. Find me.” He leans forward, masked face nearly touching the side of your cheek. “We’ll recreate it.”

Then his hand is gone, and Ghost is pulling away, presenting the tablet to you like he didn’t say anything at all.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“What the fuck is that?”

Soap’s brilliant smile turns in your direction. He sits on the seat of a bench press, elbows resting on knees, sweat dripping from his brow. Soap is shirtless and a white towel is draped over the back of his neck.

Reaching up with the edge of the towel, Soap wipes away some of the sweat on his face. “What are you on about?” He adjusts his stance, his large palm pressing into his knee as he leans on an elbow.

The small gym isn’t crowded but there are people here. Some of them turn and glance in your direction but otherwise keep to their business. Ghost and Gaz are over by the boxing ring observing a few new recruits who slug it out for bragging rights.

Is Soap so aloof? Does he not see the massive mark on the side of his neck? And who gave it to him? A group of you went out for drinks but you don’t recall who might have given it to him or when.

You step closer, lowering your voice. “Your neck, Johnny.”

That gorgeous smile of his widens and he chuckles. “Did you forget?”

Did you forget? Forget what? Are you part of this?

You swallow, the salvia nearly sticking in your throat as you try to calm your thudding heart. “What do you mean?”

Soap leans back a bit, observing you. “You gave this to me.” His voice is too loud, and you glance over your shoulder to make sure no one’s heard. Everyone appears to be preoccupied with the recruits in the ring.

“I didn’t,” you insist, turning back to him. “I’d remember.”

Soap guffaws and removes the towel from around his neck. “Took a seat right here.” He indicates the spot by tapping his left thigh.

“Did we…” you begin, and then trail off.

“Did we what?” he prompts, clearly enjoying this.

You bend forward, lowering your voice until it’s a hiss. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Soap smirks, and then rises to his full height. “Promise I was a perfect gentleman.” He matches your movement, leaning in so that your faces are close. “But you? You were no lady.”

You inhale sharply, and Soap pushes right past you, heading for the showers.

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[totalswag]

I have a request... maybe reader is popular on tiktok and she does that thing on tiktok "raw next question" jokingly but he sees the video and responds

raw next question? ⎯ RAFE CAMERON

authors note can i just say thank you for sending in this request??

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary you jokingly leave a comment underneath rafe cameron's tiktok thinking nothing of it because of the trend going around. the following day he responds back with interest.

warning(s) little bit of cursing, mentions of drinking.

Several people have used the term "raw next question" on tiktok to describe their celebrity crushes, influencers, or people they find attractive in general. You even got them.

On an ordinary Friday, you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your for you page while the television played. You just came across Rafe Cameron's tiktok video where he posted slides of himself. 

Rafe Cameron is a popular guy on the app who every girl fantasizes about. He became popular after posting a tiktok of himself. A few months ago, he followed you on tiktok and instagram⎯you followed back on both.

You won't lie, he's an attractive guy⎯he knows he is. Neither of you have commented under each other's post before⎯you thought why not comment and see what happens.

"Should I do it?" You casually ask yourself as if you were in deep thought, "fuck it."

yourusername: raw next question?

⇾ fan2: umm ariana what are you doing here???

⇾ fan5: this is so unexpected but HELL YEAH

⇾ fan3: not her being BOLD 😭

After leaving your comment on Rafe's tiktok, you placed your phone down and resumed watching your movie. You felt your phone vibrate as supporters responded and making edits of Rafe and you. 

You honestly hoped on the trend but knew what would come from it after submitting the comment. Supporters know you will shoot your shot without thinking⎯you only live once.

The next day, you had two best friends over, Evelyn and Zoie. Three of you are having a girls' night that includes making dinner, drinking, playing games, baking, and watching movies. 

Evelny and you were gathering the ingredients for the cookies when Zoie let out a loud gasp while holding her phone, causing you two to look up, anxious. 

"What happened?" Evelyn and you speak in unison, setting everything down and walking over⎯looking over on both Zoie's shoulders.

"Rafe Cameron responded to your comment, Y/N," and all mouths dropped to the floor.

You freeze, your stomach doing a little somersault. “What?!”

You sigh and take Zoie's phone, saying, "Let me see."

There he is, sitting casually in a chair, the lighting soft and golden, his blonde hair slightly tousled. He’s rocking back and forth, staring off into the distance like he’s deep in thought. Then, slowly, he glances down at his phone.

