#now I can finally move on to the next chapters.................

[hellowoolf]

something, somehow, someday

chapter 4: close to you | prev | next | series masterlist

series summary: you know you will love satoru for the rest of your life, but when you wake with his cursed energy in your navel there is no option but to flee. what future is there for a child of a god? at 18 satoru is without you, and you make off with a piece of him you hoped he'd never meet.

pairing: secret baby daddy!gojo x reader

tags: secret child trope, angst (lots), eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, a lot of yearning :P, chapter specific: SMUT, unprotected piv, creampie (sorry), fingering,

a/n: thank you guys for your responses on the poll! this one is more than double the average length of the other chapters (~8k) and i plan to keep that convention from here on out. i hope you enjoy this one >:)

18+! minors dni <3

~~~~~~~

it is a funny feeling, YOU find, making your life new with a thing so familiar. to open your door so often and find satoru standing there, letting him bring food and splaying himself on your couch, walking with him in the heavy mist at dusk, it fills your lungs like smoke, the nostalgia thick and cloying. you remember all of it, it comes back to you embalmed.  

but the differences between now and your time together in high school demand your attention in equal measure. your son, for one: though it’s impossible to find the sight of him with his father unnatural given how obvious their relation is. with their backs turned they move the same, too, something between them irrevocably tied. you had forgotten the way satoru wrought blades of grass between his fingers when he laid in it until you had to clean both their palms of chlorophyll.

nonetheless your affection for satoru is much more hulking a thing than it ever was, supplanted by the tangible aftermath of the ways you used to love him. when takara lets him pick him up, grips to his collar as satoru balances him on his hip, you are defenseless. the softest parts of you win out. 

still, neither you nor satoru make any attempt to name the arrangement you’ve come upon. he is resolutely your child’s father and has stepped into that role with grace, and there are artifacts of your intimacy—his hand on your lower back, brushing your hair from your shoulder blades, an almost kiss, once—but mostly you let the joy of your child consume your time. 

and it shouldn’t bother you. you remember feeling so certain in high school that letting him fuck you was enough, that to love him quietly was a privilege. you suppose you still mostly believe that. but there are moments when takara is asleep and satoru lingers in your kitchen, and the want flares bright then. you are at a loss watching him leave with that look on his face, like he’s afraid you’ll ask him to stay and terrified you’ll let him leave. you sometimes wait a moment before locking the door behind him.

jujutsu tech stands like a graveyard around you, so full of memory the buildings almost sag. you haven’t been back here since the night takara came to you.

“oi!” satoru bellows from across the courtyard, hand high and wagging. 

takara holds a grip on your pant leg, one blue eye peeking out. you feel him loosen a little when he sees his dad, and then refasten when megumi and tsumiki emerge behind him. 

when satoru first suggested you both come to meet them you had hesitated. you were honest; there was something final about this last introduction. there would be nothing else left for each of you to keep separate from the other, your lives entirely reconnected. satoru had laughed at you in that way that makes your heart turn, and that sound was all it took for you—weak to him—to agree.

satoru comes rushing to takara, scooping him from behind you and holding him to his side. takara screeches, half afraid and half delighted. tsumiki walks to you without hesitation, little hand held out for you to shake. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” she says. her smile is soft, a little secret, but you can tell she is pleased with herself for her manners. you smile back.

“it’s nice to meet you, too.” 

she looks up at takara in satoru’s arms and waves. takara is frozen, too shy to move, so satoru takes his chubby wrist and waves it a little. tsumiki giggles. “they’re like twins.”

you lean in a little conspiratorially. “i know. i carried him for nine months and have nothing to show for it.”

she giggles behind her hand before turning to her brother. “don’t be rude,” she admonishes.

megumi cannot hear her, it seems. he’s watching takara paw at satoru’s shirt, turning in his hold as gojo points to the various buildings to explain what they are. to himself, or maybe to you, megumi whispers: “it’s so freaky.”

tsumiki scoffs lightly and goes to elbow him but you can only laugh again, louder this time. he may not be related to satoru but he was certainly raised by him. “you are exactly as satoru described,” you admit.

megumi furrows his brows and crosses his arms. yes, so furious, satoru had said once. “how exactly did he describe me?”

“as a little shit,” satoru offers, one palm now cupped over takara’s ear. megumi’s mouth falls open a moment before making a fist with each hand and bringing them in front of him. satoru only rolls his eyes and uses his knee to knock his arms out of place. megumi practically growls something about i’m really gonna do it someday and tsumiki taunts back at him: you’re such a liar!

oh, but that look on satoru’s face, he is so pleased. his eyes squint with it, you can almost see the satisfied breathing of his cursed energy, satoru is happy. it makes you beam at him and his breath catches when he sees it. 

takara wriggles out of his grip and stations himself at your legs again, but doesn’t hide this time. tsumiki is completely enamored, cooing again, “hi, takara!”

takara sucks in a little breath. “hello.”

tsumiki claps her hands together and looks up at you and gojo. “can we show him around? please?”

“what is there to show?” satoru asks.

“the training room, our old bedrooms, the koi fish—”

your eyes widen. satoru’s gaze flits to you, frantic, and you smirk, the tiniest thing. the koi fish? you mouth. satoru’s cheeks flush pink as he shakes his head slightly, but the damage is done, he knows. tsumiki is still listing menial places across campus.

you squeeze takara’s shoulder. “what do you think, bubba?” he looks at you, owlish, and then at tsumiki, before nodding. she takes his hand with a pleased squeal and the three putter off together.

satoru stands boyish before you as you straighten again. he tends to keep his blindfold off around takara—whether to keep from frightening him or for a more profound reason you don’t know—but he is bared to you without it. he knows exactly what you’ll say, lifting a hand as he turns and starts towards his office: “don’t.”

you skip to catch up with him. “oh, no, i think i have to.”

“i’m just a friend to nature.”

you howl. “you’re just as dishonest as you always were.”

he doesn’t dignify that with a response, pushing into his office and letting you inside. the walls are a dark wood, mostly bare save for the few bookshelves bloated with old novels and records and manila folders. a handful of pens scatter across the desk, like he’d needed to finish a sentence urgently before standing. there’s a record player on the windowsill, fuzzy with dust but clean in places around the arm. it looks like he’d used it recently for the first time in years. most of all it smells like him, mint and cedar and sugar, and you almost double over sick with it. 

satoru settles into his chair as you trace a finger along the spines of his books, his eyes igniting your back but you refuse to turn, you want him to watch. “you’ve done a great job with them,” you admit.

“you think so?”

you just barely twist your head over your shoulder to show him the sincerity on your face. “of course i do.”

he runs a hand through his hair. “they seem to like takara.”

you turn fully now to lean your back on the shelf. “everyone likes takara.”

he chuckles, fond. “yeah, i guess so.”

the sounds of this place are so startlingly the same, you think. the serenity is strange and charged, but nonetheless campus was always quiet enough to hear the wind through the leaves. you hear it now as you flip through mission files and reports: special grade, special grade, grade one, special grade, suguru geto. you put them down.

“is it weird to be back?”

you nod, gesturing around the room. “i’ll admit i was hoping for more of a welcome. is nobody else here?”

“yeah, i asked them to give us the afternoon so takara wouldn’t be overwhelmed for his first time.”

you pout, mainly to bare your lip to him but there is truth in it, too. “nobody wanted to see me?”

satoru shakes his head. “i wanted you all to myself,” he admits. and it’s teasing, easy, he says it like it doesn’t cost him anything, but you know he is like you: he almost never says something he doesn’t mean.

“how did they react when you told them?”

“that i have a son? kept a secret by his villainous mother?”

your eyes narrow but you’re grinning as you respond: “yeah.”

he cocks his head and kisses his teeth. “yaga said he was disappointed in you.”

“for leaving?”

“no, for letting me…” he smiles, wolfish for a second before it fades into something friendlier, “for giving me the opportunity.” you laugh, a bark of a sound, halfway humiliated. you nod him on. “and shoko was the one who found you, so, there wasn’t anyone else to tell.”

your hand finds your arm and you squeeze your bicep once, twice, swallowing around the tragedy in his confession: that all the people you used to know here are gone somehow. you hadn’t visited haibara’s grave since you left; nanami helped you lug a stone out by the stream and you grew flowers around the base, yellow pansies and red carnations. you remember kento pointing to them in a flower language book so you could conjure them properly, remember the promise you made not to tell a soul what they meant. 

the memory must show on your face, because satoru says then, “i still water those flowers you made by haibara’s grave.”

you smile at him, watery and real. you add on, “and feed my fish,” and he laughs like a surrender. 

you move to the record player just behind him and he swivels his chair to follow you. something seizes in your belly at the feeling of him scrutinizing you, the weight of his looking a leaden thing against your skin. you thumb through the few vinyls resting in the window before stopping on one. the words stick to your teeth like honey but you spit them as best you can: “this is mine.”

you hear satoru stand and look over your shoulder. frank sinatra’s close to you: the sleeve is long stained and yellowed, waterlogged in one corner, but the record inside is pristine. 

you remember the first time your grandmother taught you how to play her gramophone. her hands guided your smaller ones across the pavilion, down to the plateau; it was old and rusted, even then, something she’d bought second hand as a girl. but she had collected hundreds of records, they made piles throughout her home, and every afternoon you selected one to play. close to you was her gift to you when you entered jujutsu tech.

of course, you never had a record player. all three years it sat unused on your desk, a remembrance, still smelling like the tatami from her living room. she had told you once that sinatra taught her how to speak english, which you mostly believed; her english vowels opened with the syrup of the american east-coast, and she held each word a moment too long, like it took a great deal of effort not to sing them. 

you run your knuckles along the sleeve, feeling the still-familiar places where the gloss has faded and the paper catches. you hardly notice how close to your back satoru has drifted until he reaches around you to remove the record and situate it on the player. you freeze, his looming figure warm around you, his arms brushing your shoulders as he fiddles with the tone arm. you hope he can’t feel your heartbeat through your spine, but it rushes so deafening in your ears you cannot discern either way.

it could happen to you crackles to life from the speaker and you feel like you’ve been swallowed by space, on the cusp of a wrinkle. you wonder whether time has really suspended around you or if it’s only this, this song and this man at your back. your breathing is uneven and satoru does not step back, head craned a little to bring his chin closer to your shoulder. 

slowly, almost self-consciously, he braces each hand on the sides of the windowsill, keeping you surrounded. 

“it’s been so long since i’ve heard this song,” you whisper. the melody chimes and swings around the violin and you cannot help but tilt your head back a little into satoru’s chest, overcome with the ghost of the music as it hangs above you. satoru lets your weight lean slightly into him, unmoving.

“i hope it’s okay that i took it.” his voice rumbles through your bones before you hear it. you nod and it scrapes against his sternum. the friction stirs something in him, you think, because then he’s bringing a hand to your stomach, fingers long and splayed across your entire torso, and he rests his cheek fully on the back of your head. it would almost look like you were dancing if you began to move, but neither of you seem willing to risk it.

“do you ever wonder what it would have been like?”

you don’t need him to clarify. “all the time,” you confess. the sun moves behind the clouds outside, and you catch a moment of the both of you in the reflection. 

his hand tightens around your middle, holding you against him. the song threatens to end but he keeps his arm banded around you. “are we friends now?”

you laugh softly. “i honestly don’t know.”

he nods before bringing his other hand to your chin. he spreads the pads of his fingers, feeling the shape of your jaw, looking for something, for you. “would you let me kiss you, if i asked?”

“yes,” you say, but it comes out more breathless than you intend. your thighs press together and you’re sure he notices with how his hips cage you in, but he only hums, removing the hand around your chin. 

“it’s a bad idea,” he breathes, but still his nose brushes at the juncture of your neck and your shoulder. you shudder and nod. it is. 

and despite how badly you want him, you do not turn and demand it. it’s so precarious now, and with satoru in takara’s orbit you cannot run again, a chain fastened from your rib to his. you know fucking him would be a reckless idea now, but god, he presses one, slow kiss to the bared skin of your shoulder and your body remembers him. his hips press just slightly further into your ass as he sighs onto the same spot, his breath cooling the heat of his lips where they branded you, his cock alive and right there. but the both of you know it: you are cowards. he untangles himself, and you let him sit back in his chair before moving.

~~~~~~~

SATORU is certain now; you are going to kill him. his grave will be beautiful, he thinks, flowery and green and alive with your energy, but his autopsy will have your name all over it, your lipstick.

he supposes, for his part, that much of your proximity is his fault. a stronger man wouldn’t have stayed in your apartment past takara’s waking hours, used his hands to guide you on the sidewalk, held your hips to his cock in his office windowsill earlier today. and satoru has lived a life of self restraint, has been a shackled man to his own whipping post, but he has found himself helpless to the feeling of your body on his skin.

he had been so irreparably hurt when he saw you in the park that day, or at least it had felt that way at the time. something grew in him then, a tumor with teeth, and he was certain it could never feel the same with you as it once had, that he would withhold something precious from you forever in some lasting spiteful act of defiance. and nevermind the fact that even hours later he moved to hold you, could barely restrain the instinct to kiss you again, was never even angry: for about 24 hours, satoru was sure that he would never be in love with you again.

but even the sharp canines of that wound have dulled with weeks of your presence. the smell of you on your couch when he lays on it, the afternoon scenery of you playing with takara in the park curtained by your vines, your laugh in his office, by your door, in his head. you are an apparition haunting him, one he can touch, and it’s killing him. 

and he knows he should not pursue anything with you. he knows you know this, too. your nebulous reconnection is unsteady at best—a strange amalgam of your old intimacy and the people you’ve become—and access to takara is too important to him to risk. and neither of you would say this, but the fact of your leaving in high school remains a reminder that at any moment you are capable of disappearing again. it’s something satoru always loved about you, actually. you make your own life wherever you step. what a beautiful thing you are. 

he feels ridiculous for thinking of you as often as he does. but how could he not? he visits at least daily to spend time with his son and you are always there, a vision. he sees you in takara, too, his little love. when he tries to explain how to use limitless, takara bears down into himself, thinking to the point of exhaustion. he has gotten that from you, satoru knows.

but it wasn’t a conscious thought that satoru has begun falling back into love with you—or, really, that he has plummeted into the well of it—until today, seeing you laugh with megumi . tsumiki had pointed at you from behind your back: she’s so pretty! and he had nodded without thought, proud as if you were his to boast for. and then, your teasing voice nipping at his heels as he brought you to his office, he realized that he was yours. he should have known some time in the thousand minutes he’s spent feeding your koi.

the smell of your cooking wafts into your living room as he reads to takara on his lap. you’re humming that song from earlier, it could happen to you, and the domesticity makes him beam like an idiot. yes, he thinks, that’s about the most succinct way to put it; he is an idiot for you. takara points to the page and reads a sentence himself.

“yes!” satoru encourages.

“don’t yell,” takara says, patting satoru’s leg as though he’d worked himself up.

“yessir.”

“come in to eat!” you call from the kitchen. takara scrambles to the sound of your voice and satoru is no better. the three of you settle to the table, takara’s legs dangling in his chair, and satoru knows he shouldn’t but he presses his foot to yours under the table. you give him a look, fleeting and knowing, but you don’t move. takara eats exactly the way you do, and satoru wonders whether you’ve noticed.

“what time do you go into work tomorrow?”

“i’m opening, actually, so i’ll head to the cafe early,” you grumble. “i’ll take my lunch break at 8 to take takara to preschool.” 

satoru shakes his head. “i don’t have any missions until the afternoon. why don’t i take him?”

“i don’t have an extra key for you.”

“he could sleep over,” takara offers, barely looking up from his food. you look startled by the suggestion, at first, and satoru is sure he looks much the same, but when the shock subsides he cannot help the little grin that tugs his lips up. you cock your head minutely, but he’s known you long enough to know you mean: don’t push it. 

“bubba, there isn’t enough space,” you explain. 

you had told satoru early on that you started in a one bedroom, fixed a nursery in most of it and fit yourself on a twin bed in the corner. when the owner of the cafe retired, though, she had let you have the place. you made enough now to scrape by with two bedrooms; satoru remembers how dignified you were to recount the whole thing, how hard it was not to kiss you when you smiled in your own self-satisfaction. 

“why can’t he sleep in your room?” takara asks. satoru smiles bigger, nudges your foot under the table. 

“because he…can’t.” you’re becoming flustered now and it only thrills him more.

“i really would like to take him,” he offers, though the sincerity is cut with the sound of his smirk.

you run your hands over your face, mumble out a little groan that softens into a hum at the end, but still your foot doesn’t move away from the press of satoru’s under the shadow of the kitchen table. 

“don’t you need to get home to megumi and tsumiki?”

satoru is beaming like he’s already won. he has. “they have a sitter.”

your head tips back as you say, mostly to the ceiling, “fine. but you’re sleeping on the couch.”

