#you all just have to deal with it or leave

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show.

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[emmyrosee]

Fluffy fluffy prompt to hubby sukuna or whom ever you choose “awnn my poor baby come here” then he slowly walks towards you rubbing his eyes all soft and tired 🥺

There’s a low grumble behind you that snaps you out of your slicing of fruit, but you merely brush it off before moving onto the next strawberry.

Then, the grumble ripples through the air again, and you keep slicing, trying your best to ignore the noise.

It happens a third time. You giggle, “what, baby?” You put the knife down and turn to face Sukuna, arms crossing over your chest as you look him up and down.

He looks childish, with the comforter wrapped around his shoulders and hair ruffled around messily. His eyes are puffy from sleep and his cheeks hold a little flush, but his lips are still pouted in a scowl. “You left me alone in bed,” he grumbles. “I told you not to do that. Bed gets too cold.”

“Is that the only reason you don’t like me leaving the bed?” You ask, knowing the real answer. But you also know he’ll never say it. He’s stubborn like that.

He offers you a roll of his eyes, “yes, and I hate the cold. You’re aware of this.”

“My poor baby,” you tease, opening your arms for him to shamble into. “C’mere. Let me warm you back up from the mean, evil, cold covers.”

“You’d better,” he murmurs, stalking towards you and into your arms. He opens his own to reveal the corners of the blanket balled into his big fists, and when he embraces you, you’re shrouded in darkness but melting into the warmth that his chest brews. Your laugh softly, and burrow into his chest, which rumbles with a hum in confusion. "Somethin' funny under there?"

"Just dark," you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and gently squeezing him out of cute aggression. "I also can't really breathe, so-"

"Good," he says, resting his head on top of yours, tightening his arms to keep you in place. "Won't have to deal with your ass leaving the bed, messing up my sleep." You laugh some more, only to send a few pokes to his waist, making him jerk away from you and loosen his hold.

"Who's gonna cuddle you at night then?"

"I'm a man, I don't need cuddles."

When you do, however, try to get out of his arms, he grumbles and pulls you tighter again, with an annoyed grunt. "No."

"That's what I thought, Sukuna."

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK Men React to Seeing You in Their Clothes

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Yuta x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: fluff over fluff, I'm pretty sure I already wrote something like this but I can't find it anymore lol, all scenarios talk about the clothes of the said jjk men being big on you so please don't read if this isn't what you vibe with (but feel free to let me know if you want a version in which their clothes actually fit reader quite well!)

Gojo Satoru

The apartment is unusually quiet as you move through the living room, your bare feet padding lightly across the cool floor. Gojo had left early this morning to deal with some “business,” leaving you alone with nothing but a mess of his belongings scattered around. You’re not one to complain though - cleaning up after him has become second nature after spending so much time together.

As you tidy up his place, you come across one of his oversized hoodies. It’s sprawled across the back of a chair, still slightly wrinkled from when he wore it the night before. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the fabric, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, you find yourself reaching for it.

It’s soft, much softer than you expected. You hold it for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully before a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. You slip the hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you whole. The sleeves are comically long, almost covering your hands completely, and the hemline reaches down to your thighs. It’s so big that it feels like you’re wearing a blanket, and despite yourself, you giggle at the sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror.

You sit down on the couch, pulling your legs up under the hoodie, and let yourself relax into the comfort of wearing something that smells like him. His signature cologne that follows him around wherever he goes, that makes your heart skip a beat every time you smell it. To be honest, you really miss him. These past weeks were so busy that you didn’t really get the chance to see him more than 2 hours before passing out sleeping. What you’d do for a whole afternoon, just you and him…

Not long after, you hear the oh so accustomed sound of the door unlocking, followed by the familiar voice of Satoru calling out, “I’m home!”

You stiffen for a moment, wondering how he’ll react, but you can’t hide now. Fuck, you never wore his clothes before. After all, they belong to him and you have no right to grab his stuff as you please.

Before you can say anything to defend yourself, Gojo steps into the living room, his bright blue eyes immediately locking onto you.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

His sunglasses are perched on his head, revealing his crystalline eyes that seem to glow with delight.

“Did you raid my closet while I was gone?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the sudden warmth creeping up your neck.

“Your place was cold. Figured I’d borrow something.”

Gojo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he walks over to you, crouching in front of the couch as he eyes you up and down. His grin widens as he takes in the way the hoodie completely engulfs you, making you look even smaller than usual.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, laced with something playful but undeniably affectionate.

He reaches out, tugging on one of the oversized sleeves gently.

“In fact, I think it suits you better than it does me.”

You scoff, though your heart skips a beat at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You think everything looks good on me.”

“That’s because it does.”

His grin is infuriatingly confident, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“But you, wearing my clothes? I think that might be my favorite look.”

He leans closer, his nose brushing against your temple before pressing a soft kiss there.

“You can keep it if you want,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t think I’m getting it back anyway.”

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s early morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft glow over Megumi’s small apartment. He’s still asleep, his dark hair a mess of unruly strands as he breathes softly beside you. You’ve been staying with him for the weekend, a rare break from the chaos of jujutsu sorcery.

As you quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, you feel the cool air hit your skin. Without thinking, you look around the room for something to cover yourself with. Your eyes land on one of Megumi’s plain black shirts, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. It’s oversized, much bigger than anything you’d typically wear, but you shrug and grab it anyway.

Slipping it over your head, the fabric is soft and familiar, carrying the faint scent of him. It hangs loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long and the hem falling halfway down your thighs. You glance at yourself in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. There’s something comforting about wearing his clothes, like having a part of him with you even when he’s asleep.

As you turn back toward the bed, you freeze. Megumi’s awake. His dark eyes are half-lidded, still clouded with sleep as he watches you from the bed. You can’t quite read his expression -it’s a mixture of surprise, confusion, and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up early,” he mutters, his voice still thick with sleep.

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed your shirt.”

Megumi blinks, his gaze drifting over you slowly. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can see the way his eyes linger on the way the shirt swallows you, how it looks like you’re drowning in fabric. After a long moment, he finally speaks, his voice quieter than before.

“It looks good on you,” he finally speaks out, a little awkwardly, as if he’s not quite sure how to compliment you.

“Better than it does on me.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he seems, even though he’s trying to play it cool.

“Really? I think it’s a little big.”

Megumi shakes his head, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his messy hair.

“No. It’s perfect.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, almost shyly,

“You should wear my stuff more often.”

His words catch you off guard, and you raise an eyebrow at him, surprised. Even though you know all too well that Megumi Fushiguro has a soft spot for you, you never really thought about stealing or borrowing his stuff. After all, he is the guy who slaps the back of Yuji’s head each and every day over stealing his sandwich or equipment. And now…he’s telling you straightforward that he wants you to wear his shirts?

“You want me to?”

He looks away, his usual stoic mask slipping just a bit as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

“I mean... yeah. It suits you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. Megumi isn’t one for big, flowery declarations, but this, this small, almost hesitant compliment, is enough to make your chest warm. You walk over to him, climbing back into bed and curling up beside him like you always do after waking up.

“Well, if you insist,” you mutter teasingly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I might just steal more of your clothes.”

Megumi huffs, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his loose shirt.

“I don’t mind.”

Yuta Okkotsu

You’ve been staying at Yuta’s apartment for the past few days, crashing at his place while you’re both on a break from missions. It’s been nice: quiet, peaceful, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company without the usual chaos of jujutsu high looming over you.

It’s late in the evening now, and you’ve just gotten out of the shower, feeling refreshed after a long day. As you towel off your hair, you realize you forgot to grab something to wear. Your suitcase is still in the living room, and you don’t really feel like walking out there in just a towel.

Your groan in frustration over your usual absent-mindlessness, eyes landing on one of Yuta’s old sweatshirts, folded neatly on the chair by his desk. It’s a little worn, clearly well-loved, and the idea of wearing something of his brings a smile to your face. Yuta definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing one of his shirts, right? And even if he did…you’d love to see that little blush creep up his face.

Without thinking twice, you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It’s oversized, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, and the fabric is soft and cozy against your skin.

You’re adjusting the sleeves when the door creaks open slightly. You look up just as Yuta steps into the room, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you.

“Oh, hey-” he starts, but then he freezes, his gaze locking onto the sweatshirt you’re wearing.

His face flushes almost instantly, a deep red creeping up his cheeks as he stares at you.

“Uh… is that…?”, Yuta stammers, clearly flustered.

You glance down at the sweatshirt and smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I forgot to grab my clothes, and this looked comfortable.”

Yuta blinks, his face still bright red, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No! I mean, I don’t mind at all! It’s just… you look… um…”

He trails off, his eyes flicking away as if he’s too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

You giggle softly, stepping closer to him, to tease the hell out of him even more. That poor innocent boy who doesn’t even dare looking your direction when you stumble in the bathroom in the morning with noting but a shirt and panties on.

Even though you’ve been together for over a year by now.

“I look… what?”

Yuta clears his throat, still avoiding your gaze.

“You look… really cute,” he mutters, barely audible.

“In my sweatshirt, I mean.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile as you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Yuta.”

He finally meets your gaze, his face still red but his expression softening as he squeezes your hand back.

“You can wear my clothes anytime you want,” he says quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You grin, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I might just take you up on that.”

Yuta chuckles, his arms wrapping around you in return as he pulls you close.

 “I wouldn’t mind,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Not at all.”

Nanami Kento

It’s late, and Nanami is still out on a mission. You’ve been waiting for him to come home, but the clock is ticking past midnight, and exhaustion is beginning to catch up with you. After all, you’ve had a long and exhausting day at work yourself.

You’re curled up on the couch, half-asleep, when the chill of the evening air prompts you to grab something warmer to wear.

Your own clothes are in the bedroom, and you don’t feel like moving that far. Instead, your eyes land on one of Nanami’s neatly folded dress shirts, sitting on the back of a chair. It’s probably not the warmest option, but the idea of wearing something of his feels comforting, like having a part of him with you while you wait for him to return.

You slip the shirt on, the crisp fabric soft against your skin. It’s too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but it’s cozy in its own way. You curl up on the couch again, pulling the sleeves over your hands and breathing in the faint scent of him that still lingers on the fabric.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until the sound of the front door opening stirs you awake. You sit up groggily, blinking as Nanami steps inside, looking tired but unharmed. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the sight of you wearing his shirt.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Nanami’s lips.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he observes, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

You rub your eyes sleepily, nodding.

“It was cold, and I didn’t feel like getting up.”

Nanami walks over to you, his expression soft as he takes in the sight of you.

 “It suits you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“I didn’t expect to come home to this.”

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“If you don’t like it, I can-”

“I like it,” he cuts in, his tone firm but gentle.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand lingers at your cheek.

“I like it very much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch as you look up at him.

“I might have to borrow your clothes more often, then.”

Nanami chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re welcome to them,” he breathes out.

“Though I have to admit, you make my clothes look much better than I do.”

You laugh softly, your heart warming at his rare display of affection.

“I doubt that.”

Nanami shakes his head, his eyes soft and filled with affection as he looks at you.

“It’s true. But regardless, you’re welcome to them anytime” he insists.

With that, he sits down beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body and the comfort of his shirt making you feel safe and content.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, closing your eyes as exhaustion starts to pull you back into sleep.

Nanami presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and soothing as he murmurs,

“Anytime, love.”

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[acoazlove]

A New Place

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Your birthday felt ruined until you met someone new.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst

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They forgot. They forgot that it’s your birthday.

You really couldn’t blame them considering they all have their own lives and issues to deal with, but it didn’t make it any easier.

The main problem you have isn’t really that they had forgotten your birthday, it’s actually that they had celebrated every other holiday and birthday no matter what was going on. They dropped everything for everyone. Except for you.

So to say it hurts is an understatement. The forgotten sister, as per usual. Always left behind and pushed to the side. You suppose it makes sense considering you’re the youngest of your sisters. Always pushed to the side, whether it was intended or not.

For the last three years, things had gone from bad to worse, to just about perfect for your family. But not for you, you felt like a burden. Birthdays are supposed to be special, to celebrate whose day it was. It certainly didn’t feel like it right now.

Wandering through the River House, not a single soul in sight. Everything felt too quiet. No breakfast being made, no presents—not that you expected to get any—and none of your sisters to greet even. They were who you wanted to see right now.

Instead, you make your way to the kitchen and grab an apple instead. As you were about to leave to go for a walk, you hear loud laughing coming from the front door. In walks your sisters, their mates following close behind.

As they make their way to split off from each other, you only get a few smiles and greetings. Nothing else. That’s how you know they have forgotten. So you give them a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Once they’re all out of the doorway, and not giving you a second thought, you take that as your sign to finally go for your walk. The walls now feel incredibly claustrophobic.

What you don’t notice is a certain pair of hazel eyes studying you as you tug on your coat, and pull the door open. The spymaster’s calculated gaze, noticing everything no matter how discrete you think you’re being. His shadows agitatedly circled him as you passed the threshold.

─

Dress brushing the cobblestone streets of Valaris as you stroll down and take in your surroundings, relishing in the fresh air and sunlight warming that previous coldness you felt from the negative start to the day.

Walking past shops, bakeries, and cafes. Passing an oh-so-familiar bookstore before doubling back to head into. You think that maybe browsing for an hour or so could help brighten your already tiring day. Without realising you’re already ambling your way over to the shelves.

Picking up many books, reading their synopsis, and then putting them back in their previous places, you finally find a book that interests you. Feyre’s money isn’t mine. A sour taste fills your mouth at that thought, so you decide against getting it.

Exiting the lovely bookstore with a wave to the cashier you think it might be time to make your way back to the house. Maybe you’ll be able to fix up some food once you’re back. Mindlessly dawdling you through the crowded streets, then deciding to take the long way. There’s no need to be home any earlier than needed.

Moving by stores you’d never seen or heard of before, peering in through the windows, but not daring to go in. A sign catches your eye, ‘Benny’s Bar’ read above the doorway. From the outside, it looks similar to one that you remember in the human lands, just not nearly as beat up. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, hopefully, they’re not too expensive.

You enter, not giving yourself enough time to argue, and the strong scent of alcohol quickly invades your senses. Ignoring it you meander over to the bar.

The interior is much nicer than what you see from the street, with dark wood floors, and the walls a deep shade of green. The same wood as the flooring extends up the wall behind the bar, lined with long shelves, and all kinds of liquor. The tables scattered around the room were well worn, in a charming and homey way, with mismatched chairs pushed under them. Old paintings that seem to have been passed down for generations are pinned up around the room. The lights dim but not dingy, giving the place a warm glow without being too bright.

Passing by the fae, face down on the tables, and loud groups either brainlessly arguing with one another or laughing their asses off, either way, their conversations were unintelligibly slurred. Glancing at the clock hung above the door frame, you wonder just how long they had to have been since it’s only two o’clock. A loud breath escapes you, registering that you’re joining them. Disregard that thought and slide onto a stool regardless of the depressing realisation.

You finally grant yourself a minute to have a proper look at the people working. A large, muscular, older-looking male is behind the bar pouring out drinks, while also barking orders at a couple of younger males out the back, in the kitchen. A tall, black-haired female, her face lips set in a firm line, as she saunters around the room, handing out the drinks the larger male poured. Another stocky male makes his way around the room to wipe down tables and booths, while also pushing in chairs and picking up dirty plates and empty glasses

But the fae who sticks out to you is a female with deep blue skin, and hair a darker navy shade as she walks by some large cabinets with a heavy-looking crate in her arms. Once she notices your presence, a charming smile stretches across her lips and makes her way over to you. Your lips quirk up in response.

“Hi, Love, what can I get you?” her voice has a lovely rasp to it. However, your face heats for an entirely different reason, not having any experience with taverns in general, but also not much with alcohol either.

Contemplating your answer, your hands wringing together in your lap, “What do you recommend?” your words come out softer than intended. Her smile softens slightly, and it makes you tense up, now feeling out of place. “Don’t drink much?”

Her words cause a soft huff to pass your lips. “Not really.” your shoulders slump forward, but her smile brightens once again as she heads over to the alcohol-filled shelves that line the wall behind her. Grabbing a bottle of clear liquid, and a tall glass. She takes the lid off with a pop, and pours out a small amount, slowly sliding the glass across to you. She watches you, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

You pick up the drink, lift it to your nose, and instantly recoil. The smell felt like it singed your nose hairs. A soft chuckle escapes the female's lips. “I wouldn’t recommend sniffing it,” she leans over the counter as if to tell you a secret, “It’s easier if you down it in one go.”

With a slight nod, you lift the glass to your lips, follow her advice a down it in one go. It burns your throat as it slides down, and your nose scrunches slightly in response. “Didn’t taste easier.” a snort escapes her. “Unfortunately this bar doesn’t have any of the fancy sweet drinks that others do.” Your lips curve up. “I’m Benny by the way.” The Owner. Your grin grows a little and you give her your name.