The frown on his face shifts—subtly at first, then into a sly smirk. He leans forward, looking directly at the camera. “Uh-huh,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

"Y/N, you better say something because he's definitely interested," she replies. "I gotta agree with Zoie on this one," Evelyn adds, folding her arms and nodding to Zoie in agreement. 

"Let me check my phone first to see if he's messaged me," you say with a hint of eagerness and excitement, "plus I mainly commented to join the trend..." you trail off.

"Yeah sure" Zoie sarcastically remarks, leaning forward, shaking her head side to side.

instagram: rafecameron sent you a message

rafe cameron: hey! bold move, I think we should talk. 

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[cosmicmunsonwrites]

i’ll drive, i’ll drive all night

bf!rafe cameron x fem!reader

cw — alcohol, brief talks abt arguing, this is lowk short

summary — you drunk call rafe for a ride home from your friends house.

a/n — whipped this up in a few minutes so please don’t be too harsh. request!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

you sat outside with the warm breeze as you waited on the steps to your best friends house for your boyfriend to pick you up. you were completely out of it, eyes feeling heavy, body all soft and feeling like jelly from the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through you.

you’d probably had one too many drinks and you were expecting a lecture from rafe when he arrived but you were too far past the point of caring. you just wanted to see him and go home after the terrible day you’d had.

the two of you had argued earlier in the afternoon which eventually led to you both parting ways and not speaking for a few hours. you were both very opinionated and you had attitudes that often didn’t mix well when you were frustrated. one of you usually apologized though and you guys moved past it.

this one was different though. you knew you’d been a little mean in your replies but you also felt like he deserved a little reality check. you currently couldn’t even remember why you were arguing due to your drunken state, but you knew it was something you guys could easily get over. you two would probably forget about it by morning anyway.

when you finally saw the big truck pull into the driveway, you quickly stood and almost immediately regretted the sudden action. your head began to spin and a pain accumulated behind your eyelids as you drunkenly stumbled to his car. he was standing on the passengers side waiting for you.

once you approached after tripping over your own feet, he opened up the door for you without a word and helped you up the big step to get inside. he shut it behind you and made his way into his own seat. he assured you had your seatbelt on and began reversing out of the driveway without a word.

“i’m sorry,” you slurred quietly, noticing the way both his hands held the steering wheel instead of one of them resting on your thigh. “didn’t know who else to call.”

you heard him sigh and begin to drive. “would rather you call me than anyone else,” he admitted honestly and spared a glance in your direction. his heart broke a little at the soft pout on your lips and the sad glint in your eyes. “‘nd i’m not mad at you, baby. ‘s fine.”

your eyes glistened with tears as you looked at him. “you’re not?” you mumbled under your breath, eyes feeling heavier and your head getting all foggy.

he shook his head with a shrug and gently rested his hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, thumb soothing over your skin reassuringly. “could never be mad at you,” he said before the car fell into a comfortable silence. the only sound being the quiet song playing on his radio.

you didn’t know when you fell asleep or how long it’d been since, but you began to wake to the sight of rafe standing in front of you looking extremely focused and a soft towel being dragged carefully over your cheeks. you were sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread slightly and him standing between them with majority of your body weight leaning against his.

he was holding your jaw in one hand while the other hand did what you assumed was taking off your makeup. when you finally fluttered your eyes open for real this time, he scanned your face and placed the towel down on the counter. “you have fun tonight?”

you nodded and smiled softly. “mhm. morgan’s friends are really nice. the bar was so cool,” you replied, awkwardly rubbing your hands along your thighs not knowing whether or not it was appropriate to touch him. “‘m really sorry, rafe.”

he went silent for a moment but his eyes stayed fixed on yours. “its okay, sweetheart. we both said some shit we shouldn’t have. ‘s alright. people make mistakes.”

“i was bein’ a bitch earlier,” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his chest.

he laughed softly and smoothed a hand down the back of your head comfortingly. “i think i can handle your attitude pretty well by now,” he replied just barely above a whisper. “c’mon. time for bed.”

you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you and walking you to your shared bedroom before dropping you down gently on your side. he was quick to pull his shirt over his head and crawl under the covers beside you.

you scooted closer to his side and sighed at the familiar warmth you enjoyed so much. his arm loosely fell to the dip of your waist as he scrolled through netflix to find a movie on, knowing you couldn’t sleep without the tv on. “i love you baby,” you muttered through a sleep-laced voice.

he smiled and pressed a kiss to your hair. “i love you more, angel.”