and truthfully he doesn’t mind much at all. he is voracious for more time with takara, for more time in your space, for benign moments you might take for granted. he wants to brush his son’s teeth at night and fix his hair in the morning. he taps your foot one more time: thank you. and you nod, almost imperceptibly: you’re welcome. 

~~~~~~~

as much as YOU might have resisted it, there really was about an hour or so when letting satoru sleep on your couch seemed like a good idea. it felt, if you can admit it, easy, the both of you moving around one another as the evening twilight overtook the windows. and it was so plain to see on takara’s face that he was pleased, too, to have you both here. sitting on the edge of his bed together as you tucked him in, watching his first few moments of sleep, made space for a new sort of intimacy. when satoru reached for your hand in the dark you did not pull away.

of course, you regret it now. maybe you’ll regret it forever. by the time you’re brushing your teeth you know you have made an error of cosmic proportions. some time between settling blankets on the couch and joining you in the bathroom satoru had unbuttoned most of his shirt and removed his belt, sidling next to you at the sink with the spare toothbrush you gave him like you weren’t a moment from dropping dead on the counter. you’re too afraid to look at yourself in the mirror; you already know your cheeks are red, that he can feel the rush of your blood in your jugular from inches away. 

“you seem uptight,” he says, though it comes out foamy around the toothpaste in his mouth.

“i’m not used to having people over.” you can’t look anywhere but the porcelain of the sink, too petrified of what you’d say if you looked at him in full. you remember this afternoon in his office and shift on your weight a little.

“you don’t have a lot of sleepovers?” he asks through a grin.

you’re so focused on not making eye contact with him in the mirror that you answer him honestly. “i don’t have any.”

you hear his toothbrush stop. he spits in the sink before leaning on it to face you. “what do you mean you don’t have any?”

you take a deep breath before turning. god he’s so pretty, even more stunning like this, a little unspooled. “what do you want me to say? i’ve never had anyone else to take care of takara. it’s not like i can…” you don’t even know how to end that sentence.

the teasing look leaks from satoru’s face slowly. he asks you with more earnestness than you think you can stand: “have you not had sex since high school?”

it’s not even fully out of his mouth before you’re pushing past him and out of the bathroom but he is relentless behind you—he always was—and you feel him an inch from your back as you walk towards your bedroom door.

“wait a second—”

“satoru, i’m not talking about this with you.”

“no, but i’m being serious.”

“so am i!” you turn at your door and try not to shudder at how close he is. his eyes glow in the low light, a man made of comets.

“i just,” he huffs a little, “i feel bad, i guess.”

“what?”

“well you—you’ve been taking care of takara alone all this time and you haven’t gotten…you haven’t gotten to do—”

“satoru, i don’t need your pity about my sex life, okay?”

“but that’s my point! it’s not just about your sex life, it’s—it’s everything.” he ruffles the back of his head, almost embarrassed, you think. “i feel bad that you’ve been alone all this time.”

you kick your heel against the door behind you to ground yourself. “it’s my fault, isn’t it?” and it comes out a little small, more pathetic than you’ve ever heard yourself. satoru buckles with it.

“baby,” he starts, and you think his hand flexes to reach for you, but you put your palm on his chest to keep him in place. he hasn’t meant to call you that, you know, the endearment from years ago clawing back, finding purchase on his tongue. his heart murmurs like a bird behind his shirt.

“listen, i—i don’t need you to pity me for a decision i made. especially because i don’t regret any of it.”

he breathes out quick, almost angry, but you know not at you. before either of you can stop him, he holds your wrist to keep your hand on him, thumbs your pulse on one side. he does this a lot, you think. you wonder if he knows that you can feel his heartbeat, too, through the pads of his fingers. and there’s a moment, among the sounds of your breathing and the creak of the floorboards under his feet, when you think it is all over, that you’ll let him kiss you against your door. earlier today you felt like a coward for denying him, but that self-flagellation has waned. no, it takes a great deal of courage now to press your hand more firmly into him, to not rise onto your toes and suck at the skin under his jaw.

“goodnight, satoru,” you whisper, and shut yourself into your bedroom before you lose your resolve.

the night is cruel to you. it feels very much like sleeping with a black hole in your living room; you cannot ignore the thought of him draped over your sofa, body too long to fit comfortably. even with your eyes closed you can feel him from a room away. 

you toss under the covers, try to at least become entangled enough in your sheets that you cannot rise from your bed to check on him. you hope he’s fallen asleep by now, that you’re the only one left in this apartment awake.

being alone in the dark gives you more time to think, more time to resolve a decision you cannot yet name. you have been so insistent that to become ensnared again by satoru’s pull would be a mistake, let him leave you at the windowsill, stiff armed him at your door. you wonder whether any of it matters in light of the fact that you are utterly in love with him. of how much consequence could the physical distinction be now? in truth, you can’t tell whether you are freeing yourself from an obsolete stipulation or looking for any reason to abandon it.

in the blue midnight streaking through your curtains you can admit to yourself that a part of you, the fleshy part that wants for things, is simply too afraid that you need satoru more than he needs you, and to reconcile that is a task too treacherous to ask of yourself. what of the moment when, slick with sweat and the smell of sex, you move to kiss him again and he turns away? it’s all hypothetical, of course, but still it plagues you like a memory. and you suppose you have no reason to fear it at all; he has made clear enough that he wants you. 

it almost feels ridiculous to pine so excruciatingly over the father of your child. you’ve already done all of this before, no less as a teenager, and somehow now, a self-actualized adult, you hesitate and turn your knees in. you flip onto your other side with a huff. you’re only in a tanktop and shorts but you feel like you’re suffocating, or worse: something from inside of you is threatening to come loose.

you wonder whether he’s waiting for you in your living room. what a horrific thing to wonder. 

you creak open your door slowly and pad out.

it looks like satoru has given up on sleeping already. he’s sat upright, head tipped over the back of the couch and legs spread, an arm hanging over his eyes. you know he can hear you—you think he might have heard the moment you decided to come out—but he waits for you to address him.

“satoru,” you whisper. at last, he lifts his head, eyes sleepy but undeniably pleased to see you. he pats the spot next to him on the couch as he assesses your mild state of undress and you settle there, facing him. “i can’t sleep.”

he shakes his head. “i can’t either.” though he doesn’t look all that displeased, certainly not as he bends over to collect your legs and drape them over his lap. you let him. you let him drag one enormous hand up your bare leg, too, and he stops just below the knee but still you watch as goosebumps follow his fingers. your body is traitorous but you can’t find it in you to mind.

“when did we get so weird, huh?” he asks you.

“how do you mean?” “sometimes it feels like it used to feel,” he thinks about how you may take that a moment longer, “when we used to be friends.” you nod slowly. “sometimes it feels like i don’t know you at all.” 

honesty looks so pretty on his face. his eyes are slightly narrowed but they’re no less auroral, his lips slightly swollen on the bottom as he bites them between breaths. he points at your nose. “and sometimes, you make that face at me, and i—fuck i mean what am i supposed to do with that?”

you scrunch your nose. “what face am i making?”

“i mean you look—jesus, i don’t know.” he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it further, before continuing, “i just wish you wouldn’t keep thinking in your head.”

you can’t help but laugh softly, bumping your foot into his stomach. “where else am i supposed to think?”

he flails at the sound of your giggle but his lips turn up. “i don’t know! i just spend so much more time now wondering what’s going on in your head. i want to know.” and then, to devastate you further, you imagine, he adds: “you used to tell me.”

you slide a little further into the couch, lay more of your legs’ weight on his lap. he lets his hands drift up to your kneecaps now. “okay, satoru,” you relent. “what do you want to know?”

“you’ll tell me anything?”

“i suppose that’s what i’m offering, yeah.”

he grins. “okay…” he taps his finger on his chin and you snort. “are you still afraid of me being in takara’s life?”

“a little. i’m afraid for both of you. but he…he loves you now, i think. ultimately i’m glad he can know you.”

“what about in your life?”

“what about it?”

“are you glad i’m in your life again?”

you smile, wry. “i think so. even though you torment me and make me spill my secrets.”

he puffs his chest and tugs your legs further into him. you’re almost in his lap, a few inches from it, but whether you notice is a question he decides not to ask. “do you still trust me the way you used to?”

“yes.” you do.

“do you still like me as much?”

“in what way?”

“all of them.”

“you’re greedy,” you whisper.

something punches from satoru’s lungs but you cannot discern what comes out. he says only: “yes, i am. answer me.” 

with a defeated breath you shrug. “yes.” 

his hands have both stalled on your knees, each thumb an omen breaching the threshold of your thigh. your skin twitches, you think, but you can’t look away from his face. he looks like he’s released one foot over the edge of some decision, you can see one teetering moment in the air, and then the resolve sets in.

“do you know how much i still want you?”

your heart kicks. “no,” you confess.

his hands remember themselves again, gripping up your legs higher, higher, now with purpose as they swing around his hips and move you to his lap. straddling him you can feel how hard he is already and you’re certain he can feel your wetness through your shorts, the slick is humiliating and so much. you whine a little and it comes out through your nose. his cock twitches.

“not today in my office?” his right hand cups the back of your neck. “not an hour ago?” your chest rises and falls, stumbling over itself. “you don’t know?”

and you have no faith in your voice now so you only shake your head as much as his hold will allow. he presses his hips into you just once, a fleeting indulgence you’re unsure if he even intended, but you whine again and it looks like it hurts him. 

“let me show you, baby,” he coos, but it’s desperate, too, a prayer into your lips as he brushes his nose against yours. “just one more time.”

you haven’t even finished nodding before you’re kissing him, both of you groaning into the other at the sheer relief of the feeling, his hands grabbing for anything he can reach: around your back, your tit, the globes of your ass to grind you down against him. the fabric of your shorts catches on your clit as it swells and you moan something awful in the back of your throat.

he kisses you like all six years apart demand it, like he can feel how long it’s been in the truest sense, like all at once the wanting has frayed his nerves and your lips cauterize the veins. he bites your lip to make you gasp, taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth as it opens.

you grind your clit onto him again, rubbing little circles on his tip through your clothes and he pants with the pressure. 

“satoru,” you whine, and he ruts up, harder.

“oh, say my name like that again,” he pleads, lips trailing down from your lips to your neck. his tongue streaks hot against your skin, sucking and biting and grinding you onto him like his cock is inside you already.

“satoru,” you repeat, and it comes out clearer without his tongue on yours but just barely. 

“fuck.” he rips your tank top off before attaching to you again, leaving hickies in the hollow of your throat, down over each breast, before taking a nipple into his mouth and laving his tongue there.

your moans almost come out like hums, all strung together, and he preens at the sound of them. you can feel the damp spot on his pants growing as you spread your slick, each wet kiss on your chest demanding a new wave from you. 

“i don’t even need to prep you, do i? you’re already so f–fucking wet,” and he punctuates it with a gyration of his hips that would have made you scream had he not clamped a palm over your mouth. 

you’re almost deaf with the rushing sound of blood in your ears but still you crane to hear him, each filthy utterance a precious thing you covet as he ruts up into you. if you were in your right mind you might find it funny that the experience of dry humping him feels so profound but as it is you can think only of the feeling of his veins through two layers of fabric.

despite how he may have goaded at you he brings one hand down your navel and under your shorts, feeling through your folds and spreading the honey of you further. your mouth is fully dropped open but his hand is large enough to cover it.

“oh, baby—yeah, that’s it, grind on it—you’re dripping for me.” he says it in that pleased way that makes him sound like an animal. you roll your hips onto the pads of his fingers and pleasure shoots up your spine at the rub of them on your clit, around your entrance. he circles his middle finger once before sinking it in and you keen. he holds you still with his other arm, nose pressed to your ear now as he whispers in it.

“f—fuck this pussy is so fucking tight.”

your hole flutters and sucks his digit in and he revels in the grip as he fucks you on it slowly. you try to bounce yourself faster but he squeezes your middle again, bites your pulse as it bumps in your neck. he murmurs there: “let it last,” using his hold to swivel your hips on his hand. your nails grip to his shoulders, surely making marks through his shirt but he lets you, frenetic and buzzing like he gains as much from touching you as you do.

the heel of his palm presses up onto your nub and you bow into him further, and he takes the movement to press another finger alongside the first. something searing and hungry licks up your spine, you’re close already, but there’s no indignity in it. you tug on his hair to bring his face to yours again, pulling back from the hand clamped over your mouth to lick behind his teeth, moaning into his mouth. “cum for me baby, come on,” he encourages.

your eyes squeeze shut as you come undone, heat spasming around his fingers as you soak him to the wrist. “fuck, f–fuck, that’s it,” he curses, mainly to himself, you think. you’re only half-lucid as you come down but you feel him pull his fingers from you and lick them clean, groaning softly around them.

“fuck me, satoru, please.”

his hair doesn’t move as he nods, stuck now to his forehead damp with sweat. neither of you have the patience to remove anything else, simply tugging your shorts to the side and his cock from his pants before you’re dripping right over it. his tip catches on your entrance and you both go half-boneless with the feeling.

when you sink onto him you feel a little like you did in his office earlier in the day. like time has stopped, or maybe like it has all arrived at your fingertips, like you’re everywhere. you remember this feeling, a little bit, but it’s also undeniably new. the stretch burns but you hardly feel it, taking no time before sitting on him to the hilt. your head drops to his shoulder, little pants into his neck, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“fuck you’re so fucking tight, baby, this pussy was made for me,” he chokes into your ear. you each have a handful of the other between your fingers, the lines of your palms tattooing him even through his uniform he still has mostly on. you hope his brand you the same.

all it takes is one, slow pull of your hips before he’s rutting up into you again, not so much ruthless as intense, deep and pregnant with meaning and so precise you wonder whether he’s using his six eyes to assess the inside of you. with one hand he holds your face to his ear to consume your moaning that way. you whine and when he shudders, bucking harder, you whine again.

“o–oh, these sounds are mine, this pussy is mine,” he stutters. the squelch of your cunt sucking him in seems to only encourage him, and you make yourself wetter just hearing it.

“it’s so good, satoru,” you whine.

he laughs softly, manic, “yeah?”

and you only wail quietly again. with each snap of his hips you thrust yourself down, clit throbbing and catching on the little white scratch of his pubic hair, and his other hand, still handled on the plush of your ass, rubs you harder as you move. you vaguely hear your little ah! ah! ah! but mostly you can feel the pleasure building again, can feel the vein down the underside of his cock as you wring him harder.

“hah–i won’t–fuck–i won’t last if you keep squeezing me, baby.”

you only feel encouraged, sliding deeper, revelling more in the slip of your slick as it floods out of you.

“ah–-i’m close, i’m close,” you breathe.

“fuck yeah, i wanna feel you cum on my cock, let go for me.”

and you do. have you ever really denied him? your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your hips buck wildly, the pleasure seizing you from the inside out. satoru moans feeling you ride your high, panting into your ear, “tell me to pull out.”

you shake your head, little smile creeping over your face as he fucks you through your high. “isn’t the damage already done?” you ask breathlessly.

and he can only laugh for a second before his hips stutter and still, pulling you into him like he wants to crawl inside of you and live in your stomach

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

his cum is so hot as it fills you, and so much, your own orgasm jolting you again, exulting in the feeling. 

he drops his forehead to your shoulder now, sweat of your collarbone meeting the beads on his hairline. the sounds of your breathing mix, too; your cum and your hands and your warmth, all of it intertwined with his, maybe forever. he kisses you one more time, sated now, along a hickey he’d left on your neck before. you return one to the corner of his mouth.

he doesn’t say anything when he sits up straight again, supporting the wings of your shoulders with his hands. there is only that look on his face, a cousin to the one you saw the first day he found you and takara, but so recognizably relieved this time: everything is different now.

~~~~~~~

sss taglist:

@emochosoluvr @por0u @vraiao @voidfulcrumdilemma @vaniyeiszero @missingnozw @crowroakchi @seikamuzu @anonymous-3846 @asahinasstuff @kunisnaomi @bl6o6dy @meanderingwistera @lilac-heartz @acowboykisser @miiikooooooo @missingnozw @heiranni @sadmonke @alicebleu @sanchann @splinx04real @lolllllllllllllliiiiiii @eggrollforyou @updated-version @yaurss @khaleesihavilliard @mizzowizzo @mierins @eolivy @spencerreidisagorgman @dahliadaenerys @cantchooseanctbias @fallenfromgrxce @theclassbookworm @liestel @jiasdream @maddy24207 @valoriya @19catspiledontopofeachother @hbhbhbhbhby @bijuu-naginata @jv5t4g1rl @bobagang @thraxpatty @muscovitechick

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 21: Pack Cardio

The moment Yeosang's door closed upstairs, the living room fell into an awkward silence broken only by the sound of Wooyoung dramatically throwing himself back onto the couch.

"Well," he announced to the ceiling, "that escalated quickly."

"Wooyoung," Seonghwa warned from the kitchen doorway, though his own nostrils were flaring slightly as the combined scents of aroused omega and claiming alpha began to drift through the house.

"What? I'm just saying! One minute they're having a nice literary afternoon, the next minute our quiet little Yeosang is going full possessive alpha and dragging our mate upstairs like—"

"Like what?" San asked, appearing from the direction of the stairs looking slightly dazed. His enhanced alpha hearing had clearly picked up more than he bargained for.

"Like a romance novel hero!" Wooyoung finished dramatically. "I'm so proud. Our little bookworm finally grew some claws!"

A muffled sound from upstairs made all four alphas in the living room freeze. Hongjoong, who had been trying to read emails on his phone, closed his eyes and took a deliberately slow breath.

"This is fine," he muttered to himself. "This is completely normal. Mates. In our house. Being... mated."

"Is anyone else finding it very hard to concentrate right now?" Jongho asked quietly, his voice strained as he gripped the arm of his chair.

"The scent," Yunho said from where he'd appeared in the doorway, his eyes slightly unfocused. "It's... intense."

Wooyoung sat up suddenly, sniffing the air with exaggerated movements. "Oh my GOD, you're right. It's like... happiness and jasmine and— satisfied omega."

"Wooyoung!" Seonghwa hissed, though his own control was clearly being tested as he unconsciously moved closer to the stairs.

"I'm just appreciating the experience!" Wooyoung defended. "This is educational! Scientific! I'm learning about pack dynamics!"

Another sound from upstairs—definitely your voice this time—made Mingi appear from the kitchen looking like he'd been punched. "I'm going for a run," he announced abruptly.

"Good idea," Hongjoong said immediately. "Long run. Very long run."

"I'll come with you," San added quickly, already heading for the door.

"Make that four," Yunho called, following them. "Y/n is becoming incredibly valuable to our cardio."

Wooyoung watched four of his packmates flee the house before turning to the remaining alphas with theatrical despair. "Am I the only one with any self-control here? Any emotional maturity? Any—OH HOLY MOLY THAT WAS LOUD."

He promptly buried his face in a couch cushion.

"That's it," Seonghwa announced, his composed facade finally cracking. "I'm going to meditate. Very intensely. With noise-canceling headphones."

"Can I join your meditation session?" Jongho asked hopefully.

"Absolutely not. Find your own coping mechanism."

As Seonghwa stalked toward his room, Jongho looked around the now mostly empty living room before grabbing the TV remote with grim determination.

"Action movies," he muttered to himself. "Very loud action movies. With explosions."

Wooyoung lifted his head from the cushion long enough to give him a thumbs up. "Good strategy. I'm going to lie here and contemplate the cruel irony of being surrounded by my mate's happiness while being unable to participate."

"You could go for a run too," Jongho suggested, turning the volume up considerably.

"And miss this?" Wooyoung gestured wildly toward the ceiling. "The mating habits of bookish alphas in their natural environment!"

"You're insane."

"I'm INVESTED in their relationship success!" Wooyoung declared, then immediately dove back into the cushions as another particularly clear sound drifted down. "But maybe also a little dead inside."

The opening explosions of Jongho's action movie filled the air, providing blessed auditory cover for whatever was happening upstairs. Both remaining alphas settled in for what was clearly going to be a very long evening of aggressive distraction techniques.

"Next time," Wooyoung said conversationally, his voice muffled by the cushion, "I'm investing in better soundproofing. For my mental health."

"Next time," Jongho replied, eyes fixed determinedly on the screen, "we're installing a separate wing for private time."

"With industrial-grade ventilation systems."

"And really, really loud ceiling fans."

Another explosion from the TV masked whatever response they might have heard from upstairs, and both alphas silently agreed that action movies would be their new favorite genre.

*****

Yeosang held you against his chest as the aftershocks faded, his hands gently smoothing over your bare back, breath syncing with yours as your heartbeat slowed. He brushed damp hair from your forehead and pressed a kiss there, lingering.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, voice worry-soft but full of awe, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles along your spine.

"Mmm. Never better," you murmured, nuzzling into his shoulder, boneless and utterly safe. You could feel the smile against your hair as Yeosang wrapped both arms around you, cocooning you in warmth and careful strength.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, simply holding you close, his scent mingled with yours in the cool darkness. Then, softer still: "You're incredible. You know that, right?"

You managed a sleepy smile. "Only because you see me that way."

He let out a quiet laugh, so affectionate it warmed you from the inside out. "No—because that's exactly what you are. I… I've never felt this close to anyone."

You looked up, caught his gaze, and felt your heart stutter at the vulnerability there. "Me neither. I like… being yours, Yeosang."

His breath caught, the words hitting him somewhere deep. He answered with another gentle kiss, tender and slow, before tucking you back beneath the covers. "Rest, angel. I've got you."

You yawned, drifting as his fingers stroked lazy shapes along your skin. "Stay?"

"Always," he promised. And he did, until your eyelids fluttered shut, your breathing deep and soft, finally lulled to sleep in his arms.

Yeosang lay there a little longer, just listening to your quiet breaths, his hand protectively spanning your waist.

After a while, he slipped from the bed, dressing quietly. He hesitated in the soft light, smiling over your sleeping form—so peaceful, so wholly his. Then, padding softly down the hallway, he made his way to the kitchen, mind still humming with the memory of your touch, your scent, and the words you'd let him claim.

---

The living room was still glowing with the blue light of Jongho's action movie when Yeosang descended the stairs, though the volume had been mercifully lowered. Wooyoung was sprawled across one end of the couch, no longer hiding behind cushions but instead lounging with the satisfied air of someone who had thoroughly enjoyed the evening's entertainment. Jongho sat rigidly upright in his chair, determinedly focused on the screen where explosions continued to light up the night.

Both alphas' heads turned immediately when Yeosang appeared, their enhanced senses picking up the combined scents that clung to him—satisfaction, contentment, and the unmistakable proof of a thoroughly claimed omega.

Wooyoung's face immediately split into the most delighted grin Yeosang had ever seen.

"Well, well, well," Wooyoung practically purred, sitting up with theatrical slowness. "Look who's finally emerged from his literary den of passion."

Yeosang paused halfway to the kitchen, color rising to his cheeks as he realized there was no hiding what had transpired upstairs. "Wooyoung—"

"Oh no, don't 'Wooyoung' me," he interrupted with a dramatic wave of his hand. "I am LIVING for this character development. Quiet, bookish Yeosang discovers his inner alpha and claims his mate with such enthusiasm that half our pack fled the premises in terror."

Jongho made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh or a cry for help, his face turning steadily redder as he kept his eyes glued to the TV screen.

"You should be proud!" Wooyoung continued, hopping up from the couch to follow Yeosang into the kitchen. "I mean, the passion! The intensity! The way you just growled at me and dragged her upstairs like some kind of—"

"Please stop talking," Jongho called from the living room, his voice slightly higher than usual.

"Like some kind of romance novel alpha!" Wooyoung finished triumphantly, completely ignoring Jongho's plea. "I'm getting secondhand satisfaction just from witnessing your happiness. It's beautiful. Inspiring."

Yeosang had reached the refrigerator and was pulling out a bottle of water with hands that were definitely not shaking. "I just came down for water."

"Water," Wooyoung repeated with obvious amusement. "Yes, hydration is very important after such... vigorous literary discussions."

"Oh my god," came Jongho's mortified voice from the other room.

"What? I'm being supportive!" Wooyoung called back before turning his attention back to Yeosang, who was drinking water with the focused concentration of someone trying very hard to ignore the conversation happening around him.

"So," Wooyoung continued conversationally, hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter, "on a scale of one to ten, how completely ruined are you for anyone else? Because honestly, the scent of satisfied omega has been driving us all absolutely feral, and I'm just wondering if we should prepare for more emergency runs in the future."

Yeosang nearly choked on his water. "Wooyoung!"

"I'm asking the important questions! For pack management purposes! Seonghwa would want to know these things for schedule planning!"

Before Yeosang could formulate a response to that particular brand of logic, the front door opened and four very windswept alphas stumbled inside, clearly having run much further and harder than any sane person would on a casual evening jog.

Mingi collapsed against the door frame, Hongjoong on the couch, breathing hard. San bent over with his hands on his knees, while Yunho leaned against the wall looking like he'd just finished a marathon.

"Did we run enough?" Yunho panted. "Please tell me we ran enough."

Wooyoung leaned around the kitchen doorway to survey the returning runners with obvious delight. "Judging by the fact that you all look like you've been fleeing a natural disaster, I'd say you ran the appropriate amount."

"Is it safe?" San asked between breaths. "Are they... done?"

"Our darling Yeosang just came down for water," Wooyoung reported cheerfully. "Looking thoroughly satisfied and glowing with post-coital bliss. So yes, I'd say the immediate crisis has passed."

Hongjoong, who had maintained his composure better than the other three runners, straightened and fixed Wooyoung with a look. "Where's Y/n?"

"Sleeping peacefully upstairs," Yeosang answered quietly, his voice carrying a note of possessive satisfaction that made all the alphas in the room shift uncomfortably. "In my bed."

"Right," Hongjoong said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Okay. We need to... we need to figure something out. Because if every individual bonding session is going to affect the pack this intensely, we're all going to lose our minds."

"Agreed," Seonghwa's voice came from the stairs as he descended, looking like he'd just emerged from the most stressful meditation session of his life. "I could hear everything even with noise-canceling headphones."

"See?" Wooyoung said, gesturing broadly. "This is what I mean about the soundproofing. It's a real issue."

"It's not just the sound," Mingi said, finally catching his breath enough to speak properly. "It's the scent. The... energy. It's like the house itself was vibrating with satisfaction."

"Very poetic," Wooyoung observed.

Hongjoong looked around at his pack—exhausted from running, frazzled from failed meditation, and generally looking like they'd all been through some kind of ordeal—and made a decision.

"This can't continue," he said firmly. "We need a better solution than half the pack fleeing the house every time two of us are intimate."

"Actually," Wooyoung said, suddenly sitting up straighter with an expression that suggested he'd just had a revelation, "I have an idea."

"Oh no," Jongho muttered from the living room.

"No, hear me out," Wooyoung continued, hopping down from the counter with renewed energy. "The problem isn't that they're being intimate. The problem is that we're not bonded enough to handle it properly."

"What do you mean?" Seonghwa asked, though his tone suggested he suspected where this was going.

"I mean," Wooyoung said, spreading his arms as if the solution was obvious, "we complete the bond. All of us. Full mating claim."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Think about it," Wooyoung continued, apparently taking their stunned silence as encouragement. "Right now, we're all partially bonded but not claimed. So when two people are intimate, the rest of us feel left out, possessive, confused. But if we all have an equal claim, if we're all fully mated, then instead of feeling excluded, we'd feel... included. Like their happiness is our happiness."

"That's..." Yunho started, then stopped, clearly working through the logic.

"That's actually not completely insane," Hongjoong finished, sounding surprised.

"See?" Wooyoung beamed. "I have my moments of brilliance. We just need to make it official. Full pack bond, complete mating claim. Then instead of running away when two of us are together, we can all just bask in the collective satisfaction like a proper pack."