─

Hours later you’re in the same spot, conversation is flowing easily with Benny—who hasn’t left her spot behind the bar since you entered. Refill your drinks when needed. The alcohol is easier with every drink you have. The bad morning your day started with is like a distant memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see It’s now dark out.

Sloppily turning to the clock to see the time—11:30—then back to face the female in front of you, now aware of the fact that you had spent your entire birthday in a tavern, you let out a long sigh. Benny tilts her head to the side from the sound, but as she opens her mouth to speak you beat her to it.

“It’s my birthday.” you blurt out, words coming out slurred, but you brush it off and continue. “My entire family forgot. Didn’t even wish me a happy birthday before I left the house.” a small sniffle followed your words.

Benny frowns. “I know who your family is, honey,” you stiffen and she resumes. “You never know, they could have a surprise birthday waiting for you.” trying to lighten your mood at least a little bit, and it makes you straighten briefly before your shoulders curl inward once again. Not believing her words. And by the way, Benny shifts on her feet, you know she doesn’t even believe it.

“Unlikely,” you mumble. Finger swirling around the edge of your empty glass. Benny lets out a huff, tapping her fingers on the wooden bar before she turns around and grabs a different bottle from the shelf, a rich brown one. She also grabs another glass before turning back to you.

She pours a generous amount into both glasses, and rather than bringing it straight to her mouth she holds it in the air, seemingly waiting for you to do the same. So you mirror her movement. She clinks her glass with yours, “To you! Happy Birthday, Love.” Both of you finish your drinks in one go.

“Thank you, Benny.” Looking over your shoulder another sigh exits you. “I should head back now.” Turning back to her. She nods.

As you slide off your seat, swaying as you straighten your dress, readying to leave. “If you need a place to stay, I have an apartment upstairs that needs an owner.” she offers just as you are about to turn away. “I know I don't know your current situation, but a new place to stay might do you some good.” A smile tugs at your lips.

“I don’t have money to pay for it,” You reply. Yes, your sister and her mate have more money than one ever could imagine, you still couldn’t help but feel like you’d owe them if you used any more of it than just drinks you had today.

Benny dismisses your words with a wave of her hand. “Don't worry about that, I have an opening to work here.” she gestures to the bar. “If you don't, I could always help you find a different one.”

Your smile softened slightly. “Thank you, Benny,” repeating your words from earlier. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, you wave her goodbye and exit the tavern. Swaying and stumbling drunkenly over the uneven cobblestone streets, as your mind churns with the thoughts that your family are most likely gathered in the living room, after sharing a lovely family dinner. They’ll probably judge you for the fact that you had a couple of drinks too many, that thought makes you feel a little queasy.

─

After a long time of manoeuvring your way through the nearly empty streets, you finally find yourself staring at the front door of the River House. Dread fills you thinking about what kind of conversation you’re about to have.

With a heavy sigh, you push the door open, stepping inside. The first thing you hear is their loud laughter. The door closes behind you louder than expected, and you grimace. The voices quiet down as you stumble your way towards the sitting room. From the doorway you see all heads turn to you. Everyone’s here. Even Lucien and Varian are seated next to their partners.

“Y/N!” Feyres's cheery voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Your back.” You step closer, her nose flares subtly, and her smile falters. But Nesta’s the one who says something. “You smell like a Tavern.” Her tone is sharp enough to make you flinch.

“I had a couple of drinks.” your reply words slurred, shrugging your shoulders drunkenly, and an uncomfortable silence follows.

“More like the whole bottle.” Mor seemingly trying to lighten the mood, her joke makes a couple of people snicker.

“We didn’t even notice you were gone.” Amren deadpans. Heads whipped in her direction at her statement, ready to scold her. “It’s true. Don’t even try to deny it.” Her voice is harsh.

Your brows pull together at the fact that no one tried to argue, and your nonchalance falters, giving way to frustration and anger at the entirety of the situation and your ruined day.

“It’s my Birthday.” your voice a near growl. Everyone’s eyes widen both at your admission and at your unusual tone of voice. Usually so soft-spoken, and gentle. The complete opposite of right now. Another disappointment.

“I was willing to chalk it up as stress from your own lives.” Your breathing ragged. “But you've been sitting here for hours and like Amren said, you didn’t even realise I was gone for something as small as a family dinner!”

Your eyes flit around the room as you continue, “Oh, and not to mention the fact that you have all taken the time to celebrate every other holiday and birthday! I guess my day isn't important enough to remember compared to the festivities that hardly even get recognized by the general public!” You practically spat your words.

Now you take a moment to look around at them. Feyre’s face is contorted in guilt, Elain looks as if she might cry, Nesta’s staring at her lap, and everyone else is either wide-eyed or unable to meet your gaze.

The lack of response further fuels your rage. The only person who looks as if they might say something is Azriel. His usually stoic features falter, but he hesitates. A look crossing his face that you couldn’t quite make out. Not wanting to linger on that any longer, you turn your gaze back to the rest of them.

You scoff. “Nothing?” Looking up at the ceiling, too many emotions are warring in you and are far too much for you to handle in your drunken state.

At the extended silence, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the entrance. No one even calls after you. That's enough for you to grasp the fact that you can't stay here. Not anymore.

The door slamming behind you, rings throughout the house. It didn’t matter as the cool nighttime air slammed into you, the lingering effects of the alcohol wearing off entirely.

Your arms wrap around yourself to keep the cold out as you amble down the streets of the City of Starlight, the stars shining above you now not bringing the same comfort as they once did. Once again you find yourself outside a familiar building. Making your way inside, Instantly finding who you unconsciously were looking for.

Benny turns towards the entrance as the door shuts, her face falls as she takes in your expression. She quickly makes her way to her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and leading you to a more private corner of the tavern.

“Is your offer still on the table?” Your voice is hoarse and watery. Benny gives a nod, ushering you passed the kitchen and up a set of stairs.

A new place. Already feeling more at home than with those who are supposed to care for you.

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a/n: I know there isn’t any interactions between Az and Reader yet but there will be! This didn’t come out exactly how I wanted, so I might came back to this at some point, and there might also be some spelling mistakes. The editing took longer than expected so sorry for the delay. I’ll try and get a part two out as soon as I can, hope you enjoyed. <3

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @blackgirlmagicforever

[steor-ra]

Bring back the dead

Y!batfam x neglected!Gn

(I do not own any characters named mentioned! )

Being a Wayne had disadvantages, especially as the forgotten child of your father. You aren't supposed to be born, your mother isn't supposed to conceive, and you're not supposed to be linked to Bruce Wayne.

Yet here you are

You may not exist to your father, brothers, or sisters, relying solely on the butler for emotional support that your family has never provided since the day you arrived at the house. However, you do exist in the eyes of the media, scandalized by the fact that your mother was a whore who was snatched away by the drug she had consumed since the day you were born; your mother did not want you.

Growing up, you kept that information buried deep within you, along with the notion that your father never wanted you. No one in the family does. No matter what you do, how you do it, or where you do it, they will never bat an eye at you. Get it? Because they're a bat vigilante, so it's ironic that they will never be the bat hero that they are to you, and instead be the devils who made you occasionally ponder if you were born simply to be a ghost to someone who made you.

Haha

And now you live with the fact that your family will never come to you; they don't have the reason now that you're all independent and working for yourself with Alfred's long-term support. You don't expect them to come and help you, not even in costume.

Being a Wayne means dealing with villains who know Batman's secret identity and use it to kidnap his most vulnerable child and threaten the bat, or criminals who use you for ransom for a large sum of money, but you already knew how to handle it from all those years, and you already knew how to handle these situations because of all the years they occurred, and you've always managed to escape them without the help of your vigilante brothers and sisters.

It stings to know that there is no chance that your siblings will genuinely spend a moment of your time rather than brushing you off with a sheepish apology and a pat on the back using the same old justifications. They're busy.

Adding some promises that will always be broken again and again and again Until there's no hope for you to tug on.

As for your father, Bruce. He is too busy with two of his lives to even acknowledge you. Despite being the greatest detective of all, he never appears to recognize you among your siblings. Always rejecting you without even looking at you, too preoccupied with continuing to read his important papers to notice how his own child is rapidly dissapearing from his life.

Dick Grayson, your brother who has the potential to notice you but never does. You understand that his duties are in Bludhaven, and that he only visits the manor for whatever purpose, and you hate that one of them was because of Damian. Bonding with his newly added sibling and assisting the child in adjusting to his new surroundings. Doing all the things that he never did with you when you were a small child, hell, even younger than Damian, when you were first brought to the manor. Dick, the guy who adores his family but never looks twice at you.

Tim, just like bruce, that guy is always tired because he never leaves his duties as a vigilante, is too busy to care for Bruce's neglected child, and would rather uncover some unsolved cases than acknowledge the person who can heal him and the family dysfunction, but you don't hate him for his negligence. Aside from being the red Robin, you don't know much about him, and he's more of a stranger to you than an acquaintance. Isn't this sad? That is why he will not come to mind when you eventually decide to leave the manor without looking back; in fact, none of them will.

While Jason Todd have the chance to be forgiven by you because, out of all your "siblings," he has more fond memories with you than any of them, despite the fact that he rarely visits the manor. However, he is more of an acquaintance than a personal friend to you. But at least you know him better than Tim. Jason is the most difficult and easiest to grasp, so you'll feel more at ease with him should they decide to take notice of you and kidnap you back to the mansion.

Finally, Damian, the demon sent by the cosmos to make your life miserable, is not ignoring you like your other brothers; he is there solely to mock you until you die. Always harassing and degrading you in the manor's hallways, calling you names and talking about how you are undeserving of walking through this house because you are just an accident caused by a whore and his father, calling you weak because you can't defend yourself against someone younger than you and instead choose to ignore him and run away. You've never loathed someone so much that you'd die to be rid of them; you despise Damian Wayne, your own blood brother.

You tried to be the best siblings for him, fantasizing about how you two would bond, spending sleepless nights planning how you'd take advantage of your chance to finally have siblings in the manor despite having so many, only to be heartbroken by his heartless rejection of your offer.

And of course there's Barbara, Stephanie, duke and Cassandra but you never really got the chance to get to know them that much since you've already left the manor for good.

Leaving no trace of your existence.

Living alone in Gotham is difficult; there are too many risks everywhere you go, especially as a Wayne, and even if you've tried to distance yourself from any ties to being a Wayne, you can't simply make the media forget about the infamous but forgotten accidental child of playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. Only Batman, your father, can, but he won't since he doesn't care; you don't need his help anyhow. You already learned how to protect yourself against the crooks of Gotham ever since you realized that no matter what happened, Batman wouldn't save you from it, therefore that's why you always carry a knife with you, and with the help of material art, you learnt not too long ago.

You're not that confident walking through the streets of Gotham though. There's many people who could recognize you for being Bruce Wayne's child, so they'll swarm on you, asking multiple questions. 

'Why are you walking all alone?'

'Where is your father? '

'Is it true that you're the biological child of bruce Wayne'

'Where is your mother now? Is she still roaming on the underground and whoring herself out?'

They'll laugh that your face and will continue to ask multiple questions that your teenage mind couldn't even comprehend as you've always thought the same thing

There's also some time where you've been kidnapped for ransom, only there when bruce declines their call on your phone multiple times that they'll realize that you're not worth it, so, they'll let you go as you question your worth.

But you're strong. You don't need bruce to save your ass like how he does to your siblings despite them being professional on fighting unlike you.

Oh, god. why are you so selfish? They fight villain's who could actually kill you meanwhile you're just handling some thugs that could be knocked out with their single punch. Stop complaining.

Would they like me better if I was kidnapped by someone more villainous like the joker or Scarecrow? Would they actually care if I die right now?

they wont wouldn't they?

You've been held captive in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere for an amount of $2 million. Your limbs are currently tightly roped together, with no way to release them. You tried two hours ago, but it is still not moving. You can only beg the gods to allow Bruce to answer the call they've been trying to send him, but it's always been denied.

You can't help but let out another sob as you hear the call being sent to voicemail instead.

The kidnapper lets out a frustrated sound when the phone is declined again, "Alright! If this motherfucker doesn't answer one more time, I am going to torture you alright, sweetie?" It smirks and rolls in a tray of equipment, which you think is the torture instruments, sending shivers down your spine as the silver's shone upon your eyes.

"If your big ol daddy don't pick up this call, you're dead."

Dad, please... i don't want to die...

The manor felt more lonely than it ever was. The hallways felt like a never-ending tunnel, and the silence felt so uncomfortable for all of them that they couldn't help but squirm slightly in their seats.

Dick felt like something is missing...He doesn't feel that nagging feeling about talking to you for months now...

Oh yeah.

You, when was the last time he checked on you? Why can't he remember your voice or...or...The way you look?

Fuck, it's been a year since he checked on you huh?

So he checked each door one by one; the more he checked, the more guilty he felt for not knowing where your room was, and suddenly, it struck him... All of these rooms look the same; don't you decorate yours or even mark it as yours!?

He panicked. Do you even live in the manor? Where is your room, you didn't mention anything about leaving—ah!

He could just ask Alfred! Yeah, and he'll lead him to your room where he'd greet you and ask how your day was...

What exactly are you doing right now? He's ashamed to admit it, but he couldn't recall any occasions when you two would hang out; did he ever try to approach you? I do not think so. He'll make sure that will change as soon as he Sees you, whether you like it or not. right now, he needs to make up for all of his negligent behavior over the years. In fact, he'll remind Bruce and the rest of his siblings of your existence so that nothing will bother him anymore.

"Alfred!" Dick's lone hope of finding you stood out in all its grandeur, with a somber expression on the butler's face. Maybe Alfred knows where you are? He is the only individual who has ever been close to anyone joined to the Batfamily, so perhaps he does.

"Yes master dick? I assume you stand of need for something?"

"Um yeah– Alfred," he stammered. "Do you know where...y/n's room is?" The way your name sounds foreign on his tongue makes him want to rip it out.

"Young Master has left the manor a year ago, Master Dick. I've completely forgotten where their room is, considering it's the same as the rest of the guests rooms"

A year ago? he checked on you a year ago did he not? Why didn't he notice anything...that day.

Oh god, his baby sibling wouldn't survive outside of gotham. What makes you think that you can handle the harsh wind of gotham, You can't!

Shit he has to take you back, He has to take his baby sibling back. you'll die if you last outside longer. He have to find you, but how!?

He–he doesn't have your number nor know anything about you at all!

"Alright, thanks, Alfred," he murmured dejectedly, winning Alfred's sympathy. Who reconsidered something that you'll mostly get deranged at.

"Perhaps if you'd like, I can give you some video documentaries about them so you can find them."

Deeply apologies, young master, but your absence is making me worry all day.

(Next chapter)

A/n: just a random thought at a random night lol, will probably be a series, sorry if I ever mischaracterizes anyone here, I just stick to the way many people views them like ಥ_ಥ english is not my first language so I apologize for any grammatical error as I just rely for translation of some of my languages there. Also! This is heavily inspired by @acid-ixx with his again & again series, @gotham-daydreams 's work, @i-cant-sing's work, and @klemen-tine's work make sure to check those out! OR ELSE!

[onlyhyunjin]

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!

(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT

NEW BEGINNINGS - @ikeuverse (flirting with your brother's brother-in-law wasn't in your plans after returning from studying abroad. it wasn't something you were going to stop either since heeseung was the epitome of beauty. but when there's another woman's name in the story. what happens? you don't want to be caught between a betrayal… or so you thought.) (♡)

MARRY ME - @ikeuverse (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)

TIDES OF REGRET - @pprodsuga (in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.) (♡)(🔞)

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER - @i2sunric (your daughter asks heeseung to tell the greatest love story of all and he takes the chance to narrate how he met you, the love of his life.) (♡)

JUNE BLOSSOMS - @soobnny (synopsis. as the month of may ends, you wonder what june holds for you and heeseung (especially with no more need to fake date.)

LATE SUMMER LOVIN' - @4am-enha (you desperately want to spend your last summer here in town with your friends, only to find out almost all of them are away on vacation. that is, all of them but heeseung. the one friend you’d never really been that close with.)

BITE ME - @drunkhazed (“I’m kind of confused still.” You admit, anxiously shuffling to sit without making eye-contact. Heeseung chuckles plopping down by your side, arm slinging back over your shoulder to keep you pressed against him.)(🔞)

COFFEE & CREAM - @ham-st4r (one chilly night after a long work shift, you’re unfortunately forced to walk home. Cause you left your bag at work, half way through your journey you stumble across a homeless man who you naturally offer money to, and he though he refuses. You give it to him anyway, and down the road, you’ll find that those two dollars changed not only his life but yours as well.) (🔞)

IT'S CUPID, STUPID - @mygnolia (To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?)