"You're suggesting we all mate with her," San said slowly, as if making sure he understood correctly.

"I'm suggesting we formalize what's already happening," Wooyoung corrected. "We're already her mates. The bonds are already there. We just need to make it official so our alphas stop freaking out every time someone else gets lucky."

Yeosang, who had been quietly listening to this entire exchange while leaning against the kitchen counter, finally spoke up. "She'd have to agree to it."

"Well, obviously," Wooyoung said with a dismissive wave. "We're not cavemen. But considering how happy she looked being thoroughly claimed by you tonight, I'm thinking she might be amenable to the idea."

"This is a huge decision," Hongjoong said seriously. "A full pack mating bond is... permanent. Life-changing. We can't just spring it on her because we're having trouble with jealousy."

"True," Wooyoung agreed. "But we also can't keep pretending this is a temporary arrangement. She's not going anywhere, we're not going anywhere, and our alphas are only going to get more possessive as time goes on. Better to deal with it properly now than wait until someone actually loses their mind."

The logic was sound, even if it was coming from Wooyoung in his typical dramatic fashion. Around the room, you could see the others processing the idea, weighing the implications.

"It would solve the territorial issues," Yunho said thoughtfully.

"And the scent confusion," Mingi added.

"Plus," Wooyoung said with a grin, "think of how happy she'd be. Eight alphas all officially, completely devoted to her happiness and satisfaction. What omega wouldn't want that?"

"We'd need to discuss it with her properly," Seonghwa said, his practical mind already working through the logistics. "Make sure she understands what it means, what we're offering."

"And that she wants it," Hongjoong added firmly. "This only works if everyone is completely willing."

"Oh, she wants it," Wooyoung said with complete confidence. "Trust me. I have excellent instincts about these things."

"Your instincts once told you that putting pineapple on pizza was a good idea," Jongho called from the living room.

"That was completely different!" Wooyoung protested. "And pineapple pizza is delicious! Don't change the subject!"

Despite the teasing, the idea was taking root. You could see it in their faces—the possibility of finally formalizing what they all felt, of creating a bond that would make sense of the complex emotions and territorial instincts they'd been struggling with.

"So," Hongjoong said slowly, "we talk to her. All of us. Make sure she understands what we're offering and what it would mean."

"And if she says yes?" San asked.

Hongjoong looked around at his pack—exhausted, confused, but unified in their love for you and their desire to build something lasting together.

"If she says yes," he said finally, "then we give her everything. Complete devotion, full claim, the kind of bond that legends are made of."

"Perfect," Wooyoung said with satisfaction. "Operation Claim Our Omega is officially a go."

"We are not calling it that," Seonghwa said immediately.

"Operation Formalize Our Feelings?"

"No."

"The Great Mating Initiative?"

"Absolutely not."

"Fine," Wooyoung sighed dramatically. "But when this works and we're all blissfully happy and properly bonded, I want full credit for the brilliant idea."

"You'll get credit," Hongjoong assured him with a small smile. "Assuming she says yes."

"She'll say yes," Wooyoung said with complete confidence. "Trust me. I know our omega. She wants this just as much as we do."

Looking around the room at seven alphas who were all nodding in agreement, Yeosang couldn't help but think that Wooyoung might actually be right for once. The bond was already there—they just needed to make it official.

And judging by the way you'd responded to him tonight, the way you'd surrendered so completely to being claimed and cherished, he had a feeling you'd be more than ready to take that final step with all of them.

"Tomorrow," Hongjoong decided. "We talk to her tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," the others agreed, and for the first time all evening, the house felt peaceful again—filled with anticipation rather than frustration, hope rather than confusion.

Tomorrow, they'd offer you everything. And hopefully, you'd say yes.

——

After the pack meeting concluded, Yeosang had quietly made his way back upstairs, his heart full of anticipation for what tomorrow might bring. The house had finally settled into peaceful quiet, the earlier chaos replaced by hopeful planning and shared understanding.

He slipped back into his room to find you exactly as he'd left you—curled up in his bed, breathing softly, looking utterly content in the cocoon of his sheets that now smelled like both of you. The sight made something warm and possessive unfurl in his chest.

Carefully, so as not to wake you, Yeosang undressed and slid back under the covers, immediately pulling you against his chest. You stirred slightly, a soft sound of contentment escaping your lips as you instinctively nestled closer to his warmth.

"Yeosang?" you murmured sleepily, not quite awake but sensing his presence.

"I'm here," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your hair. "Go back to sleep, angel."

You hummed in response, your arm sliding around his waist as you settled back into deep sleep. Yeosang lay there for a long time, just holding you, his mind drifting between memories of the evening and anticipation of the conversation they'd have with you tomorrow. Eventually, lulled by your steady breathing and the rightness of having you in his arms, he drifted off to sleep.

---

You woke slowly, consciousness returning gradually as you became aware of the warm body pressed against your back, the strong arm wrapped securely around your waist, and the familiar scent of bergamot and books that could only belong to Yeosang. A smile tugged at your lips as memories of the previous evening came flooding back—the bookstore, the ride home, the way he'd claimed you so thoroughly that you'd fallen asleep still trembling with satisfaction.

You were just beginning to stretch languidly in his arms when you became aware of another presence in the room. Opening your eyes fully, you found yourself staring directly into Wooyoung's bright, mischievous face. He was lying on his side on top of the covers, his head propped up on his hand, watching you with obvious delight.

The moment your eyes focused on him, his face split into the most ridiculous grin and he gave you a slow, exaggerated eyebrow wiggle that was so absurdly theatrical you couldn't help but burst into giggles.

"Good morning, Tulip," Wooyoung said cheerfully, his voice pitched just loud enough to wake the alpha behind you. "Sleep well? Dream of anything... educational?"

Behind you, Yeosang's arm tightened protectively around your waist as he was pulled from sleep by your laughter and Wooyoung's voice. A low groan rumbled from his chest as he realized what was happening.

"Wooyoung," Yeosang's voice was rough with sleep and exasperation, "what are you doing in my bed?"

"Technically, I'm on top of your bed, not in it," Wooyoung replied with mock seriousness. "Very important distinction. I'm respecting boundaries while also being adorably intrusive."

"How long have you been watching us sleep?" you asked, still giggling at his antics while trying to pull the sheet higher to maintain some modesty.

"Oh, only about ten minutes," Wooyoung said with a dismissive wave. "And I wasn't watching you sleep, I was waiting for you to wake up. Much less creepy."

"It's literally the same thing," Yeosang pointed out, though his tone had shifted from exasperation to fond amusement as your continued giggles made it impossible to stay truly annoyed.

"Semantics," Wooyoung dismissed airily. "The point is, I bring news! Important pack business! Time-sensitive information!"

"What time is it?" Yeosang asked, reaching blindly for his phone on the nightstand.

"Time for a pack meeting!" Wooyoung announced before Yeosang could find his phone. "Everyone's gathering downstairs to discuss very important matters that definitely cannot wait for you two to finish your post-coital cuddle session."

"Post-coital?" you repeated with a laugh, your cheeks flushing at his blunt terminology.

"Very fancy words for someone who couldn't spell 'sophisticated' last week," Yeosang observed dryly.

"Hey! I've been expanding my vocabulary!" Wooyoung protested. "Seonghwa gave me a word-a-day calendar. Very educational. Yesterday's word was 'perspicacious.'"

"Do you know what it means?" you asked with amusement.

"Having keen insight," Wooyoung replied promptly, then grinned. "And perspicaciously speaking, I can tell that you two had a very good time last night based on the way you're both glowing and the fact that your scents are so mixed together I can't tell where one ends and the other begins."

Yeosang made a sound that was half groan, half laugh. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming," Wooyoung corrected. "Now come on, pack meeting time! Everyone's waiting!"

"Can't the pack meeting wait until we're dressed?" you asked reasonably.

Wooyoung's grin turned absolutely wicked. "Clothing optional, actually. Very progressive of us, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not," Yeosang said immediately, his arm tightening around you possessively. "You can wait downstairs while we get dressed."

"But I'm comfortable here," Wooyoung whined, making himself more comfortable on the bed. "Besides, after last night's audio-visual experience, I think we're all past the point of being shy around each other."

"Audio-visual experience?" you squeaked, your face turning an even deeper shade of red.

"Oh yes," Wooyoung said with obvious delight. "The whole house got a very thorough education in the mating habits of of you two. Very informative. Jongho nearly had a heart attack."

"Oh my god," you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

"Don't be embarrassed!" Wooyoung said quickly, his tone shifting to something more genuinely reassuring. "It was beautiful! Inspiring! The scent of happy omega had us all practically floating on clouds of secondhand satisfaction!"

"That's not helping," Yeosang pointed out, though he was rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"I'm being supportive about your romantic success!"

"You're being a menace," Yeosang corrected, but his tone was fond. "Now get out so we can get dressed for this pack meeting."

"Fine, fine," Wooyoung sighed dramatically, rolling off the bed with exaggerated reluctance. "But first..."

Before either you or Yeosang could react, Wooyoung was leaning over you, his hand gently cupping your face as he pressed his lips to yours. What started as what you expected to be a playful peck transformed into something deeper, more intense. His mouth moved against yours with surprising tenderness, passionate yet reverent, as if he was pouring all of his affection for you into the contact.

Your head spun from the sudden shift, the unexpected intimacy making your heart race and your omega purr with delight. Without conscious thought, your hand reached up to fist in his shirt, trying to pull him closer, your omega instincts suddenly demanding more contact, more connection with this alpha who was kissing you like you were something precious.

"Wooyoung," you breathed against his lips, your voice carrying a note of need that made both alphas in the room go very still.

Wooyoung pulled back slowly, his eyes dark with desire but also filled with such tender affection it made your chest tight. "Good morning, beautiful," he whispered, his thumb stroking across your cheek before he straightened up.

Behind you, Yeosang's arm had tightened possessively around your waist, though his expression showed more understanding than jealousy as he watched the exchange.

"Now that," Wooyoung said with a satisfied grin, though his voice was slightly rougher than usual, "was a proper good morning. Much better than my eyebrow wiggle, don't you think?"

You could only stare at him, still slightly dazed from the kiss and the way your omega had responded so immediately to his touch.

"You're definitely a menace," Yeosang said, but there was warmth in his voice as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, grounding you.

"But I'm your menace," Wooyoung replied cheerfully, heading for the door. "Now seriously, get dressed. Important pack business waits for no one, not even thoroughly satisfied mates who've just been properly kissed."

He paused at the threshold to look back with a grin that was somehow both mischievous and genuinely happy.

"For what it's worth," he said, his voice losing some of its theatrical edge, "you two look really happy together. It's nice seeing our quiet alpha finally getting properly appreciated."

The genuine warmth in his words made your heart flutter, and you saw Yeosang's expression soften considerably.

"Thank you, Wooyoung," you said sincerely.

"Don't mention it. Now seriously, get dressed. Hongjoong's already on his second cup of coffee, which means he's reached maximum leader patience levels."

With that warning, Wooyoung disappeared down the hallway, his cheerful humming fading as he made his way back downstairs.

"He's absolutely insane," Yeosang said with a mixture of exasperation and affection.

"But he's our insane," you replied, turning in his arms to face him properly. "And he's right—we should probably get downstairs before Hongjoong reaches his limit."

"Probably," Yeosang agreed, though he made no move to let you go. Instead, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "Good morning, by the way."

"Good morning," you replied with a smile that was pure contentment. "Last night was..."

"Perfect," he finished for you, his own smile soft and satisfied. "Absolutely perfect."

"Now come on," you said, reluctantly pulling away from his warmth. "Let's go see what this mysterious pack meeting is about."

As you both began the process of finding clothes and making yourselves presentable, you couldn't help but wonder what could be so important that it required an immediate pack meeting. But judging by Wooyoung's excitement and the way he'd talked about "important pack business," you had a feeling it was going to be something significant.

"Ready?" Yeosang asked, holding out his hand once you were both dressed.

"Ready," you confirmed, taking his hand and letting him lead you toward whatever awaited you downstairs.

Though judging by the butterflies in your stomach and the anticipation in Yeosang's eyes, you suspected your life was about to change in a very big way.

Next>>

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[sucker4vy]

BUSY WOMAN, UNLESS YOU CALL TONIGHT .ᐟ

PAIRING: pedro pascal x actress!reader

SYNOPSIS: Pedro and the reader have been caught together multiple times, and now, all eyes are on them more than ever after she’s spotted leaving his apartment. Though she hasn’t said or made the relationship official, she finally breaks her silence at the Gladiator II premiere when an interviewer asks about the recent sighting.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, age gap (reader is in her mid-late twenties), confusing!pedro, situationship, not technically a smau but does include comments and a few posts, the media is obsessed with reader and pedro, eventual smut, no use of yn (except for posts)

WC: 3.2k

A/N: not me taking a whole other day to finish it 😶 honestly this could’ve been so much longer than it was but next time just watch i’ll make it longer

series masterlist | next chapter

Pedro rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you to the door. He twists the lock and swings it open for you like the gentleman he always is.

As you’re about to step outside, you feel his hand slowly slip away, but it pauses when you do. Turning back to him, you ask, “I’ll see you at the premiere?” Accompanied by an awkward smile.

It’s a question you probably shouldn’t have asked, and judging by his expression, it’s one he’s caught off guard by. “You’re going?” He asks.

“I have nothing else to do that day.” You shy away from him. It was a lie but it’s one that would convince him the most.

Yet for some reason, it still didn't seem to work because disbelief flashed across, quickly replaced by skepticism. “You? Not busy?” You nod curiously at his reaction. “I don’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” You laugh softly to yourself and you see his lips twitch, but he’s back to his serious—no, trying to be serious self.

But he can’t help it when the room is filled with silence for another second and then he cracks. He bursts into a hearty laughter and his hand glides up to your nape, guiding your head toward his for a quick peck on the lips.

“Now, I do.” His gaze lingers on your lips, debating whether or not he should steal another kiss—just one last one. You push away before he can lean in again.

Before you turn around he catches a glimpse of a little cheesy grin on your face. “Goodnight, Pedro.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he replies. You look back at him once more as you walk away ever so slowly and you catch him eyeing your body. He notices your figure shift and is quick to look around, suddenly fascinated by his apartment complex. A hand over his mouth and body leaning against the door frame, caught in the act.

You can’t help but giggle at his little sneaky act and you’re pretty sure it’s just as funny to him too because you hear a muffled laugh from behind you. You’ll definitely tease him later about checking you out.

When you step out of the building, you feel the cool air kiss your skin, and you can’t help but wish you had covered up a little more. A skirt was not the best choice for tonight, something you realized a little too late.

In the corner of your eye, you see a white flash. Your eyes widen in surprise as you turn to confront the source, only to find yourself staring directly at a phone.

You move to push the phone out of your face so that you're able to get a look at the actual source, but before you can fully get a good look at their appearance, they're unning for dear life.

In the moment, it’s funny and you scoff at their idiocy, and in that same moment, it hits you. It his you like a ton of bricks.

It feels like everything has slowed down as your mind movesq quick, a thousand thoughts per second, a million of all the possible outcomes run through your head.

Where you are, where you’re standing outside of more specifically Pedro Pascal’s apartment. That photo incriminates you and it’ll prove something that you’ve been trying to keep hidden from the media and yourself.

Behind you, you hear doors open and close, heavy footsteps on pavement, and then a hand on your shoulder. Your head spins around so fast you felt as though you were going to get whiplash.

“Woah, did I scare you?” There’s a teasting lilt in his voice but when he sees your expression, his smile dims. “Is something wrong?”

You exhale deeply to calm your nerves. “I think we’ve been caught.”

—

Different brushes glide over your face, blenders dabbing under your eye, and fingertips gliding over your nose to blend in the highlighter as much as it needed to look perfect.

Your makeup artist, Estelle, who had been all cheery and so talkative seconds ago, is now quiet, focused on her canvas, ensuring everything is flawless. She only speaks when she needs you to tilt your chin up a little or to look that way or this way.

When she’s finished she spins your chair around so that you face her, grabbing you chin gently for you to look at her. Her hand lifts from your chin and ghosts over your nose, drawing back with an unsureness, eyes squinting.

Her face quickly brightens with a loving smile. “You’re all finished!” She spins my chair back around, now facing the vanity. I meet my reflection and I admire Estelle’s work, which she killed like always. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she asks, “You like?”

“I love.” You look up at her with a smile, one that’s genuine but fragile as well.

“You know, this whole time I’ve been doing your glam you’ve been kind of tense, what’s up?” She smirks as if she knows something you don't. “It’s Pedro, huh?”

“No, no, no,” you’re quick to deny. “It’s not Pedro.” Estelle gives you a ‘are you kidding me’ kind of look because the both you know damn well that Pedro Pascal is the reason.

Estelle sighs, walking over to where your dress is hanging. “I know about that whole ordeal, honey. You can’t fool me.” She ushers you to stand up with hand gestures and pushes the dress into your hands. You don’t move from where you stand, only staring down at your dress.

It’s beautiful, bold. Designer? Alexander McQueen. It’s silk and corseted. Though it doesn't really go with the theme of the movie, it’s still a fantastic choice.

It commands attention without screaming for it. It’ll make her stand out on her own terms and possibly, hopefully, draw away attention from all the rumors going around. Maybe everyone will be too focused on her dress and forget about all the times the paparazzi have caught you with Pedro.

But let’s be realistic, you’ll be at the Gladiator II premiere, Pedro’s movie. They’ll be focused less on your dress and more on your appearance, but lucky for you, you have an excuse for that. You’ll say you’re there to meet with the director, that you’re thinking about working with him. You just hope they’ll believe it.

Walking out of the bathroom, you’re met face to face with your assistant, Daphne, whom you call Daph for short. She gives you a once-over and nods her head, looking around and saying, “I don’t know if Pedro’s going to be able to resist you this time around.”

You roll your eyes and mutter a small, “Thanks.” She gives you a thumbs-up and a coy smile.

“Shoes on?” She asks. You nod. “Hair?” Your hairstylist rushes over to you to fix a single strand, tucks it behind your ear, and then steps away. “Alrighty, I think we’re good to go.”

You turn to your glam team, thanking them for all their hard work and then you’re off to the premiere, but not before Estelle shouts, “Say hello to Pedro for me,” which gives everyone in the room a laugh.

You let out a giggle. “Bye, everyone.” And they all give a bye in return, some shouting, “Have fun!”

—

In the car, Daphne is helping you prepare for interviews. You’re sitting one seat over from her, not really paying attention since she has probably been over this a million times within two days.

When she first found out you were going to attend the premiere, she was baffled. “After all the rumors going around? Are you kidding me?” She had said.

You had told her it would be good for you, that you had come up with a reason that makes you look like you are strictly there for business and definitely not because you want to be one of the first ones to see Pedro Pascal in a gladiator costume, possibly all sweaty, and looking criminalally good. You could not pass up this opportunity.

It’s also a chance to clear up any rumors, or at least try to. You’re just really just trying to help your publicist who’s already way too stressed, but you just keep making things worse.

Sunday morning, you had woken up to a phone being pushed into your face, an article with the headline in big bold letters that read “FAMOUS ACTRESS SPOTTED OUTSIDE PEDRO PASCAL'S HOME.”

And it wasn’t your publicist behind that phone, it had been your assistant who had been told by your publicist.

Oh, was Daphne angry? No. She was fuming. “Call him. Now,” she said with a stern tone. And you were going to dial the number to talk things out with Pedro but you really just needed time to let everything sink in, you had just woken up for crying out loud.

You had told Daphne you’d call him later—later meaning that you’d wait for him to call you. He probably hadn’t even seen it yet, or so you told yourself.

So you waited.

And you waited

And, to your disappointment, you waited.

You would check your phone constantly. Every time you found your self drifting off during your meeting you shook yourself awake and checked your phone. Whenever Daphne mentioned something about the rumors you were quick to check your phone.

It got to a point where she literally had to rip your phone away from you just so you can get through a line from a script you were supposed to be rehearsing.

Then, just as you’re pushing your dinner around the plate, you phone buzzes. One buzz. Then another. You freeze

Please don't be a stupid notification. Please—Pedro’s name lights up your screen and you don’t even hesitate to press accept, taking a shaky breath, and brace yourself for what he’s about to tell you.

In the car, Daphne is helping you prepare for interviews. You’re sitting one seat over from her, not really paying attention since she has probably been over this a million times within two days.

She goes through a list of every possible question in every possible form, and you know she's stressed out by the way she just keeps going.

When she first found out you were going to attend the premiere, she was baffled. “After all the rumors going around? Are you kidding me?” She had said.

You had told her it would be good for you, that you had come up with a reason that makes you look like you are strictly there for business and definitely not because you want to be one of the first ones to see Pedro Pascal in a gladiator costume, possibly all sweaty, and looking criminalally good. You could not pass up this opportunity.

It’s also a chance to clear up any rumors, or at least try to. You’re just really just trying to help your publicist who’s already way too stressed, but you just keep making things worse.

You should’ve listened to Daphne when she told you not to go to Pedro’s, that you may get caught and it’ll be a big problem if you did. You wished you hadn’t ignored her warnings and simply just brushed her off saying that it would be fine because look at how wrong you were.

Now, all you can do is hope that an interviewer won’t ask about what’s going on between you and Pedro.

At least Pedro is worry-free, he just thinks that you were kidding about attending the premiere but little does he know you’re about to draw lots of attention right now.

—

Your heel hits the red carpet. No one seems to notice you quite yet, which makes you even more anxious for when they do.

Flashes go off a few yards down the carpet where one of the cast members is posing, not Pedro nor Joseph—but Paul. For now all eyes are on him and for you, there’s a fleeting moment of quiet, not literal silence, but the kind of breathless stillness that lives before impact.

You take a careful step forward and as you grow into the view of one of the photographers. He looks almost unsure at first, and he mumbles, “Is that who I think it is?” It’s loud enough for the person next to him to hear and repeat the same name, her head following his. Then one by one all their eyes fly to you as travel along the carpet.

You straighten up once flashes hit your face, smiling nice and big for the camera. You lift your chin up a little more, your arms are at your sides, one resting at you hip.

You move more down along the carpet, and now you’re standing just a few feet away from Paul. In the corner of your eye, you see that Paul notices you, and he shuffles closer over to you.

You look at him and he’s already smiling. “Picture?” He offers.

“Of course.” You lean more into him, wrapping your arm around him and he follows your movement, his hand placed in the middle of your back.

They shout for you to get a little closer together so you do. You lean your head towards his just a tad for one last photo and then he pats your back. “Thanks.” You give him a nod and follow him off the carpet.

Anyone you saw with a microphone you tried to dodge and stay out of their sight. Weaving your way through the crowds, but you couldn’t ignore everyone.

Some of the cast members came up to you and said hi. One of them was Fred, whom you worked with once. You were surprised that he even remembered, considering it had been a while since you had seen each other. Connie had also come to you to say hello, this was actually your first time meeting her. You’ve only heard of her, never have actually seen her in person before, she said the same thing about you.

Connie was so sweet and you guys chatted for a while, but the conversation was cut short when an interviewer snuck up on you. You felt a tap on your shoulder and Connie excused herself so you could be interviewed without interruption, part of you wanted to beg her not to leave you, but you couldn’t.

Where Connie was standing is where the interviewer was standing now. She introduced herself as Steph from Entertainment Tonight, and you're all rainbows and sunshine on the outside, but on the inside you're about to freak out because you know that they’re about to go in deep with these questions.

She looked into the camera, and so did you. “You, my dear, look breathtaking tonight. I have to say this dress is a moment.”

“Thank you, Steph, it means a lot. I really needed something that was bold, especially for tonight, you know?” She agrees, and then her face shifts into one of curiosity.

“We didn’t know we’d be seeing you here tonight, and we were wondering what brought you out?” She holds up the microphone to your lips.

“I have so much respect for everyone on the team and I wanted to see all the hard work they put into this movie come to life.” You continue, “The story scale, the artistry, the history. It all reminds you why you love what you do and it really inspires you.”

“Of course, of course! All of the cast members are so talented and it's such a big night for them. I love how supportive you are!” Her eyes turned away from your for a split second to give the camera a slick grin, then they’re back on you. Her voice dips, now ever so gentle, “A lot of people think your presence tonight has something to do with Pedro Pascal. You were just seen leaving his place late Saturday night. Is you being here simply a coincidence?”

You blink, smile faltering for just a second before you regather yourself. There’s a pause, then a sigh, and you know your silence speaks louder than what you’re about to say right now. “I didn’t come tonight to answer rumors. But I know that if I’m quiet it just makes the noise louder.”

Hesitating and taking a breath, you continue, “I knew that being here tonight would raise some eyebrows, especially after Saturday. I think it’s just reading a little too much into things. Pedro is someone I care about, yes, but…” You glance off to the side, searching for the safest answer. “But caring about someone doesn't mean there’s always a headline in it.”

Steph is silent for a split second, taking the microphone away from you once she realizes you’re not going to continue. “So, you’re just friends?”

Your eyes flicker toward the camera before returning to Steph, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yes,” is your answer, but your body language says otherwise when you play with the ring around your finger.

“Well, you heard it here first, people. Just friends.” She nods in assurance. “Thank you.”

You’re thankful it’s over, but you can already feel the internet writing headlines. The nerves really got to you during that interview, and you’re sure no one believes that you and Pedro are just friends after you left his house so late at night.

Daphne won’t be too happy either with your answers. You really should’ve gone with what she told you to say in case of this, instead you kind of just freestyled it.

You notice everyone beginning to head to the theatre, so you follow the crowd inside. Before the movie starts, they give a speech to the audience that celebrates everyone behind the making of the film.

One by one all the actors come up and are congratulated, given praise for their work. The whole time you only focus on one of those actors, whose eyes are searching through the audience for one person in particular. You.

He can’t seem to find you in the sea of people, and it’s too late to continue searching because he already needs to take a seat.

So, the movie plays. You sit in the dark, laughing when you’re supposed to, clapping when it’s over, and the credits roll.

To the naked eye, you’re acting normal, but inside you’re unraveling. The entire movie played on one screen, and the interview was on repeat in the other—in your mind.

What if you hadn’t swallowed the part about being more than friends? What if you had told them it was so much more than that?

Frankly, you’re tired of hiding something that has been going on for months. You’re tired of Pedro denying that there’s nothing really going on between you, or at least, you’re tired of him pretending like there’s nothing going on because there is. There’s so much more than what he denies himself.

You quite literally canceled multiple meetings for an upcoming audition on Sunday just so you could squeeze in a fitting for the dress you wore. Replacing a meeting about character backstory for one about about heel height and fabric swatches.

The script you were reading last night? That was for the same audition, now pushed to Wednesday. The meetings for that same audition you had pushed to tomorrow.

And there was a few more things replaced, delayed, or rescheduled just so you could be here tonight. Just so you could support Pedro.

He didn’t ask you to and still, you showed up.

You’re booked and busy. You have a whole career to chase. You have people to call back, scenes to prep, and so much more.

But if he called tonight?

You’d answer.

taglist: @not-the-teen-witch @namelesslosers @oystercat

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

We’re already more than halfway through 2025—have you checked in on your New Year’s resolutions lately? Today, we’re diving into your next blessings, because I can feel the collective craving something to look forward to—something to spark excitement again.

It’s hot, it’s sweaty, the days are longer, and we want to enjoy every ounce of them. So, take a deep breath, choose a pile, and discover the next blessing coming into your life.

You’re just one step away from a beautiful new chapter.

🌫 Pile 1: Clarity After the Storm

For many of you, your blessings are arriving in a very sacred and special way. You’re coming out of a fog—an internal conflict that’s kept you confused and uncertain. It’s been hard. You’ve been hanging on by a thin thread, just hoping that something would shift. You’ve been pushing forward, trying to persevere through heavy times that felt never-ending.

But here’s the good news: perseverance is paying off. The mist is lifting.

There has been a veil over your life for a while—a mental and emotional haze, perhaps even spiritual confusion. You’ve been in survival mode, not thriving, just getting by. But that cycle is coming to a close. What’s next is true, divine clarity.

Not the kind of clarity that leaves room for doubt—but decisive, empowered, embodied clarity. Confidence. Alignment. A return to your vitality.

Your blessing is this: You are coming into your own. No more tiptoeing. No more confusion. You will know who you are, what you’re here for, and exactly where you’re headed.

🔥 Pile 2: The Power Move

For you, the blessing is freedom at last. This summer, something shifts—and you are finally released from what has been holding you back.

You’ve been struggling to maintain balance in your life. Whether that means neglecting your body, abandoning routines that once grounded you, experiencing financial instability, losing a job, or grieving a relationship—you’ve been in a cycle of depletion.

That cycle ends now.

You’ve been watching your passion dim under the weight of life’s burdens. You wanted to soar, to laugh, to create, to live—but you’ve been stuck in survival mode, constantly trying to grasp stability, only for it to slip through your fingers again and again.

But here’s the turning point:

You’re about to make a power move—one that shifts your entire reality. This choice will align you with abundance, direction, and joy.

You are your own blessing.

The next decision you make will lead to a path that is clearer, brighter, more aligned. A path where you can finally feel creative, courageous, and grounded again.

Your blessing is liberation through empowered action.

🤍 Pile 3: Relationship Harmony

For this group, the blessing that’s coming your way is relational—whether in love, friendship, or family.

You’ve been in a season of miscommunication and emotional distance. There’s been tension, withdrawal, silence, and misunderstandings. Perhaps you’ve felt ghosted. Perhaps you’ve felt confused about where you stand with someone you care about deeply.

It’s been exhausting. The emotional back-and-forth. The overthinking. The moments of connection followed by uncertainty. Life may have been overwhelmingly busy too, pulling your energy in multiple directions. And all that inner and outer chaos left you paralyzed, unsure of how to move forward—or even how you feel.

You may have gone inward, convinced things just wouldn’t work out. You surrendered. But in truth, your heart never gave up. You wanted so much more with this person—or people—and you felt shattered when it didn’t unfold the way you hoped.

But now?

Reunion. Reconciliation. Relational harmony.

Your blessing is coming in the form of emotional connection—moments of real understanding, affection, compassion, and warmth. The tension will ease. The connection will feel soft again, genuine again, possible again.

You’re coming back together. Not in chaos—but in love.

🪷 Pile 4: Autonomy & Stability

Your upcoming blessing is independence and stability.

You’re moving out of a place where you were once disillusioned—holding on tightly to high hopes, dreams, and idealized visions of what could have been. You genuinely believed something was meant for you, so you clung to it, even as it began to collapse.

But it didn’t bring ease.

It didn’t bring comfort.

It demanded too much of you—your energy, your peace, your spirit.

And now, it’s falling away. Not to punish you, but to free you.

Your blessing is the ability to finally let go. You no longer need to beg something broken to stay. You’re stepping into your sovereignty, reclaiming your autonomy, and getting back to yourself—back to self-love, self-care, and self-devotion.

You’re rebuilding.

You’re rising.

You’re remembering who the hell you are.

This time, you’re not dependent—you’re interdependent. You’re no longer searching outside yourself for worth or clarity. You’re choosing the path that serves your highest self.

Your blessing is becoming whole, stable, and self-led again.

🔥 Pile 5: Creative Spark & Inspired Action

Your blessing is a renewed zest for life and a passionate return to your creative projects.

You’ve spent a long time in a fog of stagnation—buzzing with ideas, yes, but unsure how to act on them. You found yourself stuck in cycles of overthinking, second-guessing, procrastinating. You wanted to build something great, but discipline kept slipping through your fingers. Routines fell apart. Structure felt too rigid.

You were at a crossroads, uncertain about what to do next.

But here’s where your blessing begins:

Your inspiration is returning.

Your spark is reigniting.

You’re entering a powerful phase of motivation, clarity, and action.

No more sitting on your gifts. No more doubting your potential. No more playing small. You’re gathering momentum. You’re seeing signs. You’re inspired by the world around you. You’re creating, moving, and saying yes to life again.

This is your time to seize the moment. Your next chapter is rooted in doing—not just dreaming. And everything you need is already within you.

Your blessing is your own readiness. You are the fire now.

🌊 Pile 6: Release & Reclamation

You’ve been stuck in the past—emotionally tethered to someone or something that no longer serves you. You couldn’t let go, no matter how hard you tried. You replayed the memories. You held onto hope. You clung to what was already slipping away.

And in doing so, you missed other blessings.

You turned down opportunities.

You held yourself in emotional limbo.

You didn’t grow, not because you couldn’t—but because all your energy was spent on holding on. You lost time, financial chances, and maybe even yourself in the process.

But now, your blessing is here:

You’re letting go.

You’re coming back home to yourself.

No more enmeshment. No more identity wrapped around someone else’s love, approval, or absence. You are becoming your own anchor now.

You’re learning discipline. You’re rebuilding slowly, with care. You’re protecting your energy with boundaries that hold. You’re regaining your stamina. You’re no longer people-pleasing or playing small.

You’re reclaiming your power—and you’re doing it fiercely.

The blessing is you.

The freedom is yours.

And the path forward is finally yours to define.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

[theskywithin]

New Moon in Cancer – 25 June 2025 (ALL SIGNS)

This Moon is a tide that turns inward, a hush before the first note. Cancer’s waters do not wash things away, they soften them until the hidden shape appears. From 25 June onward a new story germinates in the dark, written in the language of need, safety, and belonging. Listen: the tide is drawing its breath, preparing to climb the sand in a shape you’ve never seen. Meet it barefoot, and it will remember your name.

🛑 just a note: if you see my writing reposted on other platforms without credit, especially Twitter, please feel free to tell me. my work is deeply personal, and every metaphor carries something I lived through. Thank you for protecting my voice when I’m not in the room. also, if you want to know more about your birth chart my book link is at the bottom of the page :)

Aries Sun & Rising

There’s a hush moving through the halls of your inner home. Not the house you rent or paint but the one with ceilings made of memory and wallpaper stitched from the sound of your own heartbeat. This New Moon touches the origin point, the root cellar of your life. And it asks: What does safety mean to you now? You’re learning that the version of home you deserve is not a performance, it’s the place where you can stop bracing. Where the armor unclenches. And this new beginning may come in unexpected forms: a decision to move, a conversation that reshapes the past, a promise to mother yourself better. Let it be quiet. Let it be real.

Watch for: → Strong cravings for stillness or solitude → Family dynamics shifting, or news that invites emotional clarity → An urge to cook, nest, clean, or finally hang something on the wall

Ritual: boil cinnamon sticks in water until the steam curls toward you like a memory. Inhale deeply. Whisper: I am allowed to stay.

Taurus Sun & Rising

The voice inside your head has changed dialects lately, less polished, more personal. This New Moon enters the space between your thoughts and your truths, asking: What if you only said what you meant? There is a soft but seismic shift happening in how you speak, write, listen, and share. You’re no longer interested in filling the silence with empty syllables. You want your words to mean something. And that’s where the healing begins. In the story you choose to tell next. You may reconnect with a sibling, rediscover your love of writing, or finally put into words something you’ve carried for years. Let it come through you like ink made of saltwater.

Watch for: → A conversation that brings release → A message that feels like a tiny key → Urges to take a short trip, buy new books, or unfollow what numbs you

Ritual: write one sentence you wish someone had said to you when you were younger. Carry it in your wallet until it feels like yours.

Gemini Sun & Rising

The soil of your worth is shifting because something deeper is ready to bloom. This Moon does not care about your title, your salary, your metrics. It wants to know: what makes you feel safe in your skin? It’s time to reroute your relationship with receiving, with ownership, with enough. You may be called to begin a new financial chapter, set boundaries around what you give away for free, or rediscover pleasure without guilt. This isn’t about luxury. It’s about belonging to yourself so fully that even the way you spend money becomes a love language.

Watch for: → New income possibilities or money conversations that hold emotional weight → A craving for slower beauty: cooking, tending, touch → Letting go of old self-worth stories inherited from family or survival

Ritual: place a small coin under a glass of water overnight. In the morning, pour the water into the soil and keep the coin in your palm. Feel the exchange.

Cancer Sun & Rising

You are being rewritten by water. This New Moon isn’t outside of you. It is you. It rises through your chest like a tide that refuses to recede until you finally let it say: I am ready to begin again. You’re no longer obligated to the versions of yourself that others have memorized. There is permission here to soften where you were once sharp, to step forward without apologizing, to walk into the world as someone who knows they deserve to take up space. This isn’t reinvention. It’s reclamation. The Moon is pouring its ink into your outline and saying: draw again.

Watch for: → The desire to change your look, your name, your tone → New beginnings that are deeply personal but hard to explain → People reacting to your shift, let them. You’re not performing this time.

Ritual: stand before a mirror in the dark. Say your name out loud, then whisper a new word that belongs to this version of yo, like free, beloved, sovereign. Let the mirror listen.

Leo Sun & Rising

There’s a part of you that’s always had to shine. To hold it together. To stay composed, perform, radiate. But under this Moon, something ancient inside you wants rest, not as escape, but as medicine. This is the Moon of hidden rooms and sealed envelopes. Of memories that knock at the back door. It asks: What have you not let yourself feel because it made you less impressive? You are being invited to release, deeply and without drama. The kind of shedding that no one sees, but that changes everything. This is the beginning of a private revolution. One no one has to applaud.

Watch for: → Unexpected dreams or memories resurfacing from nowhere → Emotional exhaustion that isn’t laziness but truth → The desire to disconnect not from people, but from performance

Ritual: take a long bath or shower in the dark. Light one candle and speak to your reflection when your face re-emerges in the steam. Say: You can stop holding it all.

Virgo Sun & Rising

You are not meant to carry every soul you’ve ever loved. This Moon asks you to set down the ghosts of obligation, and look toward what’s calling you now, the future-friends, the co-dreamers, the ones who speak to your hope rather than your wounds. This is a new chapter in how you commune, not just with people but with vision. What kind of life do you believe in enough to begin building? You may be reshaping your circles, realizing you’ve outgrown some communities, or finally saying yes to a vision that used to feel too far away. You don’t have to lead the world, just find the ones whose dreams make you remember your own.

Watch for: → Sudden dissolving of old friend dynamics → New invitations to collaborate, organize, or co-dream something → Realizing that fitting in has cost you more than standing out ever could

Ritual: write down a vision you have for the world, not for yourself. Light a small flame and speak it into the fire. Let the smoke carry it into the hands of those who share it with you.

Libra Sun & Rising

You’ve been working hard to keep the surface calm but this Moon goes for the root. It slips behind the mask, into the part of you that wonders, What is all this effort for? It’s not an ending, it’s a recalibration of direction. Not just what you do, but who you are when you do it. This is the kind of new beginning that may arrive as a pang of doubt, then evolve into a wave of self-reclamation. You’re allowed to redefine what success means. You’re allowed to want more, or less, as long as it’s true. The crown doesn’t matter if it doesn’t fit your head anymore.

Watch for: → Shifts in professional reputation, goals, or power dynamics → Unexpected praise or pressure that makes you question your path → The urge to create something that aligns more with your emotional truth

Ritual: write a resignation letter to a version of success you no longer serve. Burn it. Then write a vow to the vision you want to work for now.

Scorpio Sun & Rising

You’ve been climbing a mountain. But this Moon doesn’t ask you to summit, it asks you to expand your horizon. Not with ambition, but with reverence. What if your life is not a ladder, but a landscape? This New Moon calls your attention to the philosophies, places, mentors, and stories that can stretch your worldview. You may be pulled toward something foreign, unfamiliar, a risk of hope you haven’t dared to follow before. But this is not about escape. It’s about trusting your curiosity enough to let it become a compass.

Watch for: → Travel, teaching, publishing, or spiritual questions appearing → A desire to study something obscure or meaningful → Feeling emotionally tethered to a truth you can’t yet explain

Ritual: look up at the sky and name something you believe that no one taught you. That’s your North Star. Let it guide you now.

Sagittarius Sun & Rising

You’re not scared of endings but you are scared of losing control. And this Moon? She asks you to surrender control gently, not with panic, but with trust. She wraps her hands around the part of you that bargains, holds back, or calculates your vulnerability, and she says: What if intimacy wasn’t dangerous? This is a new beginning in the realm of shared energy, deep love, invisible exchanges. You may find yourself confronting a debt, merging lives or bank accounts, grieving what cannot be saved, or diving into something that demands all of you. It’s not about danger. It’s about depth. This is the kind of transformation that leaves you more alive, not less.

Watch for: → Honest conversations about sex, trust, power, or debt → Emotional clarity in long-term entanglements → The end of something that makes space for a more real version of love

Ritual: pour water into two glasses. Label one mine, the other ours. Pour them into a third and ask: What am I choosing to share, and why?

Capricorn Sun & Rising

You’ve been building alone for so long you’ve forgotten what it feels like to be held. This Moon comes bearing partnership, not just in love, but in presence. It reminds you that intimacy is not weakness. That collaboration does not cost you your autonomy. You are being invited to re-pattern how you relate. Not by effort, but by listening. Not by sacrifice, but by self-trust. This is the beginning of a new way of being chosen, one where you don’t have to abandon yourself to belong. You can be fully met only when you fully arrive.

Watch for: → A new relationship, contract, or relational dynamic forming → Clarity about what you will and won’t compromise anymore → Encounters that mirror the version of you you’re becoming

Ritual: sit with someone who sees you clearly. Without fixing, ask: How do you experience me when I’m being real? Then say thank you and believe them.

Aquarius Sun & Rising

The body has been whispering. This Moon turns up the volume to remind you that healing isn’t an idea, it’s a rhythm. A practice. A return. This is a new beginning in how you honor the vessel that carries you. How you work, how you rest, how you recover. You may notice shifts in health, routine, daily energy. But deeper than that, you may realize how much you've been holding in your muscles, your breath, your jaw. You don't need a better system. You need a softer one.

Watch for: → Health-related revelations, subtle or physical → A calling to be more present in your daily rituals → The urge to build a life that feels livable, not just impressive

Ritual: stretch for five minutes, not to become more flexible, but to meet yourself. Then ask your body what it wants from you this month.

Pisces Sun & Rising

The dream doesn’t need to be perfect, it just needs to be yours. This New Moon kisses the corners of your creative life, your joy life, your romantic life, the parts of you that have longed to feel alive, not just useful. It’s a return to desire. Not lust but aliveness. This could be the beginning of a new romance, a new project, a new permission. You may suddenly remember how you used to express yourself before the world told you to be quiet. Don’t just follow the muse, become her.

Watch for: → Creative impulses or fertile, sensual energy blooming → The reemergence of childlike wonder or a literal child → Romance that doesn’t fix you, just mirrors you

Ritual: create something small and imperfect tonight: a song, a scribble, a spell. Let the mess be a message: joy lives here.

my book here :)

© original writing by @theskywithin — reposting or translating without credit is copyright infringement.

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret - Chapter 10

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist |

When Felix had received a call at nearly 4 in the morning, his first instinct had been to ignore it. His hand had reflexively hit the volume down button, silencing the call, and he closed his eyes in hopes of falling back asleep. But then his brain processed exactly who had been calling him, and he got up so quickly his body got tangled in the sheets.

He answered the call as he tried desperately to untangle his leg.

“Chris?” He whispered, trying not to wake up Hyunjin.

“I need your help.”

Those were never good words to hear from his leader and pack alpha. It wasn’t that Chan never needed help, but it wasn’t often he would willingly ask for it, nevertheless this early.

Felix’s nerves were instantly at an all-time high.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” His alpha reassured, although he sounded tired. “It’s not actually me who needs your help.”

With a sharp tug, Felix let out a loud huff as he finally managed to free his leg. He shuffled to the bathroom as he answered.

“What is it?”

He closed the door as quietly as he could.

“Minho’s going into rut.”

Felix paused at that. Minho’s rut wasn’t as regular as Chan’s, but it normally happened at least every 3 months. His last rut had been in August, meaning this current one was about 2 weeks early. It was unexpected, but considering his own heat had also shown up as a surprise nearly a week ahead of schedule, maybe their pack bond was compensating.

It did make him worry slightly. Seungmin had his heat scheduled for the beginning of next year, but if it came early, the singer might miss their end of year performances.

It was something to think about later.

“Do you want me to get Hannie?” Felix asked, flattening out his hair.

“No, I need you to come down to the lobby. Take the stairs, the elevator is out of commission right now.”