FUCK BUDDIES - @dimepdf (y/n and heeseung and fwb after heeseung win in his football match y/n gives him the best reward)

TEETH - @gyuuberryy (you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy.)

PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM - @simpjaes (You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.) (🔞)

RUDE - @4wkjun (heeseung has never loved anyone as much as he loves y/n. y/n’s father has never hated someone as much as he hates heeseung. but it doesn’t matter, heeseung’s gonna marry y/n anyway.)

I OFFER YOU MY EVERYTHING - @heegyukeluv (You never cared about sex, until you did. You grew too afraid of it, scared of disappointing the other person or showing your inexperience. But then you met Heeseung, the hot basketball captain that stole your heart and became your biggest fantasy. ) (🔞)

VERBOTEN - @heesbaby (a bad stroke of luck saw lee heeseung, your dads coworker, moving into your small apartment until he found his feet again. emotionally unavailable and a workaholic, you were going to try your absolute hardest to make him loosen up. even if it meant breaking a few of the house rules he'd set out.) (🔞) (♡)

10 DAYS TO FALL IN LOVE - @luvyeni (you and heeseung used to be bestfriends as children — he even told you he'd marry you one day. but then you went to highschool and things changed , he dyed his hair and started hanging out with a new group group of friends. through all that his love never changed for you — has yours changed for him?)

RENT A BOYFRIEND - @jayujus (in which jeon y/n is desperate to find a boyfriend ASAP because she needs a date for her family's mixer. her best friend, ningning, introduces her to a website perfect for this situation!)

CHERRY CHAPSTICK - @angelwonie (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi!! I LOVE the pizzeria! I would love to place an order for a pizza! I’d like a thin crust pizza with Red sauce, pepperonis, jalenpeno, bacon and banana peppers with a water and sprite to drink served by Lando Norris!

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brothers best friend red sauce rough sex pepperoni "be a good girl and you'll get what you want" jalapenos "always such a fucking brat" bacon "what would your brother think if he caught us" banana peppers "look so pretty riding my cock" water breeding kink sprite size kink dessert no served by Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Verstappen reader

TW rough sex, some degrading words, cock riding, creampie

WC 1200+

Y/N POV

"Always such a fucking brat," Lando mumbles against my ear. I mean he was right I was being a brat but it was all intentional.

I had been wanting Lando to fuck me, like really fuck me. So I've spent the whole weekend doing little things to piss him off.

Started by telling him I would spend my Friday and Saturday in the Red Bull garage to support my brother but then right before the boys needed to get into their car Lando happened to find me in the Ferrari garage. Which I was only there talking to Alex and Rebecca but in that moment he happened to catch me talking to Carlos, and while it was about Lando, Lando didn't need to know that.

Somehow that still didn't work. I could see the hurt flash in his eyes but he just kind of shrugged his shoulders and accepted my answer when I told him.

Then Saturday night we decided to have dinner with my brother and a few of the other drivers. During the whole dinner I pretty much gave all of my attention to Oscar and Lily making Lando groan and grip my thigh roughly making me think I was finally gonna get what I wanted but then when we got back to the hotel that night he told me he was tired and just gonna get a good night's sleep before the race.

I had one last chance to get fucked the way I needed to before we would be parting ways for a week.

It's Sunday which means race day. I always spend my time with Lando on Sunday. Some weekends Id go to Red Bull and others I would stay at Mclaren but no matter where I spent the weekend I was always in the Mclaren garage during the race.

But today, I decided to inform Lando that I was planning on watching from the Redbull garage since my brother had been struggling with the car and I wanted to be there to support him.

That was Lando's final straw.

After telling him I was gonna leave the Mclaren garage is when he called me a brat finally realizing what I had been doing all weekend.

"Did you think I didn't notice?" Lando questions while he ushers us into his driver's room where he quickly locked the door and pushed me against the wall.

"The way you lied about which garage you would be in, to giving Oscar and Lily heart eyes all last night practically begging to go back into their room and be their slut for them to use, to now trying to piss me off by saying you would be in a different garage during the race when it has always been the deal that Sunday's is a Mclaren day," Lando says with venom in his voice before he crashes his lips onto mine making me whimper into his mouth.

"Is this what you wanted?" Lando snapped making me nod my head sheepishly. Lando just scoffs before he makes quick work of stripping both of us down before he's on his knees pulling my clit into his mouth and giving it a long suck.

"Fuck," I groan when the pleasure starts coursing through my body.

"I needed this," I whimper out making Lando smirk against my pussy.

Lando keeps quick work with his tongue while bringing his fingers to my pussy before shoving them into my pussy and making me gasp at the quick intrusion.

"Fuck," I moan softly when Lando starts hitting my G-spot bringing me to an orgasm far quicker than I wanted.

When Lando can feel my pussy clenching and twitching around his fingers in a silent warning of my impending orgasm he pulls his fingers out and stops playing with my clit making me whine and whimper at the loss of pleasure.

"Be a good girl and you'll get what you want," Lando says while laughing slightly at my desperation. I only whine a bit louder before Lando roughly grips into my hair and starts pulling me towards the couch before he plops down and pulls his shorts down leaving him in just a shirt.

"Since you wanted to be a brat, you get to do the work," Lando says sharply making me climb into his lap and sink down on his cock making both of us gas.

I'm sinking down too slowly for Lando's liking because he grips onto my hips and pulls me down completely making me gasp again at the sharp intrusion.

I don't get much time to adjust because Lando starts bouncing me up and down his cock like I was his own personal toy, making me grip his shoulders to keep my balance while throwing my head back in a loud moan.

"Look so pretty riding my cock," Lando mumbles making me moan.

"So good," I whimper while speeding up my actions trying to chase the orgasm Lando had denied me earlier.

"Fuck, how are you still this fucking tight," Lando groans throwing his head back and showing off his neck I have always loved. I bend down and place a soft kiss on it before sinking my teeth and leaving a faint hickey.

"No way you just marked me up right before I'm gonna be on live TV for 3 hours," Lando says roughly while taking control over again and bouncing me on his cock in such a quick and rough succession my mind gets lost and I can no longer think about anything but the way his cock is invading me.

"What would your brother think if he caught us? You bouncing on my cock with your head thrown back begging and whiney like a proper whore for me to use," Lando says roughly while fucking into my pussy and bringing one of his hands down to slap my clit making me whimper at the slight burn.

"You fucking loved that, I felt the way your pussy clenched for more," Lando says while landing another slap on my clit making me whimper.

"Close," I mumble. Lando just grabs my hips and lifts me up slightly so he can start thrusting into my pussy far faster than when he was using me like a toy.

"Fuck!" I scream while I start cumming all over Lando's cock making him groan.

"I'm gonna fill this pussy up, get you nice and full with my cum so one day I can watch you swell with my babies," Lando groans out before sending one last thrust deep into my pussy before he starts painting the walls of my soaked pussy with his cum making me moan at the feeling.

KNOCK KNOCK

We hear on the door making us scramble to find our clothes. When Lando is just in his boxers and the undershirt for his fireproofs he opens the door he makes sure to shield the door with his body not wanting anyone in the garage to see the scene behind him.

"We need you in the car in 5 minutes," I hear his engineer tell Lando making me dress even quicker. Lando just tells him he will be ready before closing the door.

"You're staying in Mclaren," Lando says leaving absolutely no room for argument.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 8

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The next day, the headlines dominated the news:

"The Barnes Brothers' Hidden Scandal Exposed"

"Shawn Barnes: The Untouchable Elite Dodging Justice"

"Political Candidate’s Family Ties to Corruption Unveiled"

At the campaign headquarters, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The usual hum of activity was replaced by silence, only broken by the sound of phones ringing off the hook.

Steve stood near the table, crumpling a newspaper in his hands, frustration written all over his face. Bucky stood by the window, his posture rigid as he stared out into the distance, lost in thought.

Steve let out a heavy sigh, massaging his temples. "I didn’t expect they’d bring up Shawn at the debate."

Bucky turned slightly, his voice calm but carrying an edge. "You know Brock. He always hits below the belt, always makes it personal."

Steve glanced out at the campaign team, who were scrambling. The room beyond was a flurry of chaos: phones ringing non-stop, staff members anxiously typing responses, pacing as they fielded questions from the press, all trying to extinguish the flames of the scandal. Steve ran a hand through his hair as he watched, feeling the weight of the situation.

"The numbers are tanking," Steve muttered, his face grim. "After this, the public’s furious. Voters won’t back a candidate whose family used connections to dodge the law."

Bucky’s jaw tightened as Steve continued, "People hate it when those with power think they’re above punishment. That’s the real damage here. It’s not just about Shawn—it’s about what it represents."

The trend #CatchShawnBarnes was everywhere, climbing to the top spot on social media. The timing couldn’t have been worse. The firestorm had erupted, fueled by rumors and bots likely hired by Brock and Edgar’s teams, intensifying the outrage.

Bucky broke the silence with a quiet, "I’m sorry."

Steve looked at him, shaking his head. "Don’t be. This isn’t on you, Buck." His tone softened. "Besides, it’s not your fault."

Steve had known the Barnes family long enough to understand the full story. Shawn, the eldest son, always had an ego, fed by the wealth and privilege of his upbringing. With everything handed to him, he acted like the world owed him, seeing himself as untouchable.

In truth, it was Shawn who was supposed to enter politics. But unlike Bucky, he lacked the charisma and leadership qualities. Caroline, their mother, had long since given up hope on her eldest son, who had failed to live up to expectations.

Back then, Bucky had been a quiet presence, almost invisible in his own home. Caroline had never even heard his voice much, even though they lived under the same roof. But everything changed when Bucky entered law school. There, he shone.

He joined clubs, became student president, volunteered, organized demonstrations, and eventually graduated as valedictorian. Every trait of a leader was there, clear for everyone to see—especially Caroline. She shifted her attention to Bucky, molding him into the perfect candidate, ensuring he stayed on the path to success.

Shawn, once the golden child, watched as the spotlight shifted to his younger brother. The attention, the purpose he had once enjoyed, slipped away. He felt lost, purposeless. That’s when the spiral began. The drugs were his escape, his way of coping with the emptiness.

At first, it was subtle. But soon, it became public knowledge—Shawn Barnes was a cocaine addict. In an attempt to save face, Caroline and Julius sent him to rehab. But the real disaster struck when Shawn escaped, driving under the influence. That’s when the accident happened—the night he hit someone with his car.

Steve didn’t know the full details after that. What he did know was that Shawn had paid bail and was sent to another rehab, the entire incident hushed up. The Barnes family had buried the scandal deep, hoping it would never see the light of day.

But as Steve thought to himself, no matter how deep you bury something, eventually the stench of rot seeps through.

"I’ll fix this," Bucky said, his voice low but determined.

Steve raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "How, exactly?"

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The Barnes household felt colder than ever, the tension suffocating the room. Shawn sat in the corner, hunched over, hugging his knees. His fingernails were chewed down to the skin, his pale face etched with panic.

"Shit... shit..." he muttered under his breath, eyes darting around the room like a caged animal.

Across the room, Caroline and Julius were in a quiet panic. Caroline paced, wringing her hands, her face pale with fear. Julius stood by the window, his jaw clenched, staring out as if searching for answers that weren’t there.

You sat on the sofa, watching the unfolding chaos like a distant spectator. It was almost theatrical—the Barnes family, once so composed, unraveling before your eyes.

Just then, the door creaked open, and you turned to see Bucky walking in. His face was a mask of determination, his eyes dark and unreadable.

You rose from the sofa and approached him. Before you could speak, he cut you off with a low, firm voice. “I want you to stay out of sight. Away from the windows.”

You frowned but nodded, sensing the weight of his words. He brushed past you without another glance and made his way toward Shawn.

Shawn looked up at Bucky, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He seemed so small in front of his younger brother, almost shrinking under the weight of Bucky’s presence.

“Get up,” Bucky ordered, his voice hard. Without waiting for a response, he reached down and pulled Shawn to his feet.

Shawn stumbled but didn’t resist. He followed Bucky like a lost child.

“Where are you taking him?” Caroline’s voice trembled as she rushed forward to stop them, but Bucky didn’t break stride.

“What he should’ve done years ago,” Bucky answered coldly, dragging Shawn along.

Caroline hurried after them, her heels clicking against the floor. “Bucky, wait! What do you mean?”

Bucky led them outside, the sound of the door swinging open making Caroline stop in her tracks. She froze as her eyes widened in shock. There, right outside their home, were TV station cameras, police cars, and flashing lights.

Caroline’s heart pounded in her chest. “Bucky,” she hissed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “How could you do this? This is a public execution! You’re putting a guillotine to your own brother!”

Julius stepped forward, his voice tired but stern. “Son, is this really the only way?”

Bucky turned briefly to look at his parents, his expression cold. “We have to set an example.”

Caroline’s face twisted in fear, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Bucky, please... don’t do this.”

Before Bucky could respond, Shawn’s voice rang out, shaky but clear. “Stop!” he shouted.

Caroline flinched, her eyes locking with Shawn’s. His face was pale, but his eyes, for the first time in years, looked determined.

“Mother,” Shawn said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been free from jail, but there’s been a shackle on me ever since. Guilt has haunted me every day. I’ve been hiding, running, pretending it didn’t happen. But it did. And I need to face it.”

Bucky gave his brother a nod, and Shawn took a shaky breath before turning to him. “Let’s go.”

They walked toward the press together. Cameras flashed as Bucky led Shawn to the bouquet of microphones, the press shouting questions over one another. Shawn took a deep breath and stepped forward. His hands trembled as he gripped the podium.

“I made a mistake,” Shawn began, his voice cracking. “I was reckless... I hurt someone. I ran from it, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry—for what I did and for hiding it for so long.”

As the words left his mouth, you could see the weight of guilt lifting from his shoulders, though his face remained heavy with regret. He glanced at Bucky, who stood beside him, stoic but supportive. Bucky knew how much the accident haunted Shawn, how it had eaten him alive from the inside out.

After Shawn finished his confession, he stepped away from the podium and voluntarily walked toward the waiting police car. The press erupted with questions aimed at Bucky. One reporter shouted above the rest, “Why did you expose your own brother like this?”

Bucky met the reporter’s gaze, his voice steady and firm. “Because no one is above the law.”

As Shawn was driven away, Caroline stood frozen in the doorway, her face a mask of fury. She didn’t want to look at Bucky, not now, not after what he’d done. Julius said nothing, too exhausted to protest or intervene.

Once the commotion had died down, you walked up to Bucky, your voice low. “You don’t feel guilty? Sacrificing your own brother like that?”

Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "I'll do anything to get that position. It’s all for you too, babe." His voice was low, dangerous, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the intensity in his gaze as his lips hovered just inches from your skin. The closeness sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something intoxicating in the way he said it, like a promise that left you both thrilled and unnerved.

You met his gaze, your pulse racing. "You’re crazy," you muttered, though the words felt weaker than you intended.

Without another word, you pulled away, leaving him standing there, the charge of the moment lingering long after you had gone.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day you returned to the campaign headquarters, where the atmosphere was thick with tension.

So much had happened in the past 48 hours. The campaign team buzzed with a frenetic energy, fueled by the fallout from Shawn’s confession. Despite the chaos, there was a flicker of optimism; his admission had managed to regain some trust from the voters.

Yet, you could sense the undercurrent of anxiety. Everyone was on edge, aware that the storm wasn't over. Phone calls rang out, strategy meetings were called, and you could see the weight of the situation pressing down on each team member's shoulders. You felt a mix of relief and dread—relief that there was hope, but dread about what might come next.

Your brother, Tim was still focused and serious as he poured over the reports, his usual calm replaced by a quiet intensity. You watched him for a moment, feeling a strange pang of guilt in your chest. But you couldn’t linger on that.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

The streets were busy, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the chaos of everything that had happened. The scandal, the press, Bucky. It felt like everything was unraveling. The nearest café was only a block away, and you pushed through the door, grateful for the brief respite.

That’s when you saw him.

Ian.

He was leaning casually against the counter, a cup of coffee in hand, but the moment he spotted you, something changed in his expression. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was far from friendly.

You froze in place, staring at him for a beat too long. “Are you spying on us?” you asked, your voice low but sharp as you crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Ian's smirk widened as if he’d been waiting for this. “Isn’t it obvious?” he replied, his tone almost teasing but dripping with bitterness. “I work with the other side now.”

You felt a surge of frustration, but more than that, something inside you twisted—an old wound reopening. You took a step closer, your eyes narrowing.

“We’ve worked together, Ian. We’ve seen injustice and unfairness in the world. But this…” You hesitated, searching his face for any trace of the person you used to know. “This feels personal.”