Felix frowned, cracking the bathroom door open to check on Hyunjin. “Okay? Why don’t you want me to get Han first thought? If Minho’s going into rut, he’s going to want him there.”

“Minho’s stuck in the elevator,” Chan sighed.

“Oh.” Felix blinked in surprise.

“Hmm, and he’s not alone.”

-0-0-

Felix hadn’t run down the stairs once he had gotten the full scope of the situation, but he did move faster than he probably should have after just waking up. He was starting to sweat, and he had forgotten scent blockers, so the lobby was already starting to fill up with his cinnamon even before he spotted the firefighters, but then normally sweet spice began to burn as his anxiety rose.

Chan approached him with a grimace. “Felix, it’s okay. Calm down.”

“Are they okay? What did the hotel staff say? Can we get them out?”

“Lixie, breathe,” Chan said, and his own scent began to spread out.

Felix took a deep breath as he was told, closing his eyes at the familiar lavender and pineapple that he was met with. He shook his hands out.

“Sorry, sorry.” His own scent was pulled in.

“They’re both fine, I just talked to Minho,” Chan confirmed, rubbing a hand up and down his arms. It was chilly in the lobby. “The firefighters are working on getting the doors open.”

“What even happened?”

“They think a cable snapped. The safety mechanism kicked in to stop it from hitting the ground, but it jammed the wiring somehow. They’ll have to open the doors manually.”

Felix was glad Chan waited until the firefighters had arrived to call him, because he couldn’t have imagined having to wait over an hour just to be reassured that his friends were alright. Even the 4 minutes it took for them to pry the elevator doors open felt like hell.

He took his unofficial assigned job seriously, being the second person to greet the two figures exiting the elevator, with the head firefighter being the first.

He didn’t even pause at the odd sight that greeted him. You were staring up at him with bleary eyes, the corners tinged purple, and he wrapped his jacket around you as a pretense of keeping you warm, but in reality, he was doing his best to hide your scent under his own. To be fair, Minho’s scent was strong enough to cover both of you at the moment, but he didn’t want to take any risks.

You had trusted him with this secret. He would do his best to make sure you were okay.

Although at the moment, you were most definitely not okay. He almost felt tempted to glare at his hyung, who despite being in the beginning stages of his rut, was far more clear minded than you were.

The firefighters were checking on Minho, but one moved to stop you and Felix as he tried to guide you out of the elevator.

“Are they okay?” he asked in broken English.

Felix was grateful one of them spoke English, because his Japanese was not the best.

“Yeah, just a little tired. I think my other friend might need a little more help.”

He would feel guilty about throwing Minho under the bus another time, but you were starting to lean all of your body weight on him, face seeking out his neck.

Chan met his gaze as he passed, giving him a small nod.

Every hotel they went to had to have a designated heat/rut area for guests who needed a place to ride one out. The managers were more than happy to book a room for Minho for when he was released from the elevator (free of charge they claimed – an apology for the elevator breaking down), but both him and Chan had agreed it would be a good idea to get you into a shower, a change of clothes, and some scent blockers.

It was mostly a precaution to keep your presentation a secret before the managers would be informed on the situation (the fact that none of them had been alerted was both relieving and worrying), but now there was a more pressing need to get you into an isolated room, one where he could check on you properly.

He wasn’t sure what happened in the elevator, but you were in a drop.

Felix had his fair share of experiences with drops, both personally and from his members. Your omega was calling the shots right now, and he needed to make sure you didn’t do anything reckless while you were out of it. Already, he could feel you nosing at the scent gland on his neck.

“Lix,” You whispered, tongue darting out to lick a stripe against his skin.

His breath hitched, heart starting to beat faster. He was thankful that the stairwell was empty, because he didn’t think he had it in you to stop you if you decided to continue. Thankfully though, you simply dropped your head against his shoulder with a soft sigh.

You also started dragging your feet.

“Come one,” He hissed, moving to adjust his grip on you. “Work with me here. It’s just one more floor.”

The two of you were nearing the last few steps when you paused a second to look up at him, blinking slowly.

“Felix?”

He let out a soft hum to show he was listening, reaching out to steady you as you began to tilt forward.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Where’s Minho?”

“He’s okay,” Felix assured you. “Come one, last step.”

“Where are we going?”

“To get you cleaned up,” He said, although he was re-considering the original plan.

The idea had been to get you cleaned up and send you back to your room before your roommate noticed you were gone, but you were likely to be out of it for a little while longer. In all likelihood, you would probably need the rest of the night (or morning, his brain supplied him) to gain some control, at least enough that he could send you back up without worrying about you slipping up in front of someone who didn’t know your secret.

He bit his lip.

“I can get cleaned up in my room,” you slurred, leaning into him again.

Thankfully, they were close to the room Chan had booked.

“I don’t doubt that. But we want to make sure you don’t accidentally reveal your omega status to anybody else,” Felix explained, opening the door.

You didn’t answer, instead letting out a soft hum as he led you into the room.

The room was spacious. It had a large king-sized bed with a soft comforter and extra blankets at the end, a desk in the wall furthest from the door, and in the middle of the room was a couch and a small table over a large fluffy carpet. Two doors were to the immediate right of the entrance, most likely a closet and the bathroom.

It smelt sterile, like most heat/rut rooms did.

You didn’t seem to like that, your nose scrunching up adorably as you entered the room. Felix closed the door behind him, slipping his phone and yours onto the table near the entrance, watching as you stood in one place, eyes blankly staring at the room without seeming to take anything in.

He was close behind you as you began to move towards the couch, suddenly flopping down like a puppet who’s strings got cut. The only sign you were okay was the soft sigh you let out.

Felix settled carefully on the edge of the couch next to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

That made sense. As you moved around to get comfortable, his jacket was thrown off and Felix was hit with your scent for the first time. He closed his eyes as vanilla began to invade his senses, a hint of cinnamon and maple mixing together into the sweetest combination he could imagine. Your feet pushed up against his thigh as you stretched, and Felix grabbed your ankle out of habit, thumb rubbing against your skin.

Your scent grew stronger in pleasure, and he had to swallow down the desire that began to grow in his lower body.

“Lixie,” You whispered, eyes only half open.

“I’m here,” He assured you, pushing out his own scent in hopes of calming your omega. “Get some sleep.”

You mumbled something, eyes finally fluttering closed.

Felix spent way too long watching you as you dozed, something in his chest feeling both heavy and lighter than normal, It wasn’t until the door opened with a click that he finally looked away, carefully quiet as Chan practically dragged Minho into the room, the dancer letting out a growl.

He had spent the better part of 8 years getting to know his packmates in their best and worst moments, and learning to understand their pushing points, so he wasn’t worried when it looked like Minho was seconds away from biting Chan. He simply watched as the eldest flicked Minho in the nose.

“Don’t give me that. I’m not giving you a hand job in the hotel hallways.”

Minho, with his sweaty hair pushed back and flushed cheeks, looked far too appealing for Felix, who was already struggling to maintain calm. The last thing he needed was the rutty alpha stinking up the room and pulling you from your sleep to satisfy his desires, which judging by the red strip of skin on your neck, it wouldn’t be the first time.

He cleared his throat. “You’re not going to be able to do that here either.”

It was only then that Chan noticed you on the couch, and his brows lifted. “What are they still doing here?”

“They’re in drop,” Felix explained, shooting Minho a look.

At least he had the decency to look embarrassed.

“That’s my fault. I might have gone a little overboard when scenting them.”

“You think?”

Chan clapped a hand on Minho’s shoulder to silence whatever reply he had been preparing, steering the alpha towards the bathroom.

“C’mon, you need a shower.”

Felix didn’t mention the obvious lie, knowing it was his leader’s best attempt to keep some decency in the room for your sake, even though you were asleep. He pretended not to notice the lewd noises that could be heard from under the sound of the shower, and he pulled his jacket back over your body to cover up as much of your scent as he could when they exited nearly an hour later.

Both alphas were too exhausted to do more than wish him a goodnight before they fell asleep. Even though he hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep, Felix stayed awake, his omega needing to watch over his pack at their most vulnerable.

He didn’t bother correcting his omega’s thoughts of you being a part of the pack. The mix of scents on your skin and the mark against your neck confirmed that it wasn't only Chan who felt the same. It was almost disappointing you weren’t interested in being courted.

But he wasn’t convinced you were entirely against it.

He respected your choices, but he was also hoping that someday you would change your mind, and he would finally get the chance to bring you in. It could take years, but Felix was willing to be patient. Even if he needed to wait until his career was over and was no longer an excuse. Even if he had to hold secrets from his members until then.

Felix had gotten attached, and he wasn’t willing to give you up without a fight.

-0-0-

If there was ever a reason to thank whoever invented elevators, it was now.

You understood why the hotel would place the heat/rut rooms in the basement (to prevent scents from affecting others), but it unfortunately left you having to jog up multiple different floors of stairs to reach the floor you would be meeting the boys at. You managed to make it the first 2 floors with little trouble, but then you began to grow tired and slowed down enough that you started to think about what you were going to say.

I’m an omega - Straight to the point? Probably not the best.

Maybe an introduction? They already knew who you were, but you hadn’t really talked to any of the remaining members except for Changbin. Should you give them some backstory? Explain how this all started?

You felt almost frustrated by your spur of the moment decision. You wished you at least had a chance to think about this, but you had only given yourself 15 minutes to work with, most of which was spent climbing the stairs. The one thing you were thankful for was the lack of people in the stairwell.

You did pass a couple who nodded politely to you, and there was the sound of a door opening and closing somewhere below you, but you were only two floors away at this point and your anxiety was starting to grow.

You took a moment to breathe, leaning against the railings with a sigh, and you began to notice the sound of footsteps that was growing in volume as it got closer. You frowned.

There was someone running up the stairs.

After leaning farther to get a look below you, you realized that the person running up the stairs was none other than Chan. And then you were left with worry that something had happened.

“Chan?” You called down to him.

He paused, snapping back to look at you in surprise, and a wave of emotions crossed his face before setting on something you could almost describe as relief. You stayed put as he called out for you, watching with confusion as he continued his race up.

Even as he grew closer, you didn’t seem to realize that you were who he was running towards until he was in front of you, chest heaving with the force of his breaths, his forehead pulled taught with the pull of his brows, a hand reaching out to touch your arm with a strong grip, like he was afraid you would run away from him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked you, as if somehow you had made a bad decision.

You blinked. “What?”

“Are you-“ He paused at a buzzing noise from his phone, sticking his hands into his pockets to mute the call before he continued. “I got your text.”

“It wasn’t really meant for you,” Was the first thing you could think of, followed by, “Shouldn’t you be with Minho?”

“He’s fine, Han and Felix can look after him.”

“Oh.”

Chan looked almost exasperated, fingers digging into your arm. “Sweetheart, are you really going to tell them?”

You couldn’t tell whether he was happy or mad, a smear of scent blockers keeping his feeling close to his chest, and you could only stare at him wearily.

“Yes?” His eyes narrowed, and you instinctually took a step back, his grip on your arm dropping. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What I wanted? Why would you think I wanted that?”

You were starting to grow frustrated. “You’re the one who said I could trust them.”

“And you can! But you’ve been so insistent on keeping the secret, and all of a sudden you want to just … tell them?”

“I don’t want to tell them,” You corrected, as his phone began to buzz again.

Chan ignored it. “Then why are you?”

“Because I can’t stand to see anyone else get hurt.”

“Get hurt? What are you talking about?”

“Jisung!” You yelled, finally raising your voice, only to wince as it began to echo. You took a deep breath. “Felix lied to him because of me. You were forced to lie to Felix because of me, and now Minho is going to have to lie to everyone. Every time your pack lies to keep my secret, someone ends up getting hurt.”

Even with scent blockers on, it didn’t take a genius to tell how you felt. Chan also seemed to know that telling you it wasn’t your fault wouldn’t do much for your guilty consciousness, and you were grateful when he didn’t try to contradict you or push you anymore.

Instead, he just let out a sigh, running his fingers through his bangs.

“Do you really think this is the right time for this?” He finally asked.

“There’s never going to be a right time,” You argued, even if part of you wanted him to talk you out of it. Convince you to do this some other time, give you a moment to think. But you were afraid that if you thought about it too much longer, you might never get the courage to go through with it.

You weren’t a particularly brave person to begin with. You tried to do what you thought was right, tried to be confident and stand up for yourself – but what you wanted didn’t always connect with what who you actually were. The fact that you had made it this far, having to lie everyday and work your way out of all the problems that came up, was insane.

You were thankful when Chan was stepping closer again, because his presence made your worries and thoughts waver.

“I don’t want you to think you need to do this for me,” Chan said. The creases in his face betrayed his calm voice, and you wondered why he was so bothered about this. Was it his guilty consciousness? Did he think you would blame him?

“I’m not doing this for you, Chan.”

“But you’re not doing this for yourself either.”

You were saved by Chan’s phone once again buzzing, and after a pointed stare, he finally pulled it out. He gave the caller id a quick glance before he once again muted it. He looked stressed.

“Is it Minho?” you wondered, but Chan eased your worries with a shake of his head.

“No, it’s my manager. He must have heard the news.”

“Shouldn’t you answer it?”

Chan gave you a look. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this,” You told him, moving to make your way up the stairs. “I’m late as it is.”

His footsteps echoed as he followed after you, and it was then that you remembered that the two of you were basically out in the open, considering the out of commission elevators. Anybody could enter the stairwell at any point, and even though the two of you would have heard it, who knows what kind of rumors might start up.

Famous idol and female staff member seen alone in hotel stairwell. You could see the headlines already.

You shuttered at the sight.

“You should go talk with your manager.”

Chan followed after you quietly. It wasn’t until you reached the last step that he finally spoke, pulling your attention away from the dirty floor. “Why did you choose to meet them in Felix’s room?”

You paused. “It was the first one I though of. I wasn’t exactly thinking hard when I made the text.” You turned away from him in thought. “I just … Jisung was crying, and I made a split-second decision. All I knew was that I didn’t want to ever see him cry like that again.”

Chan was staring at you - you could see it from the corner of your eye - but you refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you maintained deep eye contact with a crack in the wall.

“I didn’t want any of you to be upset.”

He moved towards you, and you froze, heart beating wildly in your chest as he neared. Chan paused next to you, eyes heavy with something unspoken, before moving around you towards the door.

“Right. I’ll get going, send you a text when the coast is clear. Head straight to Felix’s room so nobody see’s you.”

“Chan,” You called out before he could leave, and he blinked at you in surprise. “Are you okay?”

You weren’t sure why you asked that. It must have been the lingering guilt – you didn’t want him to think you were mad at him, or resented him for what was your own decision, or, or, or –

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Are you sure?” You wondered, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from opening your mouth to ask, ‘are you mad at me?’ because that felt far too needy.

Chan’s brows pulled down. “I really am fine. I promise.”

And then he was gone, and you could only stare as the door slowly closed behind him, the sound echoing both through the stairwell, and your head.

-0-0-

He wanted to kiss you

Chan was normally good at keeping his instincts under control, but the urge had grown so strong that he forced himself out of the stairwell before he could do something stupid, like kiss you.

Would you let him?, he wondered.

It was something he had thought about before. It was something he thought about often, if he was being honest. When you and Felix first met, after the difficult conversation had ended and you were comfortable enough to actually sit down and talk with Felix. He had felt the urge build up as he watched his omega grow closer to you, could imagine the two of you growing closer in the future.

The urge had disappeared when you had seemed to realize it yourself. He had seen the way you grew quiet, hunching in on yourself like you had forgotten where you were. You had smiled at them despite the way your shoulders remained tense, and when you made an excuse to leave them, it was only to prevent Felix from finding out that he didn’t call you out on your habit of running away.

The urge to kiss you, to keep you close, to make you pack – it haunted him. He would never dream of actually courting you without the approval of his pack, and Felix knew that better than most. And when the omega had started bringing you up to the others to see their reaction, edging at the line you had drawn when it came to your secret, he knew he should have stopped him. But he didn’t.

Because deep down, he needed to know as well.

And it felt like he might actually have a chance as time went on. You trusted him on some level, enough that when you were in trouble, you didn’t hesitate to go to him for help. Even when he just wanted to use your mistaken luggage situation as an excuse to reveal your secret to the pack (it would help to ease the growing tension he could feel between Hyunjin and him), he instead chose to swallow down his wants and do what was right for you.

It made it harder to respect your choices when you made it so easy to fall for you. He wouldn’t find out until later what exactly it is that got you so upset, but somehow he knew that when you were dismissing the Japanese interviewer, it was in their honor. And then finding out that you were there for Han when none of the other members were available, and he found himself thinking about how well you could take care of his pack. That thought was still present in the back of his head when he could scent the faintest traces of your vanilla scent under Minho’s sickly sweet syrup after the two of you had been recovered from the elevator.

And in some instances, he felt almost responsible. He would be angry with Minho later for hiding his pre-rut symptoms from him (“I didn’t want to miss our first tour performance”), but he would also feel slightly annoyed that he missed them himself. The uncomfortable grimaces he brushed off as the eldest dancer overworking himself, the short temper he attributed to the approaching concert.

His biggest warning should have been the way Minho had been increasingly overprotective over Han, to the point of nearly shoving him out of the way to reach the beta when he found out he with in distress. You had texted him that you weren’t sure Han would want the company, but he didn’t know how to tell you that the alpha had already disappeared down the hall.

Part of him also felt guilty for the consequences that his inattentiveness might have caused. All in all, the elevator situation might have had the best possible outcome, but he struggled to fall asleep thinking about the what if’s. For his packmate to corner you on the elevator like that, his overprotective tendencies fired up through is pre-rut … Chan didn’t pin Minho as the violent type, but sometimes you could never be sure.

Minho had a harder time with his instincts. Especially his alpha’s need to keep his pack safe.

Chan was just glad that whatever happened in the elevator hadn’t caused any friction. If anything, it made the part of him that longed to have you in the pack harder to ignore, especially when he had finally seen you resting with your feet pressed to Felix’s thigh’s, the marks on your neck slowly turning a light purple shade.

Omega, his alpha practically sighed, ours.

Not mine – not his. But theirs.

Pack.

The word felt like a punch to the gut.

It was rare for a sub gender to claim someone as part of the pack like that – not when they didn’t have the rest of his pack’s scent, not when there was no claim on you, not when he couldn’t even be honest to the rest of his pack about how he felt.

He didn’t want to admit it, but when Han had shown up at their door asking to be with Minho and a lingering curiosity about you being an omega, he was glad you were opening up. It felt like the first step to making his wishes reality. He had rushed after you to make sure you weren’t experiencing any omega drop side effects, that this was actually something you were doing with a clear head and not just a spur of the moment decision.

But he was glad. He was so happy it felt like his chest was going to burst with the feeling, and so like you had so many times before, he found himself running away from you. Not because he was afraid to let you in, but because he was afraid of pushing you away.

You had made your boundaries very clear.

And if he wanted to kiss you, to scent you until his claim was clear, to bite down and mark you in a way he hadn’t felt since meeting Felix – well, that was something he could keep to himself.

For now.

-0-0-

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[mustyrosewater]

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐊𝐘 - 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗

𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,660

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: returning to the small wyoming town you were raised after a sharp fall from grace, your music career having turned into mindless pop you were forced to churn out by your manager and now ex, a return to home is just what you need, the perfect place to take a break from the life of a pop star, and also to meet some old faces.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, tension, pullout couches being uncomfortable, arguments, vomiting.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hello my sweeties, the slightest bit shorter with this chapter, but I make for it by giving you all some delicious rhett content, as well as leading up to the next chapter. i really hope you guys enjoy it and I'm so glad you're all loving this series so much!

Silence for an almost fifteen minute drive was certainly a great way to soak in tension.

Not that there was really a whole lot you could have said in this situation to fix it anyway, every time you’d even spared a glance over at Rhett, his single hand on the steering wheel was gripping so tight his knuckles were almost white, his eye’s focused on the road ahead of him, but you could still see how clearly unhappy he was with the predicament.

Part of you felt bad, kicking yourself for being so stupid as to allow yourself to get stranded and now be stuck in a truck with a person who’d been nothing but horrible to you.

The other part of you, however, was whole heartedly of the opinion which consisted of ‘fuck him, why shouldn’t he help you out? Least he could do after being such a massive dick.’

That was the part of you that seemed to be the one getting you in trouble more often than not.

When you finally made it to his house, not a word was exchanged as you both got out of the truck. Only you helplessly trailing behind Rhett as he approached his front door, keys jingling in his hand for a few moments before he pushed the door open.

It was a small house, but it was my no means unlivable, a lamp turned on as he passed it revealing more detail, a small kitchen and bathroom, one bedroom seperated in a different room, all topped off a small living area, couch and tv set up.

It was clearly a bachelor pad of sorts built for one man and one man only.

“Can you shut my goddamn door, please?”

His comment made you snap out of your trance, jumping slightly as you realised you hadn’t even stepped inside completely yet, just stood there holding your jacket like an idiot.

Shutting the door behind you, you let out a huff as you took a few steps in, placing your purse and jacket on his small dining table, hearing the bedroom light turn on as he ventured in, shutting the door enough to shield the room from view, but open enough so that a thin stream of light was still poking out.

Turning your back, you pulled the stetson off of your head and put it on the table next to your other items, taking another moment to trace your eyes all over your surroundings.

A sink stacked up with dishes made your nose curl slightly, not bearing to think about how long they’d been neglected for; the couch very clearly being a bit aged, but once again, you were in position to be picky.

The bedroom door creaking behind you made your head turn, revealing a now much more comfortably dressed Rhett, slightly worn and oversized shirt now covering him, along with what you could only assume was the boxers he’d been wearing underneath his jeans. 

Once again speaking not a word to you, he moved across the room as if you didn’t exist, pulling at the couch cushions till they came apart to reveal a thin mattress laid a top of the pull out base.

“Lemme just get a blanket.” 

His voice reeked of indifference, like he was just thinking out loud, disappearing back into the bedroom and coming back out only within a few seconds carrying a single pillow and a thick blanket with a pair of wolves printed on it, not unlike something from your childhood.

Laying it out as neatly as he cared to manage, he ventured into his kitchen, opening the fridge and rummaging around, looking thoroughly disappointed in his options. 

He was silent as he clinked around in the kitchen, letting you take a moment to yourself to unbuckle the belt around your waist, realising you’d likely have to peel off your jeans for any hope of a semi comfortable sleep, making a note to yourself to not do that until Rhett had retired for the night. 

It was pretty obvious that your presence was making absolutely no difference to his nightly routine, barely a roadblock for Rhett Abbott the depressing end to his night.

Taking a seat on the pull out mattress, you took advantage of the phone charger than had been left plugged in next to the couch, placing your phone on charge and setting it next to you on the floor.

“You gonna need anything before i turn in?”

You hadn’t heard him walk up behind you, turning your head where from the awkward angle of you practically sprawled over the pull out couch putting your phone down on the other side.

Righting yourself, you shook your head, trying to remain as polite as possible, considering the fact that he’d been more than capable of letting you freeze in the parking lot.

With a bowel in his hand of you had no idea what, he stood there staring at you for a moment before nodding his head, turning to retire into his room for the night.

“Rhett.” you spoke, watching him freeze in place and turn to you with a quirked brow, seemingly confused as to why you just told him you didn’t need anything and had changed your mind in the span of seconds.

“You um, you were really good tonight.”

Why you said that, you had no clue, maybe you were just trying to be extra certain he wasn’t going to change his mind by throwing in a compliment.

All it did was seem to confuse him more, his brow furrowing as he pulled his gaze away from you for a moment before looking once more.

“Thanks.”

You had no clue if that was a genuine thank you or if he just had no idea how to respond; but either way, it was the last you saw of him, watching him retire into his room and shut the door behind him.

You could still see his lamp on through the crack in the bottom of the door, for some reason unable to tear your eyes away from it, your head swirling with images of what he was doing in there. 

As you stood, you were silently thankful that you’d opted for boy shorts as your underwear of choice, a tad bit more covering than other options, but barely so.

Getting under the blanket and laying your head on the pillow, you were unable to stop staring at that thin line of light at his door, waiting for what felt like hours before you heard some shuffling and was suddenly bathed in complete darkness. 

Shutting your eyes, you tried to relax and try to forget who’s house you were in, who’s couch you were on, maybe that would offset some of the awkwardness of this entire situation. 

You could only hope.

-

Somehow you’d managed to capture sleep in your clutches, seemingly having had a satisfying four or five hours at the very least.

The sun was shining through the curtains when you opened your eyes, half your face pressed against the pillow as you realised you’d rolled onto your stomach in your sleep.

For a few seconds, you’d completely forgotten where you were, taking a moment to observe your surroundings before the memories of last night came flooding back in. 

Reaching for your phone suddenly, you opened it to see about two or three missed calls from your father at about six in the morning, dread filling your stomach as you let out a small sigh and readied yourself to call him and explain where you were.

“I already called your dad.”

As if he was turning into a habit, Rhetts voice behind you made you turn suddenly with a gasp, spotting him leaned against his kitchen counter with a coffee in hand, already dressed. 

Trying not to think about how long he’d been moving up and about while you were still snoring away on his pull out couch, you sat up and let the blanket keep your lower half covered.

“He’s okay?”

You were more concerned about him being upset at you for disappearing once again, but to a certain degree, you didn’t really have a choice considering the circumstances.

“S’fine. Just worried about you, says he had a few too many at poker night and passed out on his friends couch.”

He took a sip of his coffee as he finished his sentence, eyes never leaving where you were sat, always watching over the brim of his mug.

Nodding your head, you shrugged softly, that wasn’t exactly out of character for him. At least he got to have a fun night with his friends.

“Thank you, for calling him.” 

Your thanks was only answered with another nod, Rhett taking the final sip of his coffee before he left the mug on his counter, crossing his arms and walking over to his bedroom door.

Stepping inside, you could hear him moving things around, soon emerging with that same duffel bag over his shoulder. 

“I gotta get out to my dad’s place, I can drop you off on the way.”

Now it was your turn to nod, looking back at him and sharing a long silence as you both stared at each other, your eyes narrowing as you waited for him to be polite and step out of the room so that you could get back into your jeans.

“Do you mind?” you asked, holding up the jeans that were waiting for you, watching as his eyes widened slightly, realising his mistake.

“Shit, sorry.” 

As you watched him disappear back into his bedroom and half shut the door, you stood from the pullout couch and tried to wriggle into your jeans as quickly as you could manage, almost tripping and eating shit only once. 

“You’re good.” you call out, reaching out for the belt you left on the table, hearing Rhett’s bedroom door open just as you’re weaving the belt through the loops in your jeans, doing the buckle up and turning to look at him.

For a split second you can have sworn he’d been staring while you put your belt on, but you brushed it aside to grab your stetson and jacket, holding both as you hung your bag over your shoulder, placing your phone inside.

With a nod, Rhett approached his front door, opening it and stepping to the side, holding it open for you so you exit, locking it behind him when you were both back outside.

Getting into his truck and taking off, the ride was just the same as it was the night before, silent.

The drive to your fathers house was slightly longer one, so there was only so long before one of you had to break the silence, it was just a toss up to see who would give in first.

“I don’t hate you.”

That one had obviously been bubbling for a while, cause when the words left Rhett’s lips, it sounded like he’d been desperately trying to force them out.

Your head turned, confusion clear on your features as you leaned forward in your seat slightly.

“Huh?”

“I don’t hate you.”

He repeated the words a bit slower and clearer as if you didn’t speak english, seemingly annoyed he had to force the sentence out.

“I don’t like you, doesn’t mean i hate you.”

You opened your mouth to say something, wanted to delve deeper into exactly why he’d come to gather this opinion of you, but just as you were about to question him, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea come over you, your hand flying to your mouth.

“Fuck. Stop the truck.”

Your tone seemed to convey the seriousness of the situation, Rhett’s hand’s coming to the wheel and spinning it to a hard left, the sound of smooth road transitioning into rocky gravel, only able to hear him letting out a few curses.

The very second the truck came to a stop, you’d unbuckled your belt, pulling at the door handle so hard you were worried it could pop right off at any second.

Finally coming flying out of the door, you were only able to force yourself to take a few steps before your knees hit the dirt, bile rising out of your throat, your eyes watering.

You were too focused on throwing up to hear his door open and close, not paying any attention to the sound of his footsteps as he jogged around his truck to where you were.

Coughing up the last of it, you tried to steady your heaving breaths, focus on your surroundings so that you could get the fuck up and stop chuck your guts up in front of Rhett.

“Christ, are you okay?”

His voice broke you from your trance, head turning to see the slight of standing about a meter and a half away, brows furrowed in a mix of concern, and just overall unpleasantness at the sight before him.

“Yep.” you spoke, not surprised at all, already aware of the cause of your sudden vomiting “Gimme a minute.”  

Rising from your knee’s you spat onto the dirt ground, wiping your mouth of the saliva across your chin and turning to look back at him, gathering yourself and brushing the dirt off of your jeans before heading back for the truck, opening the door and sitting yourself back inside.

Seemingly confused, Rhett took a moment before walking back over to his own side, getting in and shutting his door, not doing anything else, just looking at you, his stare in the corner of your eye.

“What.” you questioned, turning to look at him.

“Mind telling me what that just was?” 

He phrased the question as if it was obvious, why you’d just made him nearly draw the both off of you veering off the road, only to promptly get out of his truck, spew, and get back in.

“It’s nothing, I just didn’t take my meds last night.”

Your response didn’t fix his expression, only shaking his head as he turned to turn the key in his ignition, the truck roaring to life.

“You didn’t think that was important information to tell me last night?”

By the sound of his words he was genuinely upset, whether for the inconvenience or for making him see that in the first place, you weren’t entirely sure.

You had no clue why he was so annoyed, you were the one that had just thrown up in the dirt, it was of no consequence to him whether or not you’d taken your medication.

“Didn’t think your pa would think im asshole for refusing to drive you back? When you’re on medication?” 

Furrowing your brows, you shook your head in disbelief, shrugging your shoulders. Once again, Rhett just seemed to love picking a fight with you, as if you couldn’t do anything right and he was just itching for an excuse to talk down to you.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ die if i don’t take my meds, Abbott. If my dad was pissed at you, you’d know.”

Shaking his head, Rhett seemed to mutter something to himself that you couldn’t hear, only able to make out the soft “Fuckin’ ridiculous.” he spoke under his breath. 

Scoffing, you crossed your arms and looked out the window, choosing silence as the sound of choice for the remaining eight minutes of the drive to your fathers house.

Any small amount of civility you tapped into last night was gone all over again, the pair of you were back to seething silently, the occasional huff or annoyed sigh being the only words exchanged.

Finally arriving back at your home, you’d expected Rhett to drive off as soon as you’d exited, expected to hear the sound of him peeling off as you soon as you turned your back.

But just as you went to close the door, his voice rang out, leaning down to see you through the passenger side of the truck.

“You gonna be okay?”

The words felt like he had to force them out, like he was going against his nature, but he did it anyway, his brows furrowed in a way that expressed annoyance, yet his eyes had hints of concern.

Looking down at your phone, you checked the time, you knew your father wasn’t going to be back yet, at least not for another hour or so.

You really didn’t want to share any details, you hadn’t planned for him to know even the smallest amount about all of your medication, you hadn’t told a single person out and clear that you were even in rehab, not that you needed to, it was of the assumption that everybody knew.

“Technically i’m supposed to have someone supervise me.”

“What for?”

His question had you hesitant to respond, not actually realising how grim it sounded until you had to actually say it out loud.

“In case I go into shock.”

His face certainly made it clear that he was surprised at how casually you had said that.

“But i’m sure i’ll be ok, it’s fine, really.”

As his eye’s squinted, he looked back at the steering wheel for a brief second, seemingly contemplating once again, thoughts flowing in his mind that you were not privy to.

Without another word, he opened his truck door and stepped out, shutting the door behind him and walking around to where you were standing.

“If something happens and your dad finds out I left you here alone, he’ll kill me.” 

Opening your mouth to protest, you couldn’t manage to get any words out before he had already walked past you and began heading up the small set of stairs to your porch.

“Rhett, im serious, i’ll be perfectly fi-”

The look he gave you told you all you needed to know, he wasn’t going to leave any room for negotiation, he wasn’t going to budge, and it would be wise to try any further.

“I’m just gonna- you know what, fine. Whatever.”

Speeding up and passing him so you could swing open the door, you stomped to the kitchen, disappearing around the corner and opening up the cabinet where you kept all of your medication, a small sea of yellow bottles with white lids overtaking you.

Laying them on the counter, you could see Rhett in the corner of your eye, standing on the other side of the kitchen island watching you intently, saying nothing but watching everything.

Just as it was during the truck ride, silence was the only conversation held between the pair of you, only the occasional annoyed look you sent his way when you turned to grab a glass of water.

Taking each pill was something you’d gotten used to, roughly about five pills for the morning, depending on how you were feeling, and six at night. 

Taking into account what you’d missed last night, you adjusted the number and took them silently, keeping your eyes on the kitchen window, looking out into the field to avoid looking over at the stubborn cowboy who stared at you like you were going to combust.

Which of course was more than enough to piss you off within about five seconds.

“Do you even know what you’re looking for?” you snapped, turning to face him and resting your hands on the counter.

“Like, do you even know what the signs of shock are?”

Opening his mouth to say something, his face showing that you were clearly right, you continued to talk before he could say anything.

“Cause I can tell you right now, you staring me down like im a wild animal isn’t helping.” 

“Jesus christ, you really can’t accept any help at all, can you?”

His voice was slightly raised, his head shaking as he looked at you in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Just like always, god forbid I even breathe around you, and you’re jumping down my throat!”

The words he threw at you were only stirring you on further, a laugh leaving your throat as you shook your head and turned around where you were standing, hands landing on your hips as you spared a glance at the kitchen window once more before looking back at him.

“You’re inability to take any form of accountability continues to astonish me, even since we were in high school, everything is everybody else’s fault, never Rhett Abbott's. No. That’d just be crazy.”

You held a hand up as you spoke, your anger bubbling as you took a breath, trying to calm yourself, running a hand over your face and sighing.

“I don’t even know what the fuck I did to you, honestly.” you paused, turning over to look at him, a hint of softness having now taken over your features. “All i know is one day, out of nowhere, you just started hated my goddamn guts.” 

There was something on Rhetts face when you said that, some unreadable expression crawling it’s way over his features, like he knew exactly what you were talking about and didn’t want to admit it, didn’t wanna acknowledge the way he’d done you wrong.

“You ruined my graduation dance, Rhett.” 

The ache in your voice almost seemed like it had caused him physical pain, the way he stood there, panting from his yelling, just staring at you. 

As he opened his mouth to say something, nothing came out, like he couldn’t decide who he was angry with. Like he couldn’t tell where he was meant to direct it towards.

“Fuck this.” was all he uttered out, turning to walk towards the front door.

You didn’t say a single word as he walked out, some part of you preparing yourself to hear the door slam, memories of the fights with your ex coming to mind.

There were so many things you’d always used to argue about, money, contracts. Yet never about anything that actually pertained to your wellbeing, every argument you’d ever had with him had always been spurred by some sort of change you wanted to make career-wise.

Silence wasn’t what you expected, looking up to see that he’d simply walked, hadn’t slammed the door as a show of anger, simply left it swinging softly in the wind.

You could hear his truck start up, waiting till it grew quieter and quieter until it completely disappeared until you walked over to shut the door.

Left with more questions than answers, you decided that Rhett Abbott was simply a mindfield that you wanted to steer clear of, unpredictable and untempered, something you did not need. 

-

Over the course of the next few days, you’d managed to find yourself out and about with your father more often, helping him out when you went shopping, even occasionally venturing to town by yourself, buying things you needed, even just window shopping.

The very same boutique you’d found yourself in on the first day back in Wyoming had seemed to be your choice for today, finding that looking around, occasionally running your hand over a pair of jeans, was a small bit of therapy that helped detrimentally.

Even just chatting to Niki had been a way to feel normal again, even if your snapchat’s flirtiness had seemed to get a little bit lighter, there was still a comforting feeling whenever you received messages from him.

Getting lost in your own thoughts had always been something you did, so it made sense that you hadn’t noticed the presence behind you, not until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Immediately, you were confused, turning to look at who had tapped you, the woman seeming to be a stranger at first, a grin plastered over her face.

“Hey, you!”

When she spoke as if she knew you, your brows furrowed, as far as you could recall, she didn’t seem familiar, at least not for the first few seconds that you stared at her face.

As you replaced the blonde head of hair on her head with a dark auburn in your mind, removed the glasses, your brows rose as you finally realised just who it was standing in front of you.

“Montana.” you breathed, suddenly feeling rude for not recognising her at first, though you couldn’t exactly be blamed for that.

Montana had been an interesting one in high school. Not a bully, at least not in the classic sense, but there were certain comments made, times you’d walk past her and her friends only to hear a chorus of giggles and whispers. Things that made you feel like you were going insane.

“The one and only.” she laughed, smiling at you so brightly you’d never in a million years think she was the same girl who used to give you judging looks when it was time to present in class, the same girl who’d give the occasional compliment that couldn’t feel anything but backhanded.

Realising that you’d only been staring across at her like an idiot, you gathered yourself, smiling hesitantly.

“Right. How- how are you?”

“Oh y’know, same old, same old. Lookin’ after the kids, workin’.” 

You nodded along as she spoke, drilling on about her kids, the school teacher she didn’t get along with, allowing her to fill you in on her life as you could do nothing but sit there and listen to her speak, seeming to find no break in the conversation to politely leave.

“But anyway, why i came over here.” she laughed, already revealing openly that there was already a motive in approaching you. “Me and a few girlfriends were gonna go have a bit of a girls night tomorrow? Dinner, some nice gossip. We were thinkin’ you should come!”

Questionable, you weren’t really sure how to respond. In high school, the chance to be invited into her little circle of friends would have been an opportunity you leaped at with open arms, a chance to be accepted as part of her group.

“I’m not sur,e Montana, I have-”

“Oh come on! Far as i’ve heard, you’ve just been cooped up in the house.”

There it was again, conversation that felt like an interrogation, words very purposefully chosen to beat you down ever so lightly, without being obvious.

“You gotta go and have some fun!”

It would have been so easy to just say no, to politely decline and tell her that you just didn’t want to hang out with her and her friends; Yet somewhere deep inside you, there was a sixteen-year-old girl that still desperately wanted to be accepted and liked.

“Alright.” you surrendered, watching her satisfactorily raise her hands, shimmying her shoulders excitedly.

“Amazing! We’ll be meeting at that steak place down the street, bout 8, that work for you?”

You could recall where she met, remembering that you’d passed it more than a few times during your time in town, nodding as you spoke.

“Okay, yeah. That sounds.. That sounds nice.”

She smiled at you once more, taking a hand in yours.

“Im so excited.”

With that final sentence, she turned and began to walk off, calling out a “See you there!” as she exited the clothing shop, the bell ringing behind her. 

You weren’t even sure yourself why you’d said yes, assuring yourself that it’d be good to hang out with someone other than your father, to be in the presence of some other women, and hopefully even have a nice time.

While you weren’t necessarily a fan of small town gossip, it would have been a lie if you’d said you weren’t even the littlest bit interested in the goings-on’s of everyone in this small town, to hear what had become of all of your old classmates.

There was definitely something about the idea of simply being a young woman out with friends that was drawing you in, the promise of normality.

As you exited the store with a smile on your face, beginning to mull over what you might wear, you allowed the anticipation to take over completely.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @foreverchangingmind . @tsukikyo . @marsupialnoises . @iknowrocknroll . @astromilku . @dragoste-lunes . @articel1967 . @jonnybernthalslover . @chili4prez . @cosm-0-nauts . @its-just-me-rin . @cultof-saints . @amazingishlivy .

[uconndallas]

Name: Whiteout

A/N: As mentioned in my last post this will be the final chapter of Whitout. I appreciate everyone who read this series so much! I'll see you guys in the next!

Summary: Paige and Azzi have been roommates all their college years teammates on the court but worlds apart off it. When a surprise snowstorm traps them together on campus overnight, old tensions boil up, and buried feelings start to surface. As the campus shuts down and the night stretches on, the walls between them begin to crumble. But can they face what’s really been hiding beneath the surface before the morning comes?

Chapter Five: After

Morning arrived quietly, like a breath.

The storm had passed. Outside the window, everything was hushed and white, the kind of stillness that comes only after something has ended and something new is waiting to begin. The world was covered in a soft layer of snow, untouched and glowing faintly in the pale light of dawn.

Inside, Paige woke first.

Azzi was curled into her side, her head resting just below Paige’s collarbone, one arm tucked around her waist like she had every right to be there. Paige hadn’t moved for hours. She didn’t want to break the spell.

For the first time in what felt like years, Paige’s chest didn’t feel tight. There was no weight pressing behind her ribs, no words clawing to get out. Just warmth. Just breath. Just Azzi.

They had kissed again, slow and careful and then not careful at all. But more than that they’d talked. Really talked. They had peeled back the years and misunderstandings and silence, piece by piece, until all that was left was the truth: that neither of them had stopped wanting this.

Wanting each other.

Paige glanced at the clock. The power was still out, but the battery was working 7:03 AM. Outside, somewhere beyond the window, the campus would slowly come back to life. Someone would shovel the steps. There would be texts from teammates checking in. The real world would start creeping back in soon.

But not yet.

Azzi stirred beside her. She made a soft, sleepy sound and blinked up at Paige.

“You’re awake,” she murmured, voice scratchy and quiet.

Paige smiled. “Barely.”

Azzi shifted, propping herself up slightly on one elbow. Her hair was a mess. She had pillow lines on her cheek. Paige had never wanted to kiss someone more in her life.

Instead, she just looked at her. “Hi.”

Azzi smiled back. “Hi.”

They stayed like that for a moment. Just looking.

Then Azzi said, “That wasn’t a dream, right?”

Paige reached up and gently touched her cheek. “No. It wasn’t.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Good. I just… I’ve thought about waking up next to you for a long time. I didn’t want it to disappear.”

“It’s not going anywhere,” Paige said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered, uncertainty passing across her face.

“But what about… all of it?” she asked. “The team. Our friends. People asking questions. Us trying to be… something. Again.”

Paige nodded. “It’ll be weird, yeah. But I think it’ll be worth it.”

“You’re sure?”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “I am.”

Azzi watched her, like she was waiting for the doubt to creep in.

But it didn’t.

“We lost time,” Paige said. “And yeah, I hate that. But we’re here now. We know better now. We don’t have to keep holding our breath.”

Azzi lowered her gaze, thoughtful. “Do you think we can really just… pick back up?”

Paige considered that. Then shook her head. “No. I don’t want to. I don’t want to pretend we’re the same as we were. We’re not. But maybe that’s the point.”

Azzi gave a small laugh. “We’re older. Wiser. Slightly more emotionally competent.”

“Slightly,” Paige echoed, smiling.

Azzi’s hand found Paige’s under the blanket, fingers slipping between hers like it was second nature.

“So what now?” Azzi asked.

Paige pulled her close again. “Now we take it one day at a time. You and me.”

Azzi closed her eyes. “That sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah,” Paige whispered. “But I’m not scared of it with you.”

They lay in silence again, the kind that didn’t need filling.

Outside, the snow had begun to melt, dripping softly from the eaves. Somewhere below, someone was shoveling the walkway. The hum of life was returning.

Eventually, Paige reached for her phone. Still no signal. But that felt okay. The world could wait a little longer.

Azzi nudged her. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” Paige said. “But not enough to move.”

Azzi grinned. “Good. Me neither.”

They stayed in bed for a while longer, tangled and warm beneath the blankets. When they finally got up Azzi still in Paige’s hoodie, Paige in Azzi’s sweats they made coffee with melted snow and heated it over a tea light. It was terrible.

They laughed until their stomachs hurt.

Later, they sat on the windowsill, watching students emerge from dorms bundled in coats, some slipping on the ice, others calling out to each other like nothing had changed. Like the world hadn’t been held in pause.

Paige turned to Azzi.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“If I had said something sooner… if I’d told you that morning I wanted more would it have changed anything?”

Azzi was quiet. Then: “I think we had to lose each other first. To realize we didn’t want to again.”

Paige nodded, her throat tight.

Azzi reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Paige’s cheek. “But I’m glad we found our way back.”

“Me too.”