Ian’s smile faded, replaced by something darker. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, everyone in the café left, leaving just the two of you inside.

You were taken aback, a chill running down your spine as the door swung shut behind the last customer.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You got that right,” he said, his eyes burning with something deep and unresolved.

“The person who died in that car accident? The one your dear Bucky’s brother killed? That was my twin brother.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the world around you narrowing to just Ian and the heavy weight of his words. “Your twin…” you whispered, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

Ian’s expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Yeah. My twin brother. Both of us were put up for adoption. I didn’t even know he existed until I was fourteen years old.”

He turned his gaze away from you, the memories clearly painful, but he didn’t stop. “I was adopted by a British couple. Grew up thinking I was an only child. It wasn’t until I did some digging into my adoption records that I found out about him. My twin.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as you listened, unable to speak. Ian’s voice was tight with emotion, but he pressed on.

“I was so damn happy when I found him. We bonded right away, as if we’d never been apart.” His voice softened, but the pain was unmistakable.

“We stayed in touch. Became close. We had so much to catch up on, and it was like I finally had someone who understood me in a way no one else could.”

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “But then…” He looked back at you, his eyes blazing with anger. “Then Shawn Barnes took him away from me. He killed him. And your husband family covered it all up.”

You flinched at the venom in his words, your heart pounding in your chest. You had no idea. You hadn’t known the full story, and now it was staring you in the face.

Ian stepped even closer, invading your space, his eyes searching yours for something—maybe regret, maybe guilt. “They buried it. Buried him. And now you’re standing by their side, supporting the man whose family let my brother’s killer walk free.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You felt frozen, torn between your loyalty to Bucky and the weight of Ian’s grief and anger.

You knew about the cover-up involving Shawn, but who were you to uncover the truth, especially knowing it would be futile to fight against Caroline?

Now, guilt washed over you for having ignored this. It turned out the victim was closer than you had ever realized.

Ian’s voice softened, but the intensity didn’t fade. “Tell me,” he said, his gaze piercing into you. “After all of this… after everything you know… do you still trust him?”

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[gojo-licious]

The Big Bad Wolf?!

Summary: Satoru is a wolf hybrid and started working for your department where only prey animal hybrids work. What could possibly go wrong? It’s not like he has a crush on you, his boss who just so happens to be a sheep.

Warnings: 18+, mdni, fem! reader, afab reader, hybrids, reader is a sheep-hybrid, Satoru is a wolf-hybrid, reader goes into heat, sub-ish! Satoru, bondage (Satoru gets his hands tied up), breeding kink, pet names (baby, sweetheart), unprotected, p in v

a/n: I read "I'm a Wolf, but by Boss is a Sheep" and got inspired to put my own twist on it!

"I'm sorry Satoru-kun, but we need you to work overtime today. But I promise it’s the last time this month!“ you say empathetically, understanding that he probably wants to go home on time.

The deadline for the project your department has been working on is moving closer, much faster than anticipated. Most of the work has been already finished, but the draft Satoru sent in needs to be refined before tomorrow's meeting.

"Oh! It’s okay. I will finish my work as fast as you can and then I can drop you off at the station." Satoru replies without showing a hint of sadness or any tiredness. In fact he looks excited to spend more time at the office. Especially since it’s just the two of you left on the floor, everyone else already left.

"I'm still very sorry, Satoru-kun. I know you were excited to head home early today. You did say that one of the games you play is releasing a new DLC today. I will buy you dinner tomorrow to make it up to you, is that okay?“ you reach to ruffle his hair affectionately in an attempt to convey that you truly feel apologetic.

Satoru's ears perk up. The wolf-like ears on the top of his head stand up and his tail starts to swoosh back and forth like that of an excited puppy. Dinner? Alone with you? That’s the closest to a date he has ever had! "Of course!“ he states a little too enthusiastically. "I mean- I mean, yes, that would be lovely!"

His eagerness is delightful and elicits a giggle out of you. "Okay. I will make a reservation for us. Now, how about we both finish our work and head home, hm?" you lightly scratch behind his ears affectionately.

Since Satoru is the only predator-animal-hybrid in your department. At first it seemed to be a hurdle, since the other members of the department wanted to keep their distance. It is a little nerve-wrecking to have a predator so close at all times when one isn’t used to it. But all the worry turned out to be for nothing. Satoru is a delight to work with. He is always eager to help, very gentle with everyone and, most of all, understanding of the difficulties in predator and prey interactions. And a well-built man who can carry all the heavy things is always a plus.

"Okay Boss!" Satoru's tail keeps wagging in excitement and hearts form in his eyes as he watches you leave to your office. He lets out little whimpers at the loss of your touch but makes sure that you don’t hear how pathetic he is being.

The only sound that Satoru can hear is the air conditioning cooling the office air, providing a comfortable work environment. He honestly just wants to go home and play games, but for you, he would willingly spend a few more hours here. And the thought of walking you to the station and talking to you just sweetens the deal even more. His games could wait.

The typing on his keyboard speeds up as he understands what improvements need to be made. The presentation at tomorrow's meeting will be easy to handle for you, if he finishes up quickly.

The clock ticks on as the sky turns darker and the streetlights outside of the office window turn on. Satoru sends the final draft to you and stands up to stretch his aching back from all the hours of sitting. He packs up his bag and carries his cacao brown suit jacket on his arm as he gracefully maneuvers through the halls.

As he stands in front of the door to your office, he takes a deep breath to gather his composure and courage. Satoru looks confident and dashingly handsome as he stands in the hall, but internally he is freaking out. His crush on his superior messes with his head to the point where he stumbled over his words and, in the worst-case scenario, can’t even form a coherent sentence.

The knock on your door goes unanswered, which makes Satoru nervous. You always answer with a small come in or come to open the door yourself, but right now there is no sign of you. He raises his hand to knock on your door again, but he hears a loud thud. Satoru freezes. Are his ears messing with him?

His worry gets the best of him and he reaches for the doorknob. "I'm coming in!“ he lets you know and swings the door open. The first thing he notices is that he smells something strong. It’s your scent, but somehow stronger and more alluring. It makes his ears ring and nose twitch. The second is your face covered in a light sweat. Your hands are harshly gripping the mahogany desk as you breathe unevenly.

All the symptoms only have one obvious cause. You are in heat! This is bad. "F-fuck! W-what should I do?" Satoru asks out loud. He doesn’t know how to help a sheep who has gone into heat.

"Satoru-kun~" you whine out to him as you stand on your wobbly legs with most of your weight being supported by the desk. You look good enough to eat! No, bad Satoru. He needs to do something. "Come here~" you call him over to you.

Satoru is frozen in place. What should he do? If he gets any closer, he will have a hard time helping you. His brain is already malfunctioning. Your pencil skirt is hugging your hips so deliciously and you’re also wearing a turtleneck! It has been on his mind all day.

You walk towards him, but stumble because of the feverish symptoms from your heat. Satoru drops his bag along with his suit jacket and hurries to catch you in his arms. Your sweet scent envelops him completely. There is no way he is making it out of here without developing an even more crazed obsession with you.

Right now, Satoru feels like the prey. You yank him down by his tie and push your body weight onto him for support. "Satoru-kun, can I kiss you?" you manage to ask while looking up at him with a barely functioning mind. Your lips ghost over his.

"Are… are you sure? This is your heat talking. We need to call someone!“ Satoru panics at the thought of doing something he might regret and ruin your relationship with him forever! He can’t let that happen.

You, on the other hand, shut the door behind Satoru and push him up against it. Satoru closes his eyes in surprise and feels terrified that if he sees you up close like this, he will lose his mind.

"Toru-kun~ I like you. This isn’t only the heat. I like you a lot, I promise." you say earnestly.

The breathlessness in your voice eggs Satoru on as he gains a little more courage. "Really?" he asks as he peeks down at you with barely opened eyes. His tail starts to swish back and forth, giving away his true feelings.

"Hmm…" you hum to support your previous statement. "I really like you.“ The confession is muted since you decided to bury your face in Satoru's chest in hopes of smelling his scent better. Not only does his woody scent ground you a little, you can also hear his heartbeat pick up. It’s pounding against his ribcage. Maybe he’s nervous, or maybe he’s about to have a heart attack. Satoru couldn’t tell either.

"Y-you like me?" he’s stunned. He leans closer to you and gently cups your face in one of his hands. "Say it again, please! I need to hear you say it again," he mutters as his body heats up. His face and ears turn red and he uses the back of his left hand to cover the lower part of his face.

He looks at you with such an intense gaze. Your hand lets go of the fabric of his shirt and wanders lower and lower until your fingertips graze his bulge. The sharp inhale makes your ears perk up. "Let me show you how much I like you, Satoru-kun." you coo at him.

His false, somewhat calm demeanor breaks into pieces as he lets out a loud whine. Satoru leans in to capture your soft lips against his own. The spit, tongue and heavy breathing get to his head. He feels dizzy. He feels overwhelmed.

He breaks away from the kiss, allowing the spit to connect your lips to his for a few seconds longer. The dashing smile that follows makes your pussy quiver. Satoru wipes the spit away with the back of his hand and goes to wipe the spit away from your lips using his thumb. But what he didn’t expect was for you to take his thumb into his mouth and suck on it. "Oh~ f-fuck-" he moans out loudly, not expecting your lips to have this kind of effect on him.

His reaction makes you smirk. He’s so cute! You take this opportunity to gently stroke his cock through his slacks. Up and down. Up and down and squeeze lightly.

"Fuck- fuck! Baby! Your hand f-feels soo~ good.“ Satoru throws his head back. His hair falls over his eyes. His prim and proper look exchanged for a disheveled mess.

He pulls at his tie with one hand. Meanwhile you release his thumb from your mouth with a loud 'pop'. "Can you help me, Toru?" you ask with faux innocence in your expression, trying to hide the carnivorous look in your eyes. If only he knew you wanted to swallow him whole.

All Satoru can do is nod dumbly and let you strip him off of his clothes. The belt falls to the floor along with his slacks, boxers and shirt. The tie is repurposed by you, into a make-soft bondage. His hands are tied snuggly behind him as you push him to take a seat on the sofa in your office.

Satoru’s eyes a shining brightly under the fluorescent light. He looks like a puppy more than a wolf, with his ears pressed to his head. On the other hand, he never expected you to be the predator everyone should have been worried about in your department. A real wolf in sheep’s clothing.

"I wanna fuck you soo bad, Toru." you run a nail down his chest, teasing him. "I want to ride you and you can suck on my nipples, okay?" You throw your unbuttoned blouse to the floor, followed by your bra. Satoru’s eyes stay glued to your tits as they jiggle while you try to shimmy your way out of your pencil skirt. His mouth opens involuntarily, letting a small moan escape and hoping you will let him latch on to one. Tempting you to do so.

His reaction coaxes a giggle out of you. He’s so eager. In a way, seducing you without even trying to. "I-I want- no need your tits in my mouth. Please, please, please- I need it so bad!" he sounds delirious. So desperate to bring you any kind of pleasure.

„Like this?“ you ask teasingly as you straddle him and shove his head into your chest.

Satoru hums in appreciation and lets his eyes roll to the back of his head.

"Oh~" you sigh out in pleasure as you start to move your hips against his. Your clit bumping into his bulge repeatedly. "Yeah… such a good boy~" you coo out. „but I need more. I wish you could feel how wet I am." your grinding comes to a halt. "Actually, you can! Silly me. Here, feel.“ you slowly slip his tip in, not giving him a second to adjust to your warmth as you slide him in completely.

"F-fuck! Baby, you shouldn’t have, I‘m gonna- cum!" Satoru cums immediately. His face is bright red from embarrassment. How could this happen! He’s going to die from how embarrassing this is. Now you are going to think he can only pump once and can’t bring you any kind of pleasu- Huh?! Are you giggling? "Baby, I’m so sorry, so sorry! Nnngh- fuuuck. Wait- d-don‘t move so fast, I just came!" he rambled desperately, trying to gain some kind of control over the situation. Are you really going to overstimulate him?

"S'goood. I'm not going to last long! You need to go deeper. I want your babies! You have t- to fill me up good." You stammer out in a horny haze. It’s clear to Satoru that your heat has hit you full force.

You place your feet next to his thighs to get a better angle. This position also makes it easier for you to ride Satoru's cock like a dildo. The mixture of Satoru's cum and your slick is pooling on the sofa, but there is no sign that you are stopping anytime soon.

Both of your moans fill the room along with the wet squelching 'plap' 'plap' 'plap'.

Satoru leans his head back and allows the drool to leak from the corner of his mouth. „Ugh- I'm… baby! Sweetheart, no- not again! Please cum with me, I don’t want to do it alone. Cum, cum, cum!" he lets out a whimper followed by a loud groan that sends shockwaves through your body.

You let your own orgasm wash over you as you continue to grind against him and milk his cock of every drop. You take the opportunity to lick the drool off from the corner of his mouth that had already wandered down to his sharp jaw.

"F-fuck baby.“ he groans seductively. "You wanna go to my place so I can fuck you good? Don’t wanna let my girl do all the work, especially since she wants my babies soo bad." he teases you for your earlier comment.

"Only of you wear your glasses." you tease back with a smile smirk on your face.

"Only if I get to play with your little horns." he retorts as you loosen the tie, freeing his hands. They quickly find their way to your waist and he envelops your lips in a kiss. One of his hands reaches for your horns as he lightly races them and in turn makes you shiver from how sensitive they are.

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has an unexpected reunion while on a mission.

Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: light fluff, slight angst, mention of gun

Words: 4703

Natasha sits at a small outdoor table, blending effortlessly with the weekend crowd outside a nondescript café. Dressed casually in a simple jacket, jeans, and sunglasses, she appears to be just another city dweller enjoying a quiet morning coffee.

Beneath the surface, however, her sharp eyes remain focused on the apartment building across the street, subtly monitoring every individual entering or leaving. 

The team had received a tip suggesting that one of the building’s occupants might have ties to the city’s criminal underworld and could possess some information about an upcoming weapons deal they were investigating.

Natasha’s mission is to uncover more, though the lead is vague. They only know that the target supposedly resides in this area, leaving Natasha with little to do but wait and watch for anything suspicious.

Maintaining her undercover guise, Natasha casually lifts her coffee cup to her lips. Just as the rim touches her mouth, she feels a gentle nudge against her leg. 

Startled, she frowns slightly and glances under the table to investigate.

Wide, familiar yellow eyes stare back at her, unblinking.

For a second, Natasha considers the possibility that it’s just a coincidence. 

There must be dozens of black cats in the city, but when her gaze shifts to the sleek gold tag hanging from the cat’s collar, she reads the ironic name engraved on it.

Widow meows, placing her paw on Natasha’s leg and nudging her again, this time with more insistence, as if greeting an old friend.

Natasha can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips.

“Hey, it’s been a while,” she murmurs, lifting Widow onto her lap. She gently scratches behind the cat’s ears, feeling the soft, familiar fur beneath her fingers. 

“Did she lose you again?” Natasha asks the cat with a slight chuckle.

Before Natasha can react, a soft, amused huff appears near her ear, followed by a low voice.

“Is that really how you think of me?”

Natasha starts slightly, momentarily caught off guard by the fact that she hadn’t sensed your approach. She turns her head to find you standing beside her with an amused smirk, your eyes gleaming with playful mischief.

You reach out and gently push the bridge of her sunglasses up, fully covering her eyes. 

“Does this disguise really fool anyone?” you tease.

Natasha clears her throat, recovering her composure quickly, though she still feels a slight heat on her face caused by your close proximity.

“It works well enough,” she replies smoothly as you move to the other side of the table.

You chuckle, casually resting your hands on the back of the empty chair across from her, raising a brow in question.

“Mind if we join you?” you ask, your voice carrying that familiar blend of ease and flirtation.

Natasha hesitates, her eyes flicking toward the apartment building she’s been watching all morning. She knows she should stay focused on the mission, but the unexpected reunion with you and the cat resting in her lap has thrown her off balance. 

Noticing her hesitation, you lean forward, your voice dropping to a whisper. 

“You know,” you say, glancing around dramatically before locking eyes with her, “it’s a lot less suspicious if you’re sitting with someone.”

Your knowing grin makes Natasha sigh, but still, the corners of her mouth twitch upwards in amusement. She gives a small nod toward the empty chair across from her.

“Alright,” she concedes. “But Widow stays with me.”

The black cat meows as if in agreement, her body brushing more snugly against her lap.

You grin wider, pleased at her acceptance, and pull out the chair to settle in across from her, the faintest glint of fondness softening your gaze at the two of them.

“I wouldn't dare argue with either of you.”

As Widow curls up, her purring reverberates softly in Natasha’s lap as she strokes the cat’s fur. 