They leaned into each other as the sun broke through the clouds, lighting the snow in gold.

It wasn’t a perfect ending.

But it was the beginning of something that could be.

And this time, they’d get it right.

[falloutrebellion]

Say Yes to Heaven Part VI

Soulmark Fluff/Smut request from @hoohamaru 🫶🏼

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summary: Your skills have secured you a job as a chef for Lady Tsunade's inauguration, providing you with a chance to finally leave your village and explore the world. Unfortunately, you unlock your clan's mysterious Soulmate Kekkei Genkai when you encounter a certain white-haired Jonin. In denial, you attempt to ignore it, only to drive him absolutely mad. How long can you resist before fate intervenes?

*Now edited with new cover image*

Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V.

CW: Adult Language & Adult Themes

Now on AO3!

I apologize for the delay. I broke my hand, so I have been typing with one hand, and it's taking me twice as long to get through these chapters. But here is the next one!

Kakashi spent the night. You didn’t mean for it to happen, but he was relentless—all hands, mouth, and hips. If you’re being honest, you couldn’t stop him if you wanted to. You’re just as addicted as he is, if not worse. 

Which is why you lie in bed in the early morning sun, your heart thumping so loud you swear he can hear it as he spoons you. His heartbeat was calm, a soothing, steady thud you can feel pressed against your back. 

And it reminds you how fucked you are. 

There is no denying it now— Kakashi has activated your Kekkei Genkai. All the unexplainable pieces fit together. How you can sense him, smell him, and now even hear his thoughts. It felt surreal, of all people in your clan, and I’m the one to unlock this stupid dojutsu. Just my god damned luck, you think to yourself with an internal groan. The gods must really hate you to trap you like this. Trapped to love this handsome, silver-haired Jonin. Which is not horrible, in theory, but what about your freedom to love? Freedom to pick and choose? And what if he didn’t actually like you, but was just controlled by the Un Mei No Hito? What then? He’s stuck with someone he doesn’t truly love, and you’re the manipulative one to do it to him. And besides, you’re in no rush for anything. There are too many eligible bachelors in this village to fall for the first one. Hell, you didn’t even get to fuck Genma yet… 

As if stirred by your thoughts, Kakashi’s arms tightened around your waist, holding you more possessively. You held your breath and didn’t move a muscle, as if you were afraid to wake him. His warmth enveloped you, traveling between your legs as his fingertips lightly dug into your skin.

Flashbacks from last night hit you like a wave, and your cheeks flush red, remembering the many dirty thoughts Kakashi had. Some of them he acted on, but others… well, let’s just say, he’d be 50 shades of red if he knew that could see into some of his thoughts.

That man is a freak. 

And you like him, a lot, actually. However, you currently can’t think of anything but him. He was in every corner of your mind, burying himself there and making it home. You knew it was the same for him, and that’s probably why he’s been coming after you like a dog in heat. You loved his pursuit, really, it was nice to be chased, and the dynamic you seemingly had over him was… useful. 

He is a man obsessed, and it felt great. 

But also terrifying. What happens now that your Kekkei Genkai has been activated? According to legend, after the first kiss, the two soulmates become forever entwined with each other, with fate always leading them back to one another. You two had done far more than kiss… so what does that mean? Is Kakashi under a spell, or is he truly falling for you– and are you falling for him? If not, will you really be stuck with him forever? Even if you leave–

“Are you holding your breath?”

You gasp and jump as Kakashi’s sudden, unexpected voice harshly pulls you from your inner line of questioning. His arms reflexively hold you in place, pulling you even closer to him, your rear flush against a familiar hardness. His thoughts went back to last night, the same ones you were just thinking of, and then another horrific question was raised in your mind. 

Can he hear your thoughts, too? 

You curse yourself internally, flooded with a massive mix of emotions as you feel a kiss planted on your shoulder. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you manage to squeak out. The heat from his body was seeping into yours, sending shocks throughout your nervous system. 

“Right,” he said matter-of-factly. 

Flustered, you roll over to face him, both of you fully naked and tangled in your sheets. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He had that shit eating grin planted in his face and you narrowed your eyes as you stared at his beautiful features. “Oh, nothing.” 

You scrunch your nose and roll back over dramatically, pulling the sheets with you. “Ugh, you’re insufferable.” 

“You didn’t think so last night,” he chimes back as he squeezes your hips. 

Flipping back over to glare at him, you get planted with a kiss on your lips before you get a word out. He takes advantage of your open mouth by claiming it for his own, and his powerful effect weakens your resolve immediately. His energy captivated you entirely, his very essence pulsing through your veins. It caused your body to tremble under his touch involuntarily, reminding you of the power of your Kekkei Genkai. Your reactions fed his, as if he were set on consuming you while gripping you wildly. The electricity is back, lapping at your skin and down to your core.

And your body craves the connection like a drug, because you feel high as he devours you. Moaning into his mouth, you can feel the corner of his lips pulling upward in a smirk. You pry your hand between your bodies to his chest, pulling away enough to catch your breath. 

“You’re an asshole,” you mutter before he flips you on your back, resting between your thighs. 

“So we’re back to that?” He jokes as he looks over your body, taking in every curve that the sunlight touches. 

“Mhm, and I am wrecked, by the way. So, thanks. Did you forget I stand all day for a living?” You complain with a dramatic pout, the soreness in your limbs becoming ever apparent as he pressed against you. 

“I don’t have it much better,” Kakashi retorts lightly as his fingers foxtrot over your skin. 

“True, I don’t envy you, but you’re in far better shape than I am. And let’s not forget— oh fuck!” Talk of work reminded you that you were to attend a meeting with the Hokage this morning, something about the Leaf hosting an event. So, in other words, an imperative meeting. 

Pushing Kakashi off, you immediately run to the dresser with shaky legs and pull out a fresh pair of clothes before throwing them on the sink as you fish through the linen closet for your favorite towel. 

“Uh, is everything alright?” You hear Kakashi question you with confusion as he lies on the bed. 

“I forgot I’m supposed to meet Lady Tsunade this morning, which I have 23 exact minutes until I need to be there. So,” you lean in the doorway of the bathroom to throw him a look as he raises a brow, “do with that information what you will.” You say shortly before turning on the shower. 

You hear him say something, but the water muffles it, so you ignore it and hastily brush your hair and teeth before jumping in. The steam was already forming on the mirror as Kakashi pulled the curtains open and climbed into your shower to join you, causing another mini jump scare. What’s up with this guy? How is he so Goddamn quiet? It wasn’t long before his hands caressed your wet body gently, moving your damp hair to the side as he joined you underneath the water. It was incredibly intimate, and Gods above, it felt so good; it made your heart jump through your chest as his lips trailed feather-light kisses down your neck. 

You gasp as he slides his hand over your hip and dips between your legs, runs his fingers over your center. Squeezing his fingers, he pinches your clit between them, chuckling darkly behind you as your hips buck. “You’re distracting,” you breathe out raggedly, grinding against his hand in a circular motion.

“You’re distracting,” he murmurs darkly against your neck before releasing you. 

You can’t help but sigh in disappointment at the loss of contact, immediately longing for his touch again. Great, that’s going to be annoying. You’ll have to work all day thinking about him and what he’s doing to your body, mind, and heart. What the fuck is going to happen now? 

 “17 minutes,” Kakashi reminded you from behind as you turned to wash the soap out of your hair, now facing him. 

“Ugh, I’m going to have wet hair.” You complained as you two watched each other, both of you casually washing yourselves as if this was an everyday occurrence. Why the hell does this just feel… normal? 

It has to be your Un Mei No Hito; Kakashi’s presence is triggering these thoughts and reactions. Its powers were affecting you both, and if you weren’t around, maybe the connection would weaken. Perhaps that was the key—distance. If he’s not around, your senses would dull, and then your brain could form normal thoughts again. Right?

Well, soon you will be able to answer that question. You’re going to have to avoid him for as long as you can to test your theory. Which, in reality, you were not looking forward to. 

The shower only lasted a few more minutes, but Kakashi’s hands wandered many more times, leaving you in a shaky, miserable state.

“I hate you,” you say as you throw him a look, tugging on your shirt and pants. 

“Whatever for?” His grin is back, and you get one last glimpse before he pulls his mask up and he’s back to his usual… clothed, self. 

Your eyes narrow as you attempt to towel dry your hair again. “You know exactly what, asshole.” Checking your outfit in the mirror, you continue. “Also, now that I know what your face looks like, that mask is going to drive me insane.”

“Ooh, I like the crazy ones.” He chuckles as you throw a glare at him. 

“You drive me crazy,” you mutter as you retreat to the bathroom for a quick sweep of makeup before getting set to leave. 

“Maybe that’s the goal,” he chides as he leans against the doorway, hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“I promise you don’t want to see my crazy,” you warn playfully, even though you fully mean it. With one final flick of mascara, you turn to leave and find yourself face-to-face with his broad frame.

“Is that a challenge?”

He’s looking down at you now, his tone shifting, the teasing lilt replaced by something deeper. Your lashes flutter, and you look away, suddenly feeling that flash of electricity again, threatening to stop your heart. You wanted to tell him then, explain that all this was just your Kekkei Genkai, that it wasn’t their actual feelings. It was just a trivial thing that caused them to want each other. Because why else would you feel like this? How can you both fluster each other so effortlessly? Why does being so close to him twist your insides like this? He deserves to know, so he can try to separate these feelings from reality. 

But you don’t. 

Instead, you turn back and smile at him, playing off your inner turmoil. “Guess you’ll just have to see.” You say in as playful a tone as you can muster before placing a hand on his chest to push him out of the way lightly. 

Kakashi chuckles, a light sound you find strangely comforting, as he follows you out after you slip on your shoes.

“Guess I’ll see you around,” you say awkwardly, locking the door while he towers over you, studying your face with that curious eye of his.

“Well, I certainly hope so.” His singular eye searches you, as if sensing some apprehension.

“Yeah,” your heart pangs as you look up at him through your lashes. “Have fun training your genin today; don’t let them work you too hard.” 

You’re trying not to tell yourself to run, to escape this, escape him. To escape this handsome, kind, strong man who seemingly adores you for no reason. And that’s the thing that breeds your doubt- the lack of reason. He doesn’t truly feel this way; it’s just you twisting his mind and feelings. A part of you aches to explain that these feelings could be mere manifestations of your dojutsu, not genuine affection. But how? 

You felt guilty, as if you were luring a fox to a trap. 

Yet, every fiber in your being yearned for him, even now, as he stood before you with a narrowed eye, assessing you as you rake through your mind. 

“They won’t work me as hard as you did, that’s for sure.”

His words send a rush of warmth to your cheeks, and you hurriedly look away. He gently pulls your chin up with two fingers, tilting your face toward him. As he lowers his mask just enough to expose his lips, he places a tender kiss on your mouth, and your heart feels like it's about to combust. It’s a simple gesture, yet it leaves you reeling. You wonder if he would still do that if he knew the truth, or if the kiss was just another thread weaving you together. 

“Have a good day at work, neighbor.” He smiles, a softness in his gaze that makes your heart sink and soar all at once, before he turns to leave, waving with that effortless charm.

As he walks out of view, your mind races. Days like today make you want to believe in the connection, to ignore the tug of doubt. Yet, the thought lingers—what if this is all a trick of your lineage? Would he truly want you if not for that bond?

You take in a deep breath, fighting back the wave of uncertainty. Caught between being convinced you’re destined for an illusory fate and the possibility of genuine affection, you can only hope that the truth of your feelings is more than just a consequence of fate’s design.

With a heavy sigh, you trek off in the opposite direction, walking as fast as you can without running. You were really cutting it close, and the Hokage had seemed pressed about speaking with you this morning. The streets were just starting to wake up, with the early morning chatter and scent of baked goods flooding around you as you finally laid eyes on the familiar red building ahead of you.

Your final descent into the building passed your arrival time threshold, much to your despair. As you speed walk up to Lady Tsunade’s office, the air shifts, heavy with the weight of an unexpected uneasiness. You step into the office two minutes late, and you’re ready to begin spilling apologies before realizing she was talking to a tall man with a faceplate and short-cropped brown hair, her head in her hands as he practically whispered. You stand there dumbly and too afraid to move, watching their tense exchange silently. Your mind wanders helplessly, and you can’t shake the tumultuous feelings you’ve been grappling with since you left Kakashi. You felt anxiety rising, pondering how much you trust yourself and your feelings—debating what is real and what’s not, as if you had some kind of factual basis. Just as your thoughts begin to spiral, you notice Tsunade's serious expression shadowed by her laced fingers.

“Understood. If there are any further sightings, notify me immediately. You’re dismissed,” Lady Tsunade commanded with a sigh and a small wave of her hand. 

The man simply nodded before turning to leave, his eyes meeting yours before giving you the same curt nod. 

“Sorry for the delay, you can come in,” the Hokage says with a sigh. 

Luckily, no one even noticed you were late, so you played it off with a small smile. “No worries at all, m’lady. You said you had some news you wanted to discuss?” 

“Yes,” she drops her hands, and her expression softens.

Shizune steps forward with a clipboard in her hands, a scowl displayed across her face. 

“Lady Tsunade has somehow forgotten to mention that we are hosting a summit this week for all the great Kages. We need you to cater the event. You did such a great job for her inauguration, we figured that you would be capable and up for the task.”

A knot tightens in your stomach. "Oh, you want me to cater the event?" Cooking for the Hokage was enough pressure. But all five Kages? And in a matter of a few days? That was a lot to think about when your mind was drowning itself with endless thoughts of Kakashi. “But—”

“Yes, I want you,” she interrupts gently yet firmly. “Your skills in the kitchen and attention to detail reflect our village's hospitality. We need to impress our allies and show we are strong and unified in the face of danger.”

You look at her and try to hide your shock. “I uh, would be more than honored. But that’s a massive task in such a short time. You’re giving me three days to prepare.” You say more in a way to confirm more than anything.

Tsunade’s expression shifts as if in guilt. “Yes, but we are sure you can manage. Their entourages will be limited, so it won’t be a massive event like you did before. Your focus for the summit will be quality over quantity, but I don’t think I have to tell you that.”

As you absorb her words, determination begins to seep into your veins. She was right, there is no one better suited for a culinary challenge like you, and the stress may help get your mind off a certain silver-haired shinobi. “I’ll do it. I’ll ensure the Leaf appears as strong as ever, in any way I can.” But even as you say it, you feel a tightening in your chest at the thought of Kakashi. No matter how much you avoid him, you know you can’t truly escape him. He would definitely be at the summit—no doubt about it. 

Your mind drifts back to your unresolved feelings for him. How will you face him, knowing the turmoil that lies inside you? You have been trying to convince yourself that the attraction was just a trick of fate due to your Kekkei Genkai, but a truth tugs at your heart. What if it were real? What if the bond you felt for him was genuine? 

With the minimal information about the Un Mei No Hito, you were practically stuck dealing with it through trial and error. Or simply, just figuring it the fuck out. It was a horrible feeling that made you feel lost and trapped in something you knew nothing about. Your mind ran wild, teetering between both sides of the spectrum— believing your feelings were true, and the dark side that it was all just a sick spell you unknowingly cast upon Kakashi. 

Part of you truly feels the need to distance yourself from him while you sort through these emotions—the need to find clarity in this chaos of mixed signals and connections.

When you think of Kakashi, clips of him flood your mind: The way his eyes spark with mischief, how his laughter sends flutters through your chest, those moments when his gazes linger a bit too long. Yet, as wonderful as those moments are, your doubts shadow them. You can’t let this confusion cloud your judgment or complicate your responsibilities- or your entire future. 

You nod mechanically, trying to push those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the urgency of the task at hand. “I’ll need a list of the leaders attending and their preferences. Menu planning will be crucial,” you say decisively.

Tsunade seems pleased with your determination, and as she begins to outline the details, you make a mental note to avoid Kakashi in the lead-up to the summit. You’ve just been handed the golden egg of distractions, giving you a solid three days to figure it out. 

As the two of you plan out the logistics, your mind darts between excitement and anxiety—the tension of upcoming discussions mixed with the quiet dread of potential encounters with Kakashi. Could you really ignore him? 

And if you do, how will he handle it? 

The prospect of evading him during the preparation feels daunting, but you are adamant about seeing this through, to find out if what you and Kakashi have is real. As you contemplate the endless tasks before you, from menu planning to ensuring that every detail meets Tsunade's high standards, your determination to focus on the summit grants solace.

After discussing the expected number of attendees, the menu options range from traditional Konoha favorites to more exotic dishes from the neighboring lands. “This is crucial,” Tsunade says. “We want to impress the other leaders and show subtle strength. You won’t be doing this alone; our most elite Shinobis will be attending to show our skilled forces. And if you need any assistance, it will be available to you. I have the utmost faith in you.”

The excitement of planning fuels your resolve. You write down the titles of dishes, opinions about appetizers, and desserts flowing between you and Tsunade. Each scribbled note reveals a burgeoning sense of purpose, giving you a way to channel your energy into something productive while you mentally navigate your feelings for Kakashi. As the meeting wraps up, you exit the office, your heart still dancing between the fraught emotions of longing and duty. Stepping out to the streets, the refreshing breeze blows through your hair, drying the sweat that beaded at the back of your neck. Though the task was daunting, it provided you with a much-needed distraction to act on your experiment. With each step you take, your heart falters, unprepared for the grueling task of avoiding Kakashi Hatake.

The angst shall commence! But won't last too long 🤔

Tag List * @phantomvlood @hoohamaru

[netflixbingger]

Cassian Andor x Senators Daughter Reader Series Sneak Peek 👀

Okay yes… I know I haven’t finished the last series yet (I swear I will, next chapter is out soon!!)

But I’ve been fleshing out this new one and… I kind of love it??

I’m really leaning into soft girl vibes with this one… something we don’t get enough of with Cassian, if you ask me 👀

So without further ado, here’s a little sneak peek of Chapter 1!!!

You wake to the sound of your name.

Not softly, not in the dreamy sort of way it usually is when your maids draw the curtains and ask what you’d like for breakfast. No, this time it’s firm, clipped—your father’s voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

“You need to get up.”

You roll over with a groan, dragging the sheet over your head like it’s armor. “It’s not even nine.”

“It’s past nine.”

“So?” you mutter, muffled by your silk sheets and stubbornness.

There’s a beat of silence. Then: “We don’t have time for this today.”

You peek out from under the sheet, squinting up at him. He’s already dressed - navy coat, clean lines, expression tight in that way that means something’s happened. Something real.

That pulls you upright.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, silk nightgown slipping against your skin as you blink yourself into the day. Your room is still a dream - soft golds, tall windows, sunlight spilling in like honey. It doesn’t feel like anything could be wrong here.

But your father’s jaw says otherwise.

“What?” you ask, voice still scratchy from sleep.

He hesitates, just for a moment, and then exhales.

“There’s been chatter,” he says. “The Empire’s been sniffing around the shipments. They’re starting to notice the rerouted funds. And now… there’s a name.”

A pit opens in your stomach.

He shakes his head is disbelief. “It’s only a matter of time before they connect the rest.”

You cross your arms. “Then we tighten things. We move accounts again. We wait it out.”

“We can’t wait this out,” he says, and now he’s really looking at you - like a father, not a senator. “They’ve already made contact with the district enforcers. One wrong whisper, one loose-tongued dinner guest, and —.”

You narrow your eyes. “I haven’t told anyone anything. I’m not stupid.”

“No,” he agrees quietly. “You’re not. Which is why you’re going to listen when I say this…your freedom, the way you move, the life you’ve had until now - it’s over.”

That stings more than you expect.

You blink at him. “Excuse me?”

He softens, just a breath. “We don’t have that anymore. The luxury of pretending.”

“So what then?” you snap. “You want me to stay inside all day like some ghost? Be quiet, be good, smile politely while the Empire circles us like vultures?”

“No,” he says, and you hate how calm he is. “I want you to stay alive.”

You stand there, breathing hard. Heat pools behind your eyes, and you hate that too.

“Someone will be arriving shortly,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “From the Rebellion. A soldier. He’ll be stationed here until we can get you out. Maybe longer.”

You stare at him. “You’re giving me a babysitter?”

“I’m giving you a bodyguard.”

“What’s the difference?”

He only sighs. “You’ll find out.”

———————————————————————

You slip into a soft summer dress. Pale yellow, low at the back, open at the shoulders. Something expensive and breezy. It hugs you in all the right places. Your skin glows. Your hair falls in loose waves. You look stunning, and you know it.

You descend the stairs slowly, heels clicking with deliberate grace. When you reach the bottom, you pause at the final step - because there he is.

Your new shadow.

He’s talking to your father in the foyer. Dressed in black worn boots, flight jacket, stubble on his jaw like he’s never been taught what proper grooming is. He’s not tall, not particularly broad, but something about him feels… dense. Sharp around the edges.

He looks like someone who doesn’t smile unless he has to.

As if sensing you, he turns.

And for one moment, his eyes flicker down. Barely.

Then they’re back on your face, unreadable.

You arch a brow. “So. You’re the watchdog.”

He doesn’t reply.

Your father sighs. “Cassian Andor, this is my daughter Y/N.”

———————————————————-

Thoughts?!?

This one’s definitely leaning softer… less gore, less darkness, more fluff, tension, and slow-burn vibes.

I’m still debating whether to take it down a heavy sexual tension to smut path, or keep it more focused on the fluff and emotional build-up.

Would love to hear your thoughts!

Do you prefer smutty tension or tender romance?

[leaderwon]

CHAPTER 46 — KISS ME, THEN LEAVE

wc — 600+

prev — masterlist — next

It starts with rain.

The sky is an open wound, spilling over the campus in sheets, drenching everything in silver. Thunder growls low and long, like it’s waiting for something. Or someone. You’re not sure why you didn’t check the forecast, why you didn’t bring an umbrella, why your heart starts racing when you realize the only shelter nearby is the old library building — the one that barely anyone uses now.

You’re soaked by the time you step inside, water trailing down your arms and pooling beneath your shoes. The door creaks shut behind you. And he’s there.

Sunghoon.

He’s leaning against a bookshelf, a paperback in hand, hair slightly mussed like he’s been here a while. When he looks up, the air shifts. You feel it immediately. A sharp, silent ripple that passes between you both like static.

He doesn’t say anything at first.