After a long morning of heightened vigilance, this unexpected visit brings a strange but welcome sense of calm. The tension in her body unravels as she savors this brief moment of normalcy, an unusual pause in her otherwise relentless routine. 

“So,” you begin, your voice pulling her back from the quiet comfort of the moment, “who are you watching?”

Natasha’s gaze sharpens, but she keeps her tone casual, taking a sip of her coffee before responding, “Who says I’m watching anyone? I’m just here for the coffee.”

You raise a brow, your smile growing. 

“Right. Because the Black Widow spends her weekends blending in with civilians, sipping coffee, and definitely not on a mission.”

“Exactly,” Natasha replies smoothly with a smirk.

Releasing an exaggerated sigh, your expression turns mockingly disappointed as you remark.

“And here I was, thinking you sought me out specifically.” 

Widow lifts her head at your words, releasing a chastising cry in offense. 

“Sorry,” you amend, glancing at the cat with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “I mean, us.” 

Natasha chuckles at the exchange, allowing herself to indulge in the banter to steer the conversation away from her mission. 

“Isn’t it more likely the other way around? After all, you approached me first,” she counters with a teasing smirk. 

You scoff playfully. “Ah, I see—someone’s pretty confident in herself.”

Raising a brow, Natasha gestures pointedly to the cat nestled comfortably in her lap. 

“I’m just basing it on facts. Why else would you name your cat after me?” 

You narrow your eyes, a playful glint returning.

“Who says she’s named after you?” 

Natasha’s smirk widens as she leans back, clearly enjoying the upper hand. 

“You’re not denying it.”

“And I’m not admitting it either,” you shoot back, leaning forward with a grin, resting your chin on your hand as you meet her eyes.

“It’s alright,” Natasha teases with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve had my fair share of admirers. There’s no shame in being a fan.” 

With an amused scoff, you gesture toward the apartment building as you reply with a sarcastic tone.

“Yes, you’ve caught me. My apartment is filled with Black Widow merch,” you smirk at her, adopting a playfully serious expression.

Your words make Natasha pause in her playful banter, her brows knitting slightly at the casual mention of your home. She glances briefly at the building she’s been watching, remembering the intel she received.

“You live here?” she asks, her tone more curious than accusatory.

Widow raises her head at her and lets out another indignant meow, clearly displeased by the oversight.

Natasha pets the cat’s head gently, an apology in her touch. 

“Sorry,” she corrects, “the two of you live here?” 

“Yep, third floor,” you answer. “We were just on our way back when Widow spotted you.”

Widow meows again, almost as if confirming the information, nuzzling Natasha’s hand affectionately. 

At the new information, Natasha taps her fingers lightly on the tabletop, humming in thought. She wonders if the intel the team received might have been about you—or perhaps someone from your past. 

Before she can delve deeper into the idea, your hand slips over hers, gently stopping the movement.

“I’m not the one you’re looking for,” you say, your voice serious enough to catch her attention. 

There’s a knowing look in your eyes that Natasha recognizes but can’t fully understand. Yet, instinctively, she feels she can trust you—at least for now.

Natasha’s gaze drops to where your hand covers hers, feeling the warmth of your touch seep through her skin. The contact sends a familiar stirring through her, the same unexpected feeling that often rises whenever you’re near. 

She’s still not sure whether to welcome it or resist it.

Natasha looks back into your eyes, her curiosity piqued, ready to probe deeper with questions.

But before she can speak, you gently turn her hand over in yours, your fingers tracing light, random patterns across her palm.

“At your ten,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s pulse quickens, both from the delicate sensation of your touch and the subtle way you’ve pointed out something she missed.

Despite the distracting warmth radiating from your fingers, she discreetly shifts her gaze in the direction you indicated.

Sure enough, a man walks toward the apartment building, his posture tense, clad in a plain jacket and a cap pulled low over his face, clearly trying to avoid attention.

Widow’s body tenses in her lap and her ears flatten against her head as she lets out a low hiss in his direction.

Natasha attempts to soothe the cat’s nerves with gentle strokes.

“He moved in down the hall a few weeks ago,” you continue casually, not looking up, still focused on tracing her palm. “Seems normal enough, but I’ve recognized his type before.”

After calming Widow to the point where her tail is no longer lashing, Natasha’s eyes return to you.

“You’ve been watching him?”

With a faint sigh of exasperation, you reply, “Didn’t have much of a choice. He’s taken an…unwelcome interest in me lately.”

Curious, Natasha glances back at the man, her eyes narrowing as she observes him. As if sensing her attention, he pauses mid-step, his gaze locking onto your table—specifically, onto you.

His body language shifts, stiffening with barely concealed interest and tension.

Before Natasha can react, your fingers slowly and deliberately intertwine with hers. With a playful smirk, you lift her hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against her skin.

Natasha snaps her attention back to you, eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected gesture.

"Maybe that'll finally give him a hint," you remark nonchalantly, lowering your entwined hands back to the table as though the intimate moment were perfectly ordinary. 

Natasha blinks, momentarily thrown by the shift in dynamic.

A now familiar warmth rises in her cheeks, and she's grateful her sunglasses hide the flustered look creeping across her face.

Natasha clears her throat softly after a beat, regaining her composure. Glancing subtly in the man's direction, she's relieved to have a reason not to meet your gaze.

He’s no longer standing there—storming away instead, his frustration and confusion apparent in the hurried way he vanishes into the building.

Before Natasha can fully process everything that just happened, Widow hops onto the table. Her little paws rest on top of your joined hands as if wanting to be part of the moment. 

That touch settles her as she returns to her previous cool demeanor.

“You were using me,” Natasha accuses, her voice carrying a mix of mock indignation and dry amusement.

You grin, utterly unfazed. 

“And in return, I gave you valuable intel to move your little operation along.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow playfully with a slight huff. 

“You could’ve just told me from the start.”

Your smirk widens, your eyes gleaming with mischief. 

“But where’s the fun in that?”

Natasha shakes her head, her lips twitching upward in a reluctant smile. Despite your methods and actions, you did give her a new lead on her mission. 

Though, now she has to handle this new situation—the tension between you two.

Even though the man is gone, you haven’t released her hand, and she doesn’t pull away either. 

Something else lingers in the air between you, something unspoken but undeniable. 

Widow nudges her head against your hands as if offering her approval of the unfolding moment. 

Natasha’s gaze drifts to the cat before her eyes return to you, her expression softening.

“You two never came by the Compound after that night,” Natasha comments softly, her tone casual but tinged with a hint of disappointment.

You shrug lightly and reply with a sly grin, “I’m sure Stark didn’t appreciate how easily I bypassed his security system.”

Natasha chuckles lightly at the memory. 

“Telling him about that was the best part. You should’ve seen his face.”

You let out a soft laugh, the moment lingering in comfortable silence.

Eventually, you slowly release her hand, your fingers trailing against hers before pulling away completely. 

Standing up, you adjust your jacket with casual ease. 

“Well, now that you know where we live,” you say, nodding toward the building, “feel free to drop by whenever you’re not too busy saving the world.”

You gesture to the little cat, who’s now swatting lightly at Natasha’s coffee cup in a playful manner, adding, “I’m sure Widow wouldn’t mind your company.”

Natasha’s eyes twinkle with amusement, catching the cup before it could fall and giving the cat a tiny scratch on her head before returning her attention to you.

“Just her?” Natasha raises a brow, the question hanging between you with playful intent.

You don’t answer directly, but the slight smile on your face says enough. 

“Good luck with your mission, Miss Black Widow,” you say softly, your tone shifting to something more sincere before turning toward the apartment building. 

Widow gives her a soft meow goodbye before hopping off the table and climbing into your arms.

Natasha watches you walk away, her gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. Eventually, her mind returns to the mission but not without a fleeting thought of you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha leans against the rooftop's edge, her eyes fixed on the target’s apartment in the building across her. The cool night air brushes against her face, but her focus remains sharp. 

You were right. The man you pointed out is involved with one of the organizations suspected of orchestrating a major weapons deal. His hidden familial ties and shady movements had confirmed it.

After bugging his phone and tracking his movements for days, Natasha discovered that tonight would be crucial—a drop-off containing the specs for some of the weapons in the deal and where they came from. 

She watches patiently as the man opens his door to receive a small package from an unknown figure.

The exchange is brief, and once the door shuts, the man places the package carelessly on his counter.

As Natasha considers a plan to obtain the package, something causes the man to tense, and he cautiously turns back toward the door. 

Her hand instinctively moves toward her own weapon, prepared to intervene when she spots him pull a gun, keeping it hidden behind his back as he cracks the door open again.

The man’s posture relaxes as he realizes who’s on the other side of the door, and he hides his weapon in the back of his waistband.

Natasha observes as his overly confident bravado takes over, and it becomes clear he’s trying to impress someone. 

Natasha’s view of the visitor is blocked, but judging by the man’s lowered guard, she assumes this person doesn’t pose an immediate threat. 

Whoever they are, though, they seem to hold some influence over him.

After a brief conversation that results in the man turning off the lights and slipping out of the apartment, led by the unseen visitor, Natasha seizes the opportunity to retrieve the package before he returns.

With practiced precision, she shoots her grappling hook across the gap between the buildings and swings silently onto the balcony outside the man’s apartment. Carefully picking the lock on the window, she slips inside without making a sound. 

But as she steps into the room, she quickly realizes something is wrong. 

The small package, which had been resting on the counter moments ago, is now gone. 

Natasha scans the area, her eyes darting around the room. 

Had it fallen somewhere?

A faint sound reaches her ears as Natasha walks around the room—movement just behind her.

She whirls around, gun raised, ready to face whatever threat is lurking in the shadows.

But the only thing she’s met with is darkness.

Her eyes narrow as her instincts scream that something is off. She’s sure she heard something.

She focuses on the shadows for a moment longer when a pair of familiar yellow eyes suddenly blink open, glowing softly in the dark. 

Natasha lowers her weapon, momentarily caught off guard by the sight.

Widow emerges from the darkness, its head tilted curiously as she approaches Natasha. The corner of the small package is clutched tightly in her mouth.

Natasha lets out an incredulous huff. 

“Really?” she mutters in disbelief as she kneels and waves the cat closer.

Widow trots over and jumps into Natasha’s arms without hesitation, the package still firmly between her teeth. 

Standing up, Natasha tries to pry the package from the cat’s mouth gently, but each time she reaches for it, Widow swats at her hand and shifts her head, making it impossible to grab.

“You’re not serious,” Natasha sighs, exasperated. 

But Widow only stares up at her with those wide, innocent eyes, completely unfazed by the situation.

Before Natasha can try again, she hears footsteps approaching from the hallway. 

Instantly, she reacts, slipping out of the window with Widow still in her arms, her movements quick and silent. She carefully closes the window behind her, ensuring everything looks untouched, before flattening herself against the outside wall.

The light flickers on inside the apartment, and Natasha hears voices. She listens closely, picking up snippets of conversation.

“Thanks again, I don’t know what I would have done without your help,” your voice floats through the window, laced with exaggerated helplessness.

It’s not like your usual demeanor and tone. You were clearly playing a part. 

“Anytime,” the man responds, his tone gruff, but Natasha can tell he’s trying too hard to sound confident. “You know, if it doesn’t work out with—” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I really have to go!” you interrupt quickly, your voice fading as you move toward the door. “Have a good night!” 

Natasha hears the door close with a soft click, signaling your exit. She waits a moment longer before making her own move, descending silently into the nearby alley below.

Landing with ease, she looks down at Widow, still cradled in her arms.

The cat is now lazily gnawing on the corner of the package, completely unbothered by the chaos of the situation. 

Her claws grip the package tightly, almost possessively.

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief, her lips curving into a small, amused smile despite herself. 

“You two have a lot of explaining to do,” she mutters, glancing at the apartment building.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The moment you open the door, your eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Natasha standing there.

“A bit late for a visit, don’t you think?” you tease with a playful grin, leaning casually against the door frame, trying to mask your surprise.

But Natasha doesn’t return your smile. 

Instead, she tilts her head slightly, one brow arched with an unimpressed expression and pulls her jacket open just enough to reveal the black cat nestled comfortably in her arms. 

Widow is still clinging stubbornly to the small package in her claws. 

Your grin falters immediately, your gaze dropping from Natasha’s face to Widow and the damning evidence she’s holding. 

Realization hits you like a wave, and your once-confident smile dissolves into a look of sheepish acknowledgment.

“Oh,” you murmur, awkwardness settling in as you glance between Natasha's unimpressed stare and Widow's innocent eyes.

“Well,” you sigh, stepping aside to open the door wider, “you might as well come in.”

Natasha steps past you, her eyes sweeping the room in quiet observation. 

Your apartment is neat, save for the scattered cat toys littering the room. Natasha takes it all in quietly, her gaze eventually falling back on you—specifically, your night attire. 

You’re wearing a black oversized t-shirt and shorts, casual and comfortable, but it’s the symbol on the front of the shirt that grabs her attention.

“Nice shirt,” she comments, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

You glance down and immediately realize what she’s referring to—the iconic red hourglass symbol of the Black Widow emblazoned across your chest. Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms defensively over the logo. 

“This doesn’t prove anything,” you remark. “I’ve got shirts with the other Avengers symbols too.”

“Sure you do,” Natasha teases, clearly enjoying the moment before her attention shifts to the cat in her arms. She nods toward Widow, who’s still gripping the package as if it were a prized possession. 

“How do you get her to let go of things?” 

A proud grin spreads across your face at the cat’s actions.

Walking to the kitchen, you rummage through a cabinet, pulling out a small tube of cat treats before returning to Natasha’s side.

Tearing it open, you hand it to her.

Widow’s sharp yellow eyes instantly zero in on the treat. Natasha, intrigued, waves it in front of the stubborn cat. 

“How about a little trade?” she offers. 

The cat’s eyes follow the snack in contemplation. Slowly but surely, her grip on the package loosens, her claws retracting as she reaches a paw toward the treat.

Seeing the opportunity, Natasha quickly snatches the package and shakes out its contents—a USB drive, which she tucks into her jacket.

When Natasha still has not promptly given her reward, Widow yowls in protest, having already upheld her end of the deal.

Natasha huffs lightly at the exaggerated behavior but relents and offers the treat to the eager cat, who devours it with delicate bites.

“I guess that means mission accomplished,” you quip, attempting to bring some levity back into the room. 

But Natasha doesn’t laugh. She glances up at you, her expression shifting as her playful demeanor fades. 

“You said you didn’t do this kind of thing anymore,” she says, her voice edged with accusation. 

You shrug, hands raised in defense.

“Technically, I didn’t,” you reply, though Natasha’s piercing stare cuts through your weak deflection.  

With a tired sigh, you rub the back of your neck before continuing, "Remember that post I asked you to take down?"

Natasha nods slightly, her eyes never leaving yours, silently urging you to continue.

“Well, some of my old associates saw it before you did. And let’s just say…we didn’t part ways on the best of terms.”

Natasha places the finished snack on the table, her fingers moving to absently scratch behind Widow’s ears as she processes the situation. Her eyes narrow, her tone shifting to something more serious as concern creeps into her voice.

“So, they’re forcing you to steal for them?”

You lean back against the counter, exhaling a heavy breath.

“They have leverage,” you reveal cryptically. “If I don’t cooperate...things get complicated.”

Her fingers pause in Widow’s fur, her expression hardening as the situation sinks in. 

“Then why help me? Wouldn’t that put you at risk?”

You manage a wry smile.

“If the Avengers get involved, they can’t hold it against me, right?”

You gesture toward her, adding teasingly, “I mean, what can one simple thief do against Earth’s mightiest heroes?”

Natasha shakes her head, frustration and disbelief mixing in her features.

“That doesn’t guarantee they’ll leave you alone.”

“And like I told you before,” you say, voice soft but resolute, “let me handle it. You’ve played your part. Now go be a hero to someone else.”

Natasha huffs, more in disbelief than anger.

“So you used me. Again.”

Her tone has no malice, but the sting of truth lingers.

You step closer and reach out to adjust the collar of her jacket. Your fingers brush her skin, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“Like I said,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, “you shouldn’t get involved with someone like me.”

Widow purrs contentedly in the stillness, oblivious to the tension in the room, nuzzling against Natasha’s hand affectionately.

Natasha’s gaze softens slightly at the sight of the cat—remembering what you once said about Widow being a good judge of character. 

If this little creature, with all her instincts, trusts someone with a past like hers, then surely there must be a similar reason she chooses to be with you.

When Natasha looks up, her eyes lock onto yours, steady and unwavering.

“What if I want to be?” she asks quietly, her voice laced with something far more than just concern.

Your breath catches, the vulnerability in her words taking you by surprise. You quickly school your expression, forcing neutrality even as your heart pounds in your chest.

Natasha steps closer, the heat of her body brushing against yours as close as she can, her gaze piercing.

“Do you want me to be?” she asks softly, the challenge clear in her tone.

For a moment, you meet her gaze, steady and unrelenting, but your eyes betray you. They flicker, just briefly, to her lips.

Natasha catches it. Her lips part slightly, and the air between you thickens with tension, both of you standing on the precipice of something neither can quite name.

But you break first.

You step back, clearing your throat as if that could dispel the weight of what just passed between you.

“As tempting as that is,” you say, your voice thick with the emotions you’re trying so hard to suppress, “I can’t let anyone else get caught up in this.”

Natasha doesn’t move, her eyes searching yours for more explanation.

However, you reach for Widow instead, gently lifting the cat from her arms, using the small creature as a shield between you.

“This one’s already enough trouble,” you joke weakly.

Natasha’s gaze lingers, watching you with a mix of exasperation and something deeper—something you refuse to name. She tilts her head, her voice soft.

“You know my job is to help people, right?”

You swallow hard, the playful smirk returning, though it feels hollow.

“And I’ll let you know if I ever need it.”

Natasha narrows her gaze, unconvinced. “Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you offer a small concession. 

“Fine. Check in whenever. You’ve got my number, remember? And I’ll even send you cute pictures of Widow often to keep you from worrying too much.” 

Widow chooses that moment to let out a soft meow, raising her paws beside her face as if on cue.

Natasha’s stern expression falters, a tiny smile tugging at her lips at the sight. But even as she shakes her head in resignation, the tension between you both lingers, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

With a small sigh, Natasha accepts your decision and steps toward the door. As she reaches for the handle, she pauses, her hand hovering there momentarily before turning to look at you again.

“If you ever decide that you don’t have to handle everything on your own,” she says softly, “you know where to find me.” 

You nod, your mask of indifference slipping back into place.

“You’d be the first one I’ll call,” you promise playfully.

Natasha lingers for a moment longer, her eyes searching yours for something that never comes. She finally opens the door and steps through, pausing briefly before turning back to you.

“Take care of yourself. Both of you,” she whispers before leaving, the door clicking softly behind her. 

The room feels emptier in her absence, the warmth of her presence fading.

Widow stirs in your arms, hopping onto the counter and letting out a soft, sad sound as if sensing the change in the air.

You lean heavily against the counter, exhaling a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Natasha's words replay in your mind, sinking deeper into your heart than you will admit. 

But as always, you push it aside. There’s no room for doubt, no space for second-guessing—not in your world.

Uncurling your fist, the USB falls from your hand—swapped from Natasha’s pocket with another containing misleading data. 

Widow trots over to the item on the counter, nudging it with her paw before turning to you, letting out a sharp meow, almost as if scolding you.

“I know,” you sigh, guilt settling in as you scoop her back into your arms.

You stroke her gently, your hand brushing over a slightly raised patch of fur. The reminder of what's beneath fills you with concern for the little feline and your position.

Widow meows again, tilting her head curiously, oblivious to your worry. You force a reassuring smile, though it never quite reaches your eyes.

As your gaze drifts toward the window, your expression falters. You watch Natasha’s silhouette disappear into the shadows, a heavy sigh escaping your lips.

“She really shouldn’t get involved with someone like me,” you whisper sadly, giving Widow one last scratch behind the ears before turning away.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n: I have decided to make this into a series. It's probably not going to be like my other one with extensive plotlines and such (I don't think). But maybe leaning more toward light-hearted adventures and interactions between the two (and Widow). Thanks again for reading! I hope you'll enjoy this series too!

[itneverendshere]

how would the cameron family react to rafe dating a pogue

found a girl my parents love - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) Ps: ward's not a monster in this, just an asshole sometimes, bc my boy rafe deserves a better father figure. also, didn’t know if this request was for this couple but i felt like it fitted them perfectly so here we are again 🫶🏻🤗

Rafe selfishly wanted to keep you a secret for as long as he could. 

Not because he was ashamed of you—not even close. You were his, the only person who actually got him. That part of him he never let anyone see, not his family, not his boys.

It was complicated, though, and his family didn't do "complicated" well. Especially not with a pogue. His dad would flip if he knew he was dating someone he hadn’t been personally introduced to before.

The bartender from the club, of all people. The one they’d see serving drinks to them all summer, like you didn’t exist outside those moments. That was the thing though, you did exist, more than anyone he’d ever known. You were real. That’s why he wanted to keep it just for himself. It was his one thing that no one else could touch, could ruin. Topper knew, sure, but he wasn’t going to run his mouth to Sarah after she broke his heart.

So yeah, he held on to it, kept you away from the world that would tear it down before it even had a chance to really breathe. Until Weezie stumbled into your date at the ice cream shop.

He remembered the way his heart stopped when he saw her walk in. Of all places. Of all the people. She looked at him with wide brown eyes, then at you, and then back to him like she’d just walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to see. 

And honestly? She did.

“What the hell are you doing here, Weeze?” he snapped, more out of panic than anger.

"Uh? Getting ice cream?" Her face lit up, a huge grin stretching across her cheeks. “What are you doing here? And with her?” She looked at you, her excitement bubbling over before Rafe could get a word in. “Oh my God, this is so cool! You’re dating her? Like, for real?”

You smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension rolling off him. He looked like he was seconds away from shitting himself. He could’ve killed Weezie right then and there. But instead, he just sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, well… don’t tell anyone, alright?”

“Are you kidding?” Weezie practically bounced. “I won’t say a word. Scout’s honor.” She shot you a smile before turning to leave. “But like, this is so cool.”

He scowled at her, “Stop being creepy.”

You slapped his chest, scolding him “Be nice.”

“Oh, I like her!”

She kept her word. For a little while, at least.

A few weeks later, they were all sitting around the dinner table—Ward, Sarah, Rafe, and Weezie. Rose was out doing whatever the fuck she did with her friends. Everything was going fine until Weezie, mid-conversation about nothing important, let it slip.

“I saw Rafe and his girlfriend the other day,” she said, just like it was no big deal.

Girlfriend.

Rafe froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Sarah looked like she’d just been smacked in the face.

“Girlfriend?” Sarah’s voice went up an octave. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

He shot Weezie a look that could shove her ten feet under, but it was too late. She slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing her mistake.

Ward raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “You got something to share with the family, son?”

Rafe cleared his throat, putting his fork down, already working up a sweat. He knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this one. And honestly?

Maybe it was time to stop hiding. He glanced at Sarah, who still looked at him like he was from outer space, then at his dad. He’d always given him shit about girls, all these big speeches about how none of them were ever worth bringing home unless he was serious. 

Well, he was serious.

“Yeah,” Rafe muttered, meeting his dad’s eyes. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Who?”

“She’s a pogue!”

Rafe closed his eyes, sighing as Weezie blurted the most important piece of information out. She really just dropped the biggest bomb in the most casual way possible. His dad’s expression didn’t change much, but Sarah? She was fully in shock, her jaw practically hitting the table.

“A Pogue?” Sarah repeated, like she couldn’t believe the words even existed in the same sentence as Rafe. “Are you serious? In this lifetime?”

He shot her a glare. “Yeah, a Pogue. What, is that some kind of crime?”

“What?” She shrieked, “You gave me so much shit when I dated John B!”

He clenched his jaw, his patience hanging by a thread. Of course she was going to bring up John B. She couldn’t let anything go. “That was different,” he snapped.

Sarah scoffed, folding her arms “Different? How exactly?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Because John B’s a dirtbag who had you sneaking around doing God knows what. This is—” he stopped himself, trying to find the right words. “This is different, okay? She’s not like him.”

“So, it’s okay when you date a Pogue? Got it.”

“To be fair,” Weezie chimed in, “John B smelled like shit.”

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips, even though the last thing he wanted to do was encourage her. Sarah shot Weezie a death glare, clearly not amused.

“Language,” Ward warned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I have to tell you girls? No swearing at the table.”

The room fell silent, everyone looking at Rafe like they were waiting for him to say something. His dad didn’t even look mad—if anything, he looked weirdly intrigued.

“So,” Ward said slowly, his gaze locking onto Rafe’s. “You’re serious about her then? Serious enough for me to meet her?”

Rafe swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

“Alright. Let’s make that happen then.”

He blinked, completely thrown off. “What?”

Ward’s response was calm, almost too calm. “If you’re serious about this girl, then it’s time I meet her.”

Rafe just stared at him, unsure if he’d heard that right. His dad wasn’t angry? Was he impressed? Or was this some kind of setup?

“You... wanna meet her?” he repeated, like he needed the words to make sense.

His dad’s expression wasn’t the usual stone wall of judgment. “I’ve always said if it’s not serious, don’t bother bringing her around. You’re saying she’s important to you, right?”

“Uh, yeah…” Rafe’s voice trailed off, still half-expecting this to somehow turn into a lecture or some Ward Cameron test. “She is.”

He nodded, like he was already planning it. “Alright then, set it up. I’ll meet her.”

He couldn’t tell if this was a win or if he’d just walked into something he wasn’t prepared for. His whole plan was to avoid this exact conversation. He looked across the table, expecting Sarah to be just as blindsided as he was, but she was still stuck on one detail.

“You’re dating a Pogue,” she muttered, shaking her head like she couldn’t get past that fact. “I just… wow.”

Rafe shot her a glare. “Get over it.”

Weezie, always the little instigator, grinned. “She was cool.”

“Okay, so… when do I get to meet her?” Sarah’s brown eyes widened with curiosity. “Is she cute? What’s she like?”

This wasn’t how he thought the night was going to go at all. 

An hour later, he was lying in bed, staring at his phone, his mind still spinning from dinner. He pulled up your contact, hesitating for a second before hitting the FaceTime button. The screen flashed for a moment, and then there you were, all cozy in your own bed, unaware of what was about to hit.

“Hi baby,” you chirped, clearly happy to see him, “What’s up? You look stressed.”

Rafe rubbed his face, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, well, uh—something happened at dinner tonight.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion, tilting the phone closer to you. “What? Did Sarah say something dumb again?”

“Nah, worse,” he muttered. “Weezie... Weezie kinda let it slip. About us.”

Your eyes widened immediately. “Wait, what? She told them?!”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a low chuckle at the memory of the whole dinner spiraling out of control. “Just dropped it casually like it was no big deal. Sarah freaked out, and my dad—" He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “He wants to meet you.”

For a second, you didn’t say anything. You just blinked, processing his words. 

“Wait... Ward Cameron wants to meet me? As in, your dad?”

“Yeah,” He mumbled, almost sheepishly. “He’s all, ‘If you’re serious, I should meet her,’ or some shit. Like it’s no big deal.”

You sat up straight, your heart racing. “Rafe, that is a big deal! What the hell do you mean he wants to meet me?!” Your voice rose, panic starting to take over. “Oh my God, I didn’t even think about having to meet your dad. I figured we’d just— I don’t know—figure it out later!”

Rafe winced, knowing this would freak you out. He tried to keep his voice calm, even though he wasn’t exactly calm himself. “Baby, it’s not like tomorrow or anything. We can plan it out.”

But you were already spiraling. “Your dad’s gonna take one look at me— What if he hates me? What if he tells you I’m not worth it, and then—” you paused, your voice breaking slightly, “What if you start to believe him?”

His stomach clenched at your words. He sat up, the phone now held closer to his face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. What are you even talking about?”

You bit your lip, your thoughts running wild. “I mean... what if he convinces you that I’m not good enough? What if you start seeing me differently? You know how your dad is—he could talk you out of this, talk you out of us.”

Rafe shook his head, almost angry that you’d even think that way. “Are you serious right now? No way in hell is that happening. I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks. You’re the one I’m with because I want to be with you.”

You sighed, your nerves still rattled. “But what if he tries to get in your head? You always talk about how much pressure he puts on you. What if he—”

He cut you off, his voice firm, assertive. “Look, I’m serious about you. I told him that tonight. It doesn’t matter what he says, because you’re the one I love. No one’s changing my mind about that. Not even Ward fucking Cameron.” His eyes softened a little. “I already met your sister. This is just the next step, yeah? It’s us. We’re solid.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He hated this—hated that the idea of meeting his dad was making you feel like this, but he couldn’t blame you. Ward was intimidating even on his best days, and this was not going to be one of those days.

“You’re not gonna throw up,” he said, trying to calm you down, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

You shook your head, running a hand through your bed hair. “What if I say something dumb? What if I screw up, and he hates me, and then everything goes downhill? I’m not, like... your people. You know that.”

His jaw clenched, hating the way you thought of yourself like that. “Don’t say that,” he scolded, “You’re exactly my people. You’re my person.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No ‘buts.’” He cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Listen to me. My dad’s opinion doesn’t change anything. He’s not gonna make me see you any differently. You’re still gonna be the same girl I’m crazy about, no matter what he says or doesn’t say. Got it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to believe him. “It’s just—I don’t know, Rafe. I don’t fit into that world, and what if he sees that right away?”

He hated that you felt this way, hated that his dad had this kind of power hanging over the two of you. “You don’t need to fit into his world, okay? You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Your lips quivered, and for a second, he thought you might start crying. He could feel the panic rolling off of you through the phone, and it hit him hard—he hadn’t realized just how terrified you were of this.

“What if he really doesn’t think I’m good enough for you?” You whispered, almost like you were scared to say it out loud.

Rafe’s heart clenched, and without thinking, he shot up out of bed, pacing his room like he needed to burn off the frustration

“You’re more than good enough for me.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away for a second like you were trying to compose yourself.

“I just don’t want him to—I don’t know? To make you feel like you have to choose between me and your family.”

He stopped pacing, his grip tightening on the phone. “If it ever came to that? I’d choose you. Every fucking time.”

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “Rafe—”

“I mean it,” he said, cutting you off again. “I’m not letting my dad, or anyone else, get in the way. I don’t care if he’s Ward Cameron or the president of the United States. He’s not gonna run my life, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you. And nothing my dad says or thinks is gonna change that. Ever.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall over. Not because you were scared anymore, but because of him. Because of how much he cared. How much he loved you, even when you were spiraling.

He was staring at the screen, concern written all over his face, brows furrowing, "Wait, are you crying?" His voice softened, like he wasn’t sure how to handle you like this, but he knew he wanted to. He needed to.

You quickly rubbed at your eyes, laughing to try and cover up the tears, "No, no, I just— got something in my eye." Your laugh was shaky, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

He didn’t say anything for a second, just watched you with that loving look of his that made you want to bawl your eyes out even harder. He saw right through you. He always did.

“You know,” he finally said, “You don’t have to worry about all that shit. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s when you almost lost it. Because wow. No one had ever said something like that to you before, not until him. Never like that, like he really meant it, like you were the most important thing in his world.

You sniffed, trying to laugh it off again, but it just came out all soft and broken. “I’m just—” you paused, not even sure how to explain how you were feeling, “I’m not used to this. Like, you... caring this much. Loving me like this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he leaned a little closer to the screen, “I’m not stopping.”

“I know. I love you too.”

It was real now.

Meeting the Camerons wasn’t something you could avoid anymore, but at least you knew you had Rafe, a hundred percent.

“You still freaking out?” he asked, though his tone was lighter, like he knew the answer.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’ll get over it.”

“Good,” he said, his smirk returning. “Because I kinda need you around.”

“Kinda?”

He grinned, dimples framing his face, “Okay, a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Rafe hadn’t said a word the entire drive, which was already freaking you out more than you wanted to admit. His knuckles were white, tight around the steering wheel. His jaw was locked, teeth grinding together and you’d caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye at least three times in the past minute.

Your heart was hammering, stomach in knots, and you were starting to wonder if you might actually throw up by the time you got to Tannyhill.

“Baby, seriously, if we crash into a tree ‘cause you’re having a silent meltdown over there, that’s not gonna help either of us.”

He blinked, finally loosening his grip on the wheel. “Sorry. I’m just—fuck, I don’t know.”

You tried to smile, but it felt weak. “Yeah, me too. I feel like I’m walking into some kind of corporate job interview I didn’t apply for.”

Rafe snorted. “Yeah, except the CEO’s a control freak and the company’s, I don’t know, cursed or something.”

That made you laugh, a short, nervous laugh, but still. You appreciated the attempt at humor, even if the nerves in your stomach weren’t going anywhere.

“So, uh... game plan?” you asked, half-joking, but mostly serious. “Am I supposed to shake his hand? Call him Mr. Cameron? Or is it more of a ‘hey, what’s up, Ward?’ situation?”

Rafe finally cracked a grin, shaking his head. “God, I don’t know. Don’t call him Ward; that might send him into some power trip. But definitely don’t call him Mr. Cameron either, ‘cause that’ll just make it weird.”

“Great, so I’ll just go with ‘Hi’ and hope I don’t trip over my own feet.”

“Perfect,” Rafe deadpanned, glancing over at you, “Just be yourself. He’s not as bad as you think. Mostly.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Mostly?”

Rafe’s lips pressed together. "He's not gonna throw you out or anything. And if he does, we’re leaving together. But Sarah...”

“Sarah,” you groaned, leaning your head back against the seat. You’d barely met Sarah, and from what you could tell, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about Rafe’s choice in girlfriends.

“Just don’t let her get to you,” Rafe muttered, his hand reaching for yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “She’s just mad because I used to make John B’s life a living hell.”

“Define hell.”

Rafe smirked, his fingers still interlaced with yours. "I mean, I threw him off a boat once," he said casually, like that wasn’t one of the most insane things you’d ever heard.

You blinked. “You what?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road, like it was no big deal. “He was running his mouth about me."

You stared at him in disbelief, “And you think I’m the one who needs to be worried?”

He laughed, finally loosening up a little, “Relax, baby. I’m not throwing you off anything.”

“So she’s not mad about me? She’s just mad about the double standard?”

“Yeah.”

That made it a little easier to breathe.

The silence settled back in for a moment as you pulled up to Tannyhill. The sight of the massive estate took your breath away. You couldn’t help but feel like you were entering a completely different world now that you were here—a world that wasn’t exactly built for you.

Rafe must’ve noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of your seat a little tighter because he let out a long breath.

“Hey, it’s just a dinner. We eat, we talk, we leave. It’s not like they’re gonna put you under a microscope.”

You gave him a side-eye. “You know, I wasn’t nervous until you said that.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Shit. Sorry.”

The car came to a stop, and you could see the flicker of lights through the windows of the house. The pressure in your chest was building, but Rafe turned toward you, his hand cupping your face.

“Listen,” his blue eyes locked on yours, “I don’t care what happens in there. You’ve got me. If anyone makes you feel like you don’t belong, we’re out. Promise.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, stroking his thumb across your cheek. “One word and I’ll get you out.”

You kissed his palm, “I know.”

“Okay.” he muttered, then pulled away, giving one final deep breath before turning off the ignition. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both stepped out of the car, Rafe knocked once, and within seconds, it swung open to reveal Sarah standing there in all her kook-with-pogue -tendencies glory.

“Well, well,” she smirked, eyes narrowing at you two.

Rafe shot her a sharp look, “Knock it off.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let you in. “I’m kidding. Kinda.” She turned her attention to you, and you could feel her sizing you up, looking completely unfazed as she led the two of you further into the house. "Dad’s in the study. He’s waiting."

Your heart skipped a beat at that. Waiting? What did that even mean?

Rafe must have felt your nerves spike because he reached for your hand again, squeezing it as you followed Sarah down the long hallway.

The house felt even bigger on the inside, with its high ceilings and fancy decor. You felt out of place. But then you peeked over at Rafe, and something about the way he held your hand made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you did belong.

At least to him.

Sarah finally stopped outside a large wooden door, turning to you with an exaggerated sigh.

"Good luck.”

Rafe hesitated for a second, his hand still gripping yours tightly. "You ready?"

No. Absolutely not. But you nodded anyway. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

He pushed open the door, and there he was.

Ward Cameron, sitting behind a massive oak desk, looking as powerful and intimidating as ever. His eyes flicked up from whatever paperwork he was working on, settling on you with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Rafe," Ward said, his voice smooth and controlled, before turning his gaze to you. "And you must be... her."

You swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to say something, anything. "Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Mr. Cameron."

You immediately regretted it. Mr. Cameron? It sounded too formal, too awkward.

Ward didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, he looked amused. He stood up, coming around the desk to get a better look at you. His eyes scanned over you briefly, but it wasn’t the cold, judgmental look you’d expected. Instead, it felt more like... curiosity.

"So, you’re the girl my son’s been so serious about."

You nodded, wanting to be anywhere but stuck in that claustrophobic room despite its size, "That’s me.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked between you and Rafe, “I hear you’re working at the Country Club.”

It wasn’t really a question—more like he already knew everything about you. Oh. You didn’t like that, knowing that someone else was snooping around for dirt on you. At least it sounded like that was the plan.

You managed a nod, trying to keep your voice from sounding too hushed. “Yeah, I’ve been working there for a while.”

His expression didn’t really give anything away, but the way he looked at you, was unnerving. Rafe’s hand squeezed yours, reminding you that, no matter what, he had your back. One word and you were out.

“Good,” Ward finally said, “I like that you work.” He sneaked a stern look at your boyfriend before turning his attention back to you. “He could use some of that drive.”

Wait. What?

You hadn’t expected that. You thought maybe he’d grill you or give you the whole ‘what are your intentions with my son’routine. But no, he was... complimenting you? It had to be some kind of set up.

“Dad—” Rafe started, clearly not expecting that either, but Ward cut him off with a raised hand.

“No, seriously.” His eyes were back on you, and there was almost a smile there, like he was actually impressed. “It’s a good quality. I respect people who work hard, people who don’t just expect things to be handed to them. And from what I’ve heard, you’re one of those people.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

Ward Cameron? Complimenting you? Was this real life? You’d walked in here prepared for a full-on interrogation, and instead, he was... encouraging.

“I just hope some of that rubs off on my son,” Ward added, shooting Rafe a look, and you swore there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “He could stand to work a little harder. He’s always been a bit lazy.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing over at Rafe. He was glaring at his dad, but you could tell he wasn’t really pissed, just...embarrassed. You found it endearing.

“Thanks, Dad,” Rafe mumbled.

“I like it. Maybe you’ll inspire him to work a little harder.”

You blinked. Wait, was this actually happening? Did Ward Cameron, of all people, just say he liked you? This whole night felt like it was gonna be a disaster, and now... maybe it wasn’t gonna be so bad. You hoped so.

You really wanted his family to like you, you felt like you owned him at least trying.

“You know," Ward began, "I wasn't always the man you see standing here today." His voice took on a reflective tone, and you could sense the change in the atmosphere as he prepared to tell his story. "I grew up on the Cut, just like a lot of those kids you see around he, like you,” Ward said, almost casually, but you could tell it wasn’t a casual thing for him. "Back then, I didn’t have much. But I worked my ass off to get out of that place. I didn’t have a name, no wealth behind me. What I have now? I built that from the ground up. No one handed me anything."

Rafe, who had been quiet up until now, let out a small, barely audible sigh, shifting uncomfortably beside you. You took a quick glance at him and caught the unmistakable eye-roll he tried to hide.

Clearly, this wasn’t the first time Ward had given this speech. But at the same time, you could tell he was relieved that his dad wasn’t tearing into you. That had to count for something, right?

Ward, oblivious or perhaps just unfazed by his son’s reaction, continued, his voice gaining momentum like he was giving you some kind of motivational speech. "It wasn’t easy. There were plenty of times when I could’ve given up, but I didn’t. I pushed through, made connections, took risks. That’s how you get ahead. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes. Now look where I am—" He gestured around at the lavish room, the estate itself practically a testament to his success. "I built an empire. Something real. Something that can last."

You nodded politely, unsure if you were supposed to say something. Rafe’s obvious eye-rolling and silent huffs of frustration beside you made it clear that he’d heard all this a hundred times before. He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms, clearly waiting for his dad to wrap it up.

But Ward wasn’t done yet. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The point is," he said, his tone softening a little, "I respect people who are willing to work for what they want. I see that in you. It’s not about where you start—it’s about where you’re going."

Rafe let out a short, quiet breath that you might’ve missed if you weren’t sitting right next to him. He shot you a small, knowing smile, almost like he was apologizing for the speech but also relieved that Ward wasn’t being an asshole.

You squeezed his hand under the table. At least his dad wasn’t tearing you down.

"Thanks, Mr. Cameron," you said, finally finding your voice. "I really appreciate that."

He nodded, seeming satisfied with himself. "Just remember," he added, his voice lowering as if he was giving you some kind of life lesson, "Hard work pays off. You keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll get somewhere. Don’t ever settle, not even for him.”

“Thanks again.”

Rafe looked like he was about to explode from how much he was holding back, but he just gave you a quick wink as if to say, Yeah, this is typical dad, but hey—he likes you, so we’re good.

Ward clapped his hands together, the moment of sincerity quickly passing. "Alright, well, I think dinner’s ready. Shall we?"

He strode ahead, leading the way out of the study and toward the dining room, leaving you and Rafe a few steps behind. The moment he was out of earshot, you looked up at Rave, “You think we’re good?”

He smirked, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes, his tone all teasing. “Baby, I think he might build you a pedestal.” 

You couldn’t help but snort, trying to keep your voice down as you followed Ward. “Really? After that ‘self-made empire’ speech?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, giving you a knowing look. “Trust me, if you got through that and he didn’t start questioning your entire existence, you’re golden. The man sees himself in anyone who works hard enough to breathe without permission.”

You bit back a laugh, gripping his hand as you walked down the long hallway. “Yeah, I was getting that vibe.”

His grin grew wider, his thumb skimming over your knuckles. “And look, usually, it’s a full-blown interrogation by now. You’re good.”

You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised. “Really?”

Rafe nodded. “Oh yeah. Sarah’s brought home guys before and it was... rough.” He shook his head, “He actually likes you. That’s rare.”

Maybe things with the Camerons were actually going to be okay.

[lialuvsaven]

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tw: none, he's just skittish but that's understandable. Might have grammatical mistakes but English isn't my first language so whatever. The « » words are supposed to be the avgin dialect okok that's all

"Will you teach me how to speak the Avgin dialect?"

Aventurine nearly splutters out the sip of wine he was about to drink, and you observe as his whole body subtly jerks — trying to figure out if he misheard you or not.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

And yet, the only expression he sees on your face is a little smile, a hint of curiosity and optimism in those lovely eyes of yours. For some reason, he can't find it in him to appreciate that look this time.

"And why is that?" The tone of his voice is reserved, calculated, and for a millisecond, you are reminded of your job: meetings, negotiations and transaction. The air suddenly feels thicker, and although he maintains his usual smile, there's a subtle shift that suggests it may not be as genuine as it was moments ago.

"Because I….want to understand you?" You naively respond, unaware of the warnings you're triggering in his head, unaware of the amount of bells ringing in his ears. The red alarms flashing in front of his eyes are bright, and they blind him to everything else, drowning out your silhouette until he can't make out your face as a familiar one.

All he's seeing is red, red of a warning bell, red of sunset and endings, red of blood and—

"I'm not sure why you even thought that would be a good idea" a small chuckle leaves his mouth, and he shifts a little on the couch in an attempt to regain his belongings.

"After all, I don't even speak it anymore— a dead language is not something you'd benefit from learning."

"But I am a linguist" You counter, huffing a bit. "I wouldn't think a language is “less beneficial” just because it's dead. Besides, Sigonian isn't a dead language, and neither is the Avgin dialect. You are here, and you speak it."

Blink.

"What?" Aventurine grows defensive, and he shifts in his seat again; only a little. It's not okay to let others know of your discomfort, you cannot show your weaknesses. Luckily, you don't notice, and he continues carefully.

"I don't speak it— what are you saying? How could I possibly use that language?"

He picks his sentences with caution, leaving half of it up in the air for you to interpret. He can't bring himself to finish it— he can't use it when everyone else who spoke of it is presumably dead. That would only result in another restless night of futile attempts at subduing the void in his heart. Just because he knows it, doesn't mean he likes to think of it.

Aventurine does not like to remember the fact that he's the only one left of the Avgins, even though the cosmos is merciless in its reminders.

"You do speak it!!" You insist, and look into his eyes, and his eyes almost make you forget the rest of your sentence. "—You say things under your breath. When things go south, or when your catcakes do something super adorable and you can't hold a grin on your face. I've seen you multiple times, talking to yourself in an unfamiliar language. It is your mother tongue, is it not?"

Ah.

The words that escape your lips are curling into itself, flickering through the corners of his mind. I've seen you multiple times. Multiple times. Multiple times. Talking to yourself. To yourself. To yourself.

His mother tongue.

Oh, how he wishes he could talk to someone else, how he longs to talk to another Avgin in his mother tongue— in their mother tongue.

"Do I do that?" He inquires, and you affirm, still wearing a smile. Both of you have been smiling at each other, but only one of you is clawing through the walls of their mind trying their best not to leave the room right this moment. You're not an adversary, he reminds himself. You're not an enemy.

"I can't teach you that." He stares in an unusually cold tone, sending shivers down your spine. A tone Aventurine reserves for when a business deal has gone wry, for when he needs to put on his best performance and come back at the top. Unfortunately, this means there's no room for you to argue, no negotiations, no nothing.

You realize a bit too late that you've made him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry" Apologies keep flowing from your mouth, but Aventurine can barely hear them. All he knows is the warning bells in his ears are growing fainter, and you are once more becoming recognizable, the blur in your face diminishing by the second.

"It's okay," he laughs softly, ruffling your hair to dispel the gloom on your face.

"I don't remember much anyway- I can't teach you anything meaningful, you know? I think Tanti or any of the likes would do much better for your next research material than my native language. We have a reputation across the cosmos anyway, that language can't be intriguing to people."

"Huh?" You tilt your head in confusion, "I'm not going to write a paper on it though???"

"Then what did you want to learn it for?"

"Did you not hear me? I said I wanted to get to know you better."

The feeling of discomfort is back with that, and Aventurine finds himself trying to figure out how to come up with a valid excuse to end the conversation. If he isn't careful, you'll catch on. And if you catch on, you'll keep insisting on trying to understand him, to mend your mistakes and to avoid something similar in future. Then, he'd simply have to cut you off before you go too far. And he'd rather not cut you off and keep you by his side. Yes please, thanks.

You speak once more, but this time you avert your gaze from his eyes and focus on the soft carpet beneath your feet. "If you're not comfortable teaching me, I won't insist. I apologize if I overstepped. I want you to know that my intentions were not malicious. I simply wanted to learn your language so that we could converse in it, and I'm open to sharing my own language with you if you're interested."

Ah. You've now started to speak with more formal and eloquent words than usual, a habit Aventurine has picked up on thanks to observing you for so many years. You always do that when nervous, along with averting eye contact- and you're now anxious.

"it's okay," he reassures you again. "I know what you mean. So no need to worry, hm?"

His words seem to have given you a confidence boost, because your next words catch him off guard again.

"Also, I found your language to be quite beautiful."

"....Beautiful?"

"Yes," you gesture with your hands as you continue, "it's very melodious, you know? I'm familiar with the Sigonian language, as it was one of the languages I studied during my major. However, the Avgin dialect sounds... different. Of course, you're a very quiet mumbler—obviously— and I couldn't understand much- but I've realized that the Avgin is not only is not only significantly different from standard Sigonian, but it also has a much sweeter sound. As a linguist, it's disheartening to think that this sweetness has gone unnoticed by the world."

The initial panic has completely dissipated for Aventurine, replaced by a sadness even he can't place what for. He has half a mind to laugh, and tell you that his people were sweet too, but no one cared for that either. He wants to say of course it sounded sweeter, the standard Sigonian had always been dry and lacking the warmth, any Avgin would agree with you. And yet, he dares not let the dam loose.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he decides to observe you, as the ringing in his ears has now completely silenced. The you in front of his eyes is meek, likely because you've assumed you overstepped and made him upset. He hates seeing that expression on you: truly, especially when you shouldn't have to feel that guilt. He knows you well enough to know you're not lying, and for a split second— he entertains the idea of sharing the sweetness of his language with you, to have someone else who can understand his tongue.

He decides it's not an entirely uncomfortable thought.

It has been a few weeks since he agreed to teach you the Avgin dialect, and he still finds it surprising that he made that decision. Everything related to the Avgins and their culture is dear to him, including his people, his family, and of course, kakavasha; he protects them with all of his being. However, for some reason, he has chosen to share this delicate and intimate part of himself with you. After all, he is the last known surviving Avgin—this is more than personal; it's his mother tongue, for goodness' sake!

You've proven yourself to be a very very dedicated student, absorbing every piece of information he imparts like a sponge. Aventurine is unsure of how to teach you, as he himself is losing touch with his language thanks to not speaking it for years. Because of you, he now thinks more in Avgin and realizes how much he thought he had forgotten but still remembered, and how much he thought he remembered but had forgotten.

But it's nice, to be greeted in his language whenever you two come across each other. You're still cheerful and sparkling as before, but now you can greet him in his language. «Hello, how's your day going!!!» You ask him each time, with that accent and broken words that makes you sound childish more than anything. But Aventurine could care less about that; he's quick to greet you back each time, adding a new word so you learn something from each interaction.

You've told him that he's much much more expressive whenever speaking Avgin, but he tries not to think about it.

"Manro means bread," Aventurine informs you, observing quietly as you eagerly jot it down in your notepad. "I quite like the feel of pen and paper," you told him once, and he still can't comprehend why that's preferable to typing on a screen instead.

"Mañro?" you repeat, and he has to conceal an affectionate smile at your accent. It's unfamiliar and odd, but not disliked. Never disliked.

"Manro." He corrects, and you get it down this time.

"So….«manro» means bread and you said…«pani» meant water? So let's say I wanna talk about my lunch….«I water with bread eat?» Is that how you say it?"

Aventurine purses his lips, trying to appear serious. "No, it's «I ate bread with water.» But what's with that meal choice? That can't be good for you."

You only huff in response, "hey— I'm still learning okay!! How do you say wine?"

"Mol"

"Mol— how about wanting to drink or taste?"

Aventurine raises an eyebrow, "Zumavel"

"Okok. So…. «I want to taste wine really bad. Might die.»"

Aventurine snickers at that, turning his gaze away to avoid receiving another punch from you. Despite the fact that you've opted for this inefficient learning method—since he can't provide proper grammar lessons—the sentences you're coming up with are hilarious.

"Not quite. It's «I want to drink wine so bad that I might die»" he corrects you again, and you let out an embarrassed laugh to write the correct structure down. You've promised him you'll figure out the grammatical structure and everything to him after all. And he can't say he's not hoping you actually will.

"How do you say eye?"

"Just like how you say in standard Sigonian"

"Ohhh….I've noticed that body part names are usually unchanged in the Avgin dialect. How about warmth?"

"We call it tato" he smiles at you, and your cheeks tint the faintest hue of pink as you look away.

"«Your eyes—»" you purse your lips, thinking hard to form the structure "«-Are warm right now. Very warm.»"

Aventurine's eyes widen, and for a moment he's speechless; unable to comprehend how and why. But you're blushing, and playing with the hem of your shirt, which means at the very least you aren't lying.

«I'm afraid you've become my heart» He says under his breath, the words escaping his mouth before he can even stop them. It tastes sweet in his tongue, memories of a time long gone resurfacing. He didn't even remember that saying, up until now. And now, he has a little more understanding of how sweet his mother tongue really is.

"What does that mean?" You ask him, and he merely smiles at that.

"Nothing. I just said thank you."

A/N : gah I'm sorry for that word vomit I can't stop thinking about it....like one been thinking for months about his language and what it might mean for him now that he's (presumably) the only avgin left. My mother tongue has PLENTY of dialects, and there are certain ones that are totally different from the standard (I don't understand some of those) so I kind of projected....and other than that I hope it wasn't too bad omg

[rafecameroninterlude]

[🍪] chocolate chip cookie, includes; a fic inspired by a song of your choice!

maybe frat!rafe or either dealer!rafe (👀) with friends by chase atlantic😁😁😁😁😁😁😁they’re at a party and all her friends are fucked up and yk HAKSJDKD

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

pairing: dealer!rafe x fem!reader

summary: ❝all of your friends have been here for too long, they must be waiting for you to move on. girl, i’m not with it, i’m way too far gone.❞ — after confessing his feelings for you, rafe gets nervous and leaves you the following morning. now you two are at a party, and he isn’t leaving without you.

warnings: friends w benefits au, mentions of drinking and dealing of drugs, arguing, suggestive ending

word count: 0.7k

a/n: wrote this with s2 rafe in mind..

you were the only sober one at this party. along with rafe, who never drank when he was dealing, and vowed to never get high on his own supply. you knew he’d be here— a party wasn’t a party if rafe wasn’t serving up people in the corner of the living room. you stared at him from a distance, his eyes occasionally finding yours when he looked up from the stacks of money on the table. you hated how good he looked tonight. skin flushed with a sheen of sweat from having so many people around him, his bangs hanging loosely in his face, with that blue jeans and white t-shirt combo that you loved so much.

you swallowed thickly, your trance being broken when one of your, very drunk, friends grabbed onto your arm for support. “stop looking at himmm!” she slurred, cackling when you rolled your eyes. “he just wants you for himself without any real commitment.” she nearly lost her footing, a yelp leaving her lips as you decided to guide her out of the kitchen. while your friend wasn’t all the way wrong, she didn’t know enough about you and rafe’s ‘situationship’ to form an opinion on it. your friends only knew what you told them, which meant they’ve only ever heard your annoyed rants.

“let’s get you over here..” you sat her down on the couch where the rest of your friends drunkenly talked amongst each other. rafe wasn’t far from where you sat, his laugh echoing in your ears as he started stuffing his black backpack full of cash. you could tell by the smile on his face that he had a good night for shop. sensing that you were looking at him, rafe felt the burn of your gaze as he got up, having no intention of leaving this party without you on his arm. you smelled his cologne before he approached you, the scent making your heart flutter in your chest.

“hey, can we talk?” rafe stopped in front of you, your friends turning around at the sound of his voice. you looked up at him, cursing under your breath at how handsome he was. “leave her alone, asshole!” rafe smiled at your friend, flipping her off before getting you up and taking you outside. “your friends are annoying as fuck.” he stopped by his truck, backing you up against the vehicle until his thigh sat comfortably between your legs. you knew what he was doing. “they’re drunk..” you glared at him, “what do you want?” rafe tilted his head at your words. “what do i want?” he repeated.

“you gonna act like you weren’t staring me down in there?” he laughed, cupping your chin. “you look pretty.” turning your head away from him, you shrugged him off as you arched a brow. “i was looking at you, and?” you ignored his little compliment. “..and you haven’t replied to any of my messages or called me back.. why?” you shook your head. “are you seriously asking me this? you tell me you have feelings for me while you’re inside of me, and then leave without a word in the morning? excuse me if i felt like you were toying with me or something.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“i got nervous, alright! but i swear to you i meant every word. i would never mess with you like that..” he stepped closer. “i’ve been wanting this, us, for a long time, y/n. i’m not good at this stuff, but i want to try, i want to do it with you.” your gaze softened. “do you mean that?” your voice was small, a clear indication that you weren’t trying to argue with him anymore. “i fucking swear by it.” you watched as his jaw clenched. “i wont disappoint you, baby.” finally, for the first time in two weeks, he took you in his arms. you sighed, feeling a weight you didn’t know was there, lift off of your shoulders.

“is this a revenge dress?” you laughed when he pulled away, inspecting your outfit. “no, but it worked.” you teased. rafe leaned down and kissed you, in which you wasted no time in returning. “come on, let’s get out of here.. ‘before your friends threaten me.” you let him place you in the passenger seat, a squeal leaving your lips when he landed a harsh smack to your ass.

[violettwrites]

hey bae! i’m lowkey so obsessed with your young trailerpark!daryl as well and i wanted to put in a request for like daryl and reader spending their first night together(if yk what i mean) and merle waking up the next day and teasing them once he notices that reader is still there from the previous night. Don’t care for smut at all, just for the teasing tbh😭 Anyways no pressure and have a nice day🫶🏽

teasings 🏹 young trailerpark!daryl dixon

a/n: nonnie thank u so so so much for this request. as soon as i saw u had sent it in i HAD to write this. if you enjoyed this, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and or comment ! here is my masterlist, and my ask box is open for requests !

this can be a stand alone oneshot, or possibly a part two to this tp!daryl piece

summary: 1988. merle catches daryl & reader in bed together one morning, teasing them relentlessly.

pairing: tp!daryl x tp!reader

warnings: brief smut — 18+, merle being annoying

word count: 765

— — —

the early morning sun was just starting to peek through the cracks in the thin curtains of daryl’s small bedroom, casting soft streaks of light across the room. you stirred under the covers, blinking away sleep as you tried to gather your bearings. you could feel the warmth of daryl beside you, his steady breathing mixing with the sounds of birds outside. for a second, you smiled, remembering the events from last night.

”fuck— daryl!” you gasped, fingernails digging into his biceps as he thrusted into you, grunting with each movement of his hips. he had your thighs practically pressed to your chest, the sound of skin slapping together echoing his small bedroom.

“wha’s that, pretty girl?” he murmured as he looked down at you, blue eyes dark with lust as he quickened the movements of his hips, causing you to whine at both the compliment, and the feeling of his cock inside you. you to squeezed your eyes shut, only for him to grab your cheeks with his hand, shaking your head a little. “look a’ me.”

after all those years of growing up together, though all the ups and downs, things had finally fallen into place between you and him.

before you could fully wake up, you heard the door to the trailer barge open, heavy footsteps making their way towards the bedroom, where daryl’s door swung wide open.

“well, well, well, what do we got here?” merle’s voice rang out, loud and obnoxious as ever. “looks like little brother finally got hisself some!”

daryl tensed beside you, a groan coming from his throat as he was rudely awoken by merle, though it was nothing new for him. “shut up, merle,” he grumbled, face scrunched in frustration as he rubbed at his eyes. his voice was hoarse, clearly not in the mood to deal with his brother’s teasing. but merle wasn’t one to let things go.

you sat up, pulling the blanket to cover yourself, giving merle a look that could kill. “get lost, merle. nobody has time for your crap this early in the morning,” you snapped, throwing him a warning glare. merle, of course, didn’t take it seriously.

“aww, c’mon now, sugar. just sayin’ daryl ain’t usually this lucky! gotta give ‘im props,” he said with a shit eating grin, clearly enjoying every second of daryl’s embarassment.

you rolled your eyes, already used to merle’s nonsense. “you really wanna get your ass handed to you before breakfast? ‘cause you’re headed in the right direction.”

merle cackled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “woah now, girlie, don’t get feisty on me. i’m just proud of daryl here. took him long enough to figure it out.”

daryl groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes, trying to hide from the world— or maybe just his older brother. “i swear, merle, if ya don’t leave right now, ‘m gonna knock ya on yer ass.”

merle have one more obnoxious ha!, finally stepping back out of the room. “alright, alright. i’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. just remember, y’all need to lock the damn door next time. don’t nobody wanna see this.” he smirked and pulled the door shut, making his way out of the trailer.

you sat there for a second in silence before looking over at daryl, who was still covering his face. “i’m gonna kill him one day,” he muttered.

you chuckled, leaning over to poke his side. “i’ll help ya,” you giggled, your voice still a little groggy but playful. “but he is right about one thing.” you hated to admit it.

daryl finally pulled his arm away and raised an eyebrow at you, his hair a wild mess. “what?”

you smirked, brushing a hand over his chest. “took you long enough.”

his cheeks flushed slightly, something that made your heart skip every time. even though daryl dixon was tough as nails, around you, he had always been softer. “i didn’t—“ he started to protest, but you leaned in closer, cutting him off with a kiss. it was soft and lingering, enough to make him forget whatever he was going to say.

pulling back, you gave him a teasing grin. “don’t worry. it was worth the wait.” your hand gave him a soft pat on the chest.

daryl huffed, a small smile creeping into his face. “yeah, well, next time we make sure merle ain’t around, aight?”

you laughed softly. "deal."

outside, you could hear merle hollering something to the neighbours, but you didn’t care. in this moment, it was just you and daryl, finally where you both wanted to be.

[imsandra]

A breath

Pairing: Azriel x female reader

Summary: In the silent embrace of the night, Azriel found in Y/N the comfort he never knew he needed.

Warning: Fluffy comfort, I think that's it.

Word count: 1120

Notes: I believe many creators have written similar pieces, so this may not be a new concept. Feel free to leave your comments, suggestions; everything is welcome as long as it's with the intention of teaching and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar issues.

Original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my work.

I appreciate any comments, reblogs, and likes I receive.

Happy reading!

Master list

The night in Velaris always had something special, but this one, in particular, felt magical. The gentle murmur of the Sidra River, the mild air filled with the scent of night-blooming flowers, and the clear sky full of stars that seemed to shine only for those willing to observe them closely.

Azriel was flying back to the House of Wind. He had had one of those long days, the kind where the exhaustion wasn’t just physical but emotional too. Azriel had spent hours training the Illyrians, dealing with disputes, and making sure everything ran smoothly in the Night Court.

Y/N had seen him enter, his posture stiff, and the shadows around him more restless than usual. Since they had begun spending more time together, she had learned to read him, to notice when he was tired or when something bothered him, even if he never said it. That night, however, something inside her told her that Azriel needed more than just company; he needed someone to care for him for once.

Without a word, Y/N followed him to the sitting room where Azriel usually sat after his missions or training, right next to the large window that offered a panoramic view of the city. He was there, staring out at the horizon, the stars reflecting in his golden eyes, but without his usual spark.

With a soft smile, Y/N entered and walked up to him. She sat beside him in silence, respecting his need for quiet. She didn’t need to ask what was wrong; she knew him well enough to know he would speak if he wanted to.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she suddenly got up and said, "I’ll be back in a moment."

Azriel watched her leave the room without asking where she was going. In his mind, the shadows kept whispering, but there was something about Y/N’s presence that calmed them slightly. She always made him feel less alone, less lost.

A little while later, Y/N returned with a cup of hot tea in her hands and a couple of blankets. Without asking, she offered him the tea and then draped one of the blankets over his legs.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Azriel asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Y/N shrugged, smiling. "Taking care of you. You look exhausted."

Azriel took the cup of tea, surprised by how comforting such a simple gesture could be. No one usually took care of him like that. He was always the one looking out for others, the one protecting, the one watching over his loved ones from the shadows. But with Y/N... she made him feel like someone worthy of being cared for.

Y/N sat back down beside him, wrapping herself in a blanket, and gently snuggled up against him. At first, Azriel tensed reflexively, but then he relaxed when she intertwined her fingers with his, softly caressing his scarred hand. Though he hated the scars for the horrible memories they brought him, Y/N didn’t feel the same. To her, they were part of his story.

The touch was so light, so intimate, that it surprised him how much it soothed him.

"Do you feel better?" she whispered, without looking directly at him, her focus on the nighttime view of Velaris.

Azriel gently squeezed her hand in response. "Yes... much better," he answered softly.

The peace he had been searching for all day, the calm he so longed for, he found there, in that moment, sitting next to Y/N, with her hand in his and her warmth comforting him.

"You know," Y/N continued in a low voice, "you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your own. You can rest, lean on someone every now and then."

Azriel remained silent for a moment, his thoughts deep. Y/N’s words resonated with him in a way that few things ever did. He was so used to being the shield for everyone else, to protect and care, that he rarely allowed himself to be vulnerable, even for a moment.

"Thank you," he finally whispered, his voice full of sincerity. "For this. For... taking care of me."

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her smile soft and understanding. "I’ll always do it, Az. Anytime you need it," she told him, a promise between them.

Azriel turned to her, his eyes meeting hers, and in that moment, something inside him broke, in the most beautiful way possible. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Y/N’s, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply, letting her closeness envelop him completely.

They remained like that, together in the stillness, simply enjoying the peace they had found in each other. For Azriel, it was a reminder that it was okay to be vulnerable, that he didn’t always have to be strong—at least not with Y/N. And for her, it was a moment of tenderness, knowing that, although Azriel was a warrior in the shadows, in her arms he would always have a place to rest.

"Come," Y/N said softly, shifting a bit and pulling him down. "Let’s relax a little more."

Azriel let her guide him, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa as she nestled at his side, resting her head on his chest. His wings instinctively moved to wrap around them, creating a warm, protective barrier.

"I promise tomorrow will be better," Y/N whispered, her fingers gently playing with the dark strands of Azriel’s hair.

Azriel smiled for the first time all day, his hand softly caressing Y/N’s back. "With someone like you by my side, it will be."

Y/N kissed his cheek, and the spymaster blushed.

Under the blankets, under the night’s veil and the shelter of Azriel’s wings, they both found comfort in each other. A shared peace that didn’t need grand words or elaborate gestures—just a simple promise to always be there for one another.

*divider by @cafekitsune , thank you <33.

A/N: After an angst-filled Azriel x reader it's only fair to have a fluffy one. I hope you liked it and I'm sorry it was short, let me know what you think. Kisses, love you guys.

[harunayuuka2060]

Mephistopheles: *was prompted to confide in MC following Thirteen's advice*

MC: ...

MC: I don't feel good about this one.

Mephistopheles: Does that mean you don’t have a solution for it?

MC: Angels are naturally more stubborn than demons.

MC: And since it's Raphael we're dealing with, he'll probably just give us a silent treatment if we try to confront him.

Mephistopheles: What should we do then?

MC: This calls for drastic measures.

Raphael: What are you all doing in my room?

MC: Trespassing.

Thirteen: I've got nothing to do.

Mephistopheles: *covering his face in embarrassment*

Raphael: In that case, I suggest you to leave.

MC: But it's dark outside~ Are you really going to send us away~?

Thirteen: Yeah, it's dangerous out there.

Mephistopheles: *mumbles* You two are more perilous than angels and demons combined...

Raphael: ...