Neither do you.

You’re shivering, your clothes sticking to your skin, your heart doing the kind of thing that hearts only do when they’re about to change everything.

"You're drenched," he finally says, his voice soft, cautious. Like if he speaks too loudly, something fragile will break. You shrug. "Didn’t expect rain."

A beat. Then, "You always forget your umbrella."

The weight of his words settles in your chest. He remembers. The little things. Always has.

You swallow. It’s unbearable, the silence that follows, filled with too many things left unsaid. You want to scream. You want to run. You want to—

"I broke up with Daniel," you blurt, and your voice echoes a little too loudly in the high ceilinged space.

His brows lift, but he doesn’t move. "Why?" You look down. "Because he was right. I was lying to myself." Sunghoon sets the book down gently. He doesn’t interrupt. He waits.

You step closer. "I’ve been avoiding it. You. Everything. Because I was scared. Because I thought maybe if I stayed busy enough or distracted myself with someone else, the feelings would just — go away."

"And did they?" You shake your head. "No. Not even for a second."

The room feels heavier now. The air between you charged and thick.

He takes a slow step forward, and it’s so quiet you hear the raindrops tapping the windows like impatient fingers. He’s right in front of you now. So close, you can see the tiny mole under his jaw. The way his lashes clump slightly from the humidity.

"This isn’t fair to you," you whisper. "I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even know if I’m ready for this. I just know that I can’t stop thinking about you."

He reaches up — his fingers brushing a wet strand of hair from your cheek, tucking it gently behind your ear. And in that moment, something shifts again. You see it in his eyes — the war, the surrender, the longing.

And then he kisses you.

It’s not gentle. It’s not hesitant.

It’s desperate.

His lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting a lifetime. Like he’s angry. Like he’s alive. Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, grounding yourself. Everything disappears — your confusion, the past, the storm outside.

Until he pulls away.

Breathless. Chest heaving.

He takes a step back, shaking his head, eyes filled with something you don’t understand yet. Something heavier than disappointment. More fragile than anger.

"You’re not ready."

It punches the air from your lungs.

"Sunghoon—"

"Don’t," he says, and he’s already stepping further away. "Don’t say anything. I know you think you’re ready. But you’re not. And I can’t do this again. I won’t be someone you run to just because you’re lost."

Your chest is a cavern. Hollow and echoing.

"It wasn’t like that," you say, voice cracking.

He just looks at you. Quiet. Wounded.

"I love you," you whisper.

And he smiles — sad, soft, shattering.

"Then learn how to love yourself first."

He turns. Walks away.

The door creaks open again. The rain hasn’t stopped. You’re alone.

But this time, the silence doesn’t feel empty.

It feels like something beginning.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[shellsstardew]

you made me ship shelliot so hard it's not even funny 😭 like normally im not super into rarepairs bc it seems ppl ship them just to ship them but i legit see where you're coming from, especially in the same context as your comic where their story begins after elliot moves in. i actually love your comic i cannot wait for the next part (not trying to pressure you obv). ive never gotten too many hearts with either of them but your characterization just feels so accurate like i feel like I could see your story with their dialogue happening in the game and it wouldn't feel out of place at all. and also finally (oops ive been rambling), your art style isn't overly detailed but the facial expressions/body language/like perspective i guess of the characters, especially shane and elliot on the dock is so well done, the small changes in positioning work so well to communicate the change in their body language and its just really impressive.

sorry i yapped or if it was weird or something i promise i was not trying to come off weird 😭😭😭 i just really admire good fanworks such as yours and it's important to tell authors/creators that they're doing well and yeah

also if you (or anyone else) has any shelliot fic recommendations i would loveee to hear them :>

No but seriously it's so funny that your like "I hope I'm not being weird" meanwhile I reread over and over your super thoughtful message to keep me going 😭

YOU GUYS DON'T REALIZE I NEED THOSE HYPER DETAILED COMPLIMENT or my stupid brain will go like "Okay time to think you're worthless and that what you're doing doesn't matter"

No I can point at the screen and say "See? 👉📱 SEE?! 👉👉📱?" and it's putting another coin in the machine hehe

Anyway, thank you so much 😭

AND YES I HAVE FICS TO RECOMMEND! ONCE AGAIN, @cutethulu you know the drill hehe

Camellia Station, by Awdrey (Explicit - but it's only one short smut scene in the last chapter for now)

Now it's still in progress (updating once a month) and they still didn't smooch yet, but that's what you get when you fall into the Shelliott rabbit hole, hehe, you can't be picky

It's really well written and the author and I have a lot of similarities in our interpretations of Shane and Elliott :) Go give it some love!

Also some one shots by @mongoosingisme that I really love :

Untitled Shelliott Ranch Project

Herding cats (Explicit - Shane/Elliott/fem!farmer)

And UHHH maybe you've seen it already but I wrote one about Shells, it's an alternate ending to part 34 (it's my first one and I'm really proud of it teehee)

Shells, alternate ending, by shells_stardew (Explicit)

Also @visionofthebees wrote this one for me on the same concept :

One Shell of a Night, by Visionofthebees (Explicit)

Be warned it's EXTREMELLY SILLY and she didn't even reread it before posting, but I love it with all my heart it's so so funny hahaha

I love her so imma also recommend her Clint x Elliott fic too (yes yes you read that right, she's 10 degrees further than me on the crack ship scene) :

Falling Ore You (Explicit) (46 chapters, completed)

LISTEN SHE MAKES IT WORK OKAY! SHE REALLY DOES!

And also, check my bookmarks! They are some non-Shelliott stuff that I absolutely love in there! (BUT always ALWAYS check the tags before reading, there is also some dark stuff haha)

Here you go, hope I didn't recommend all the ones you already knew about, as we all know this is not an extremely popular ship so this is what we get, quality over quantity hahahaa 😭

[azzifudd10]

Somewhere To Land

Chapter 23: Things We Carry

Azzi’s Apartment – Monday Morning

The sunrise was soft, painting the windows a peachy gold. Eli had woken up early, fussy and clingy from the weekend travel, and Azzi had rocked him in her arms for over half an hour. Now he was finally calm, cheeks still flushed with sleep, head tucked into her chest.

Azzi sat on the couch in her robe, gently rubbing circles on his back.

“Okay, baby bear,” she whispered. “So, I know you can’t talk back yet, but I feel like you’re a really good listener. And I need that today.”

Eli squirmed a little, then relaxed again.

Azzi smiled down at him. “I think Mommy’s a little tired. Not just from the trip — from everything. I try to stay calm, y’know? For you. But sometimes I just want someone to say ‘Hey, you’re doing great,’ even if I don’t know if I am.”

She took a breath. “Paige had a hard time while we were gone. And I didn’t know. I thought giving her space was being kind, but maybe I should’ve checked in more. I’m learning too, Eli. Every day. About you, about her, about me.”

Her voice dropped into something even softer. “I just want you to grow up in a house where people talk about things. Where love means listening. Where no one ever feels alone.”

Eli cooed gently, lifting his sleepy head.

Azzi smiled. “Exactly. You're wise beyond your months, little man.”

Later That Morning – Paige’s Apartment

Paige hadn’t moved from the kitchen stool since Azzi came over. Her cereal was soggy, untouched, and her eyes were fixated on the countertop.

Azzi, dressed in leggings and a hoodie, sat across from her, elbows on the table, fingers laced together.

“Can we talk about what happened?” she asked gently.

Paige gave a small nod. “I… I didn’t even realize I was spiraling. Until it was too late.”

Azzi tilted her head. “You shut me out, babe. I’m not mad. But I need to know what happened in your head.”

Paige swallowed hard. “I think… when you left, it reminded me of before. When I’d be hurt, or off-season, and people would keep going without me. I’d be stuck, feeling useless. And it scared me that you — you and Eli — could move on too.”

Azzi’s chest ached. “Paige…”

“I know it’s stupid,” she rushed. “You’re not going anywhere. But it brought something up. Old stuff I didn’t know was still in me.”

Azzi reached across the table and took her hand. “That’s not stupid. That’s real. And I’m glad you told me.”

Paige looked up. “You’re not mad?”

“No,” Azzi said, voice low and sure. “But I do need you to promise me that next time — if there is a next time — you don’t go silent. Even if you don’t have the words, just let me in.”

Paige nodded. “I promise.”

They leaned across the table, foreheads touching, and for a long moment, just breathed.

Later That Night – Azzi’s Apartment

Eli was freshly bathed and cozy in his sleep sack, nestled against Azzi’s chest. She swayed back and forth gently in the nursery, moonlight spilling through the slats of the blinds.

“I had a good day,” she whispered into the top of his curls. “We talked about some hard things, but they were good. Important. Mommy and paigey are learning how to love each other the right way.”

She pressed a kiss to his soft forehead.

“Also,” she added, “I made a mean grilled cheese today. You’re gonna love grilled cheese one day.”

Eli sighed sleepily.

“And I might’ve cried a little while watching a commercial,” she said with a soft laugh. 

She paused, holding him closer.

“I hope when you’re older, you feel safe telling us how you feel. Even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.”

He didn’t respond, of course, but she knew he heard her. In his own little way.

Tuesday – Late Afternoon

Azzi opened the mailbox before heading upstairs with Eli on her hip, distractedly flipping through the stack of letters — bills, junk, a flyer for a new daycare they’d already passed on.

And then she stopped.

A legal-sized envelope. No return address. Just her name in bold type.

Her chest tightened.

She carried Eli inside, set him gently in the playpen, and sat at the kitchen table. Hands trembling, she opened the envelope and began reading.

Her heart dropped.

To: Azzi FuddRe: Legal Notification of Custody InterestFrom: The Law Offices of Kline & Barker, representing the paternal grandparents of Elijah Thomas Wright.

The words blurred for a second as panic surged.

“Paternal grandparents?” she whispered.

No.

No no no.

Tasha’s parents.

They had barely shown up after the funeral. Didn’t attend the hearing when Azzi was awarded custody. Hadn’t sent a birthday card or asked how Eli was doing.

And now… this?

Her stomach twisted.

A knock sounded at the door, sharp and sudden.

She jumped, breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she stood and opened it.

Paige stood on the other side, casual in joggers and a hoodie, holding takeout and smiling.

“Hey,” she said. “I brought your favorite—”

Azzi didn’t speak. Just handed her the letter with a shaking hand.

Paige’s smile faded as she took it, scanning quickly. Her face darkened.

“They’re trying to get custody?” she said, voice low.

Azzi nodded, lips pressed together to keep from crying.

Paige dropped the takeout on the counter and pulled her into a tight, protective hug.

“They are not taking him,” she whispered fiercely. “I swear to God, Azzi. We are not going to let them.”

Azzi broke then — silent tears soaking into Paige’s shoulder as Eli babbled softly in the background, completely unaware that his whole world had just been thrown into question.

the unopened voicemail on Azzi’s phone. From a number she doesn’t recognize. Timestamped from three hours ago.

"Hello, this is Sharon Wright — Elijah’s grandmother. I’d really like to speak to you before things get more complicated…"

[cryogeniccrush]

A Coin Flip Away - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Chapter Seven: Lucky Me, Stupid You, and One Hell of a First Date

Summary:

You emotionally blackmailed your way into love, and finally got Bucky Barnes to admit he’s yours. Naturally, that’s when the universe sends Mel—HR demon and clipboard enthusiast—to ruin your life. But not even she can stop what’s coming next: one rooftop confession, one hellish perfect date, and a kiss under the stars that might actually rewrite fate.

Will luck hold out? Maybe. Will you survive raccoons and feelings? Debatable. Is this the last chapter?

...unfortunately, yes.

But hey—if it had to end, at least it ended in boots, burgers, and Bucky freaking Barnes.

Warnings: mild language, soft rooftop confessions, implied trauma, kissing that might kill you, combat boots on a date, raccoon attacks, and Bucky Barnes being a smitten menace.

Word count: +3.5k

masterlist

You’d jumped on a grenade, emotionally blackmailed Bucky Barnes into caring, and maybe fallen in love with a group of unhinged weirdos who now called you “family.”

So you figured you deserved a day off.

You were wrong.

Because the universe didn’t care that your side still ached or that Bucky finally held your hand or that you were finally, maybe, almost happy.

No.

The universe gave you Mel.

---

Part One: She Came Back Like a Bad Credit Score

She showed up at the compound like she owned it.

Perfect hair. Perfect shoes. Clipboard clutched like it contained your death certificate.

“Temporary reassignment,” Valentina said through a video call, “and internal performance review. Don’t kill her.”

You smiled at the screen. “No promises.”

Mel wasted no time making herself the world’s worst roommate.

She criticized Bob’s posture, questioned Ava’s mission reports, suggested you were “too volatile to trust with leadership,” and worst of all—

She cornered Bucky.

Again.

You saw it from across the training floor. Her hand, brushing his arm. Her voice, all honey and poison.

You didn’t think.

You moved.

“Hey, Barbie,” you said, walking up and inserting yourself between them like a human wrecking ball. “Flirt with someone who won’t turn to dust under pressure.”

Mel blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry—did I stutter, or are you just stunned by my emotional growth?”

Bucky looked at you. Not annoyed. Not tense.

He looked like he was about to laugh.

Mel turned to him. “You’re seriously entertaining this?”

Bucky finally spoke.

“She jumped on a grenade for this team,” he said, voice calm but deadly. “What have you done besides judge people?”

She flushed. “I’m just doing my job.”

He looked past her. At you. “She’s mine. So do your job somewhere else.”

You smirked. “Told you he loved me.”

Mel stormed off. You blew her a kiss.

---

Part Two: The Truth About Luck

Later, when the compound finally quieted down and Mel’s shadow stopped lingering, Bucky found you on the rooftop—where you always went when the noise got too loud.

You sat on the ledge, legs swinging into open sky. He sat beside you, careful not to touch you yet.

“Talk to me,” he said. “About your power.”

You didn’t answer right away.

Most people thought luck was easy. A gift. Born lucky, stayed lucky.

But it wasn’t luck.

Not really.

“It’s not free,” you whispered. “Every time I twist chance, I feel it. The world pushes back. It gives me what I want—but it takes something, too. And it’s never certain. One day, maybe the universe decides I’ve had enough luck. That I don’t get to win anymore.”

He looked at you, horrified. “You never said—”

“Because no one would trust me with it if they knew. Because if the team thought my power could kill me at any moment, they’d make me stop.”

You turned to him.

“I’d rather burn myself out than let any of you die.”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“I don’t care. We’re going to find a way to not let that happen.”

You looked at him—really looked at him—and this time, you saw more than the soldier. You saw the man who stayed. The man who watched. The man who loved you, even if it terrified him.

You smiled, softly. “You really gonna let me drag you on a date after all this?”

He shook his head.

Then offered his hand. “I’m taking you on one.”

---

Part Three: The Date from Hell (And Somehow, Heaven)

You got dressed in your version of “trying”—which still included combat boots and a necklace shaped like a dice.

Bucky showed up in a dark shirt, hair half-tied back, with the faintest blush on his cheeks like he’d been thinking about this all day.

You knew he had.

The date plan?

Total chaos.

Alexei loaned you his motorcycle (“Try not to blow it up, kids”).

Yelena handed you a taser “just in case it gets boring.”

Bob packed snacks.

John tried to give Bucky advice. Bucky threatened to leap out of the quinjet.

You ended up: Eating burgers in the back of a truck under the stars

Getting chased by a wild raccoon when you tried to “borrow” flowers from a park

Slow dancing to a song playing from Bucky’s phone, your forehead pressed to his.

And somewhere between the fries and the moonlight—

He kissed you.

Slow.

Gentle.

Like he’d been waiting since the first time you said something insane just to make him flinch.

And you kissed him back like you’d been waiting to be seen. Fully. Finally.

When you pulled apart, you whispered, “So… wanna go steady, Barnes?”

He chuckled softly. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Probably,” you grinned. “But what a way to go.”

---

You went back to the compound hand in hand.

The team greeted you with smirks and badly disguised wolf whistles.

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t let go of him.

And for once, the luck that had always hovered like a storm around you?

Felt earned.

Because love wasn’t always lucky.

But it could be.

Thank you for reading this chaotic little disaster of a love story. Whether you stayed for the emotional damage, the flirt-fights, or the raccoon—thank you. You made this fun. ♡

[inkblackorchid]

THE EVIL IS DEFEATED

Fuck, now I need to hack this duel to pieces and put it in separate chapters after all, this is way too long...

[writingboutbrainrot]

All of Me Loaves All of You [ch2]

[ch0 | NOW ON A03]

Today was the big day. Louise was woken up way too early for her taste, 6 a.m., to go to the wedding venue. To save on costs the whole thing was very DIY - aside from renting a ballroom and hiring a caterer, no way was Bob Belcher catering at his own daughter’s reception and missing out on the important stuff. Besides, he still hated catering. 

So Louise had to be up at the buttcrack of dawn to go and help make sure everything was perfect. Which of course she was the perfect person for the overseeing of...just not for another few hours. Or at least 5 or so shots of espresso. Which she halfway downed on the drive with her parents and Gene.

Zeke’s cousin Leslie was already unfolding chairs outside when the Belchers arrived, a gaggle of children running around and not really helping. Who was helping though was a very tired looking blonde. Louise grimaced as Logan spun around, swinging a chair like Leatherface as he tried to not hit any of the children dashing about. He was very off balance and Louise sipped her caffeine and hoped she’d see him fall. Maybe he’d twist his ankle and someone else would have to stand it as best man. Leslie would be a suitable choice, he could even dance.

No such luck. Brown eyes squinted as the man righted himself and managed to set the chair down without incident. They then looked down at her just as dark coffee as the blonde started walking over with one of those smarmy little smirks of his.

“You gonna help with the labor or just stare at the workers?” he chided, arms crossed and that left brow of his raised so high Louise thought it may get lost in his bangs. Not bangs she could hide under like an umbrella if it rained, but a jungle that her fingers would probably get ensnared in if she- 

She blinked. Then she scoffed. “Unlike yooou, I have the all important job of making sure the bride doesn’t lose her shit. This means that I don’t have to do manual labor, thank you very much.”

Logan rolled his eyes and huffed a little, but then he motioned to the building. “Bride-not-zilla is in there with Susmita already.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but Louise spoke first,

“Great well you keep doing a mediocre job out here and I’m gonna go crush it in the dressing room.” 

She pushed past him, a little bit of coffee splashing his shirt and giving a “ha!” when he called out her name in an accusing whine. 

Dodging way too rambunctious children, Louise crossed the lawn and the ballroom. Then she cracked the door open for a decency check before sliding in. Linda had beelined when they arrived and was flitting about while Susmita handed a robed Tina a thermos.

“Bit early for vodka ain’t it?” Louise cracked. Her sister gave a sleepy glare. She shrugged and muttered, “Tough crowd,” and went to the pile of bags. She and her mom had put their stuff in the same bag and now was the time for Louise to dig around. They had a couple of hours before they were needed for the photoshoots, but Louise knew if she wanted to avoid manual labor she should get ready asap.

“Louise don’t you wanna lounge for a bit in the fancy robes?” Linda asked, waving a fluffy pink robe around. The question stopped Louise in her tracks. She stared at the cloth in question as it beckoned like a siren. If she put that on then not only would she not be forced out of the room, but she also wouldn’t have to use any effort to make herself up much earlier than she needed.

“Yes Mother, I would like to lounge in the fancy robes, thank you.” Louise agreed while putting down the bag. She took the robe from her mom and slid it over her pj’s. The microfiber fleece lulled her into a sense of security. How can Tina be grumpy in this?! she wondered for a moment. But then she remembered how little sleep everyone had gotten.

“Alright so. What’s the game plan Sus?” She decided it was going to be much better directing all inquiries to the bride’s maid who had it all together.

-x-x-x-

An hour of sitting around later and Louise found herself growing….bored. She was currently hanging upside down on the settee, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. Her coffee was gone and replaced with a mimosa flute. Which she was nursing because she felt like 8 am was too early for alcohol but Linda was still always ready to get a party started.

“Besides, Louise, a mimosa is a morning drink. It’s perfectly acceptable,” the older woman insisted while lifting her own flute up.

“It’s a brunch drink, Mom,” she countered with a smile. “Brunch starts at 11, 10 if you’re being generous.”

“9 am if you’re in the Philippines,” Susmita chimed in without looking away from her tablet. Louise heard a Level Up come from the device and caught Susmita grin.

Linda let out a tchk. “Ahhhh you girls and your cement-ticks.”

“Semantics, Mom,” Tina joined in. Her tea was finally kicking in, she still wasn’t allowed to have coffee after that whole espresso episode she had as a teen.

“What did I say?”

“Nevermind, Mrs. Belcher. Hey, do you know when Gretchen will be here?” Susmita asked, expertly redirecting the subject. Louise admired that. It was nice to have someone else who could handle the family.

And like magic, the door opened to reveal….Tammy and Jocelyn. Louise groaned the smallest amount. The two may have grown up over the years, and sure Louise and Tammy have had their fair share of “same wavelength” moments but... 

“Tinaaa, girl we’re heereee!” Tammy exclaimed with way too much energy for 8 in the morning. She made a type of shrill sound that Louise wasn’t sure she could describe. “I can’t believe you’re getting married today!”

“Yeaah you’re, like, making it so official today,” Jocelyn added in the same lilted monotone she’s always had. Her head turned to the minibar next. “Ooo is that orange juice?”

Some things don’t change and it was just too early. So Louise took this as her cue to stop hiding inside and flipped herself off the settee. “Whelp looks like you’ve got enough people to hold down the fort in here T, I’m gonna make sure everything’s going smooth on the battlefield,” she announced while straightening out her robe.

Before Tina could protest, Louise gave her older sister a quick kiss to the top of her head which was graciously washed this morning, and headed out the door with her mimosa in hand.

She didn’t immediately regret it, even if she had to quickly dodge a gaggle of scamps rushing by. But she did so without spilling mimosa, so that was a win. Smirking to herself, she noticed Gene shuffling by.

“Yo Gene, where’s the fire?” she called, already heading toward them. 

The middle Belcher looked around without stopping. “Oh Louise!” They gave an appraising up and down glance before pointing. “I do hope that I have a robe waiting for me in either dressing room.” When Louise just raised her eyebrow, they shrugged and turned back to watch where they were going. “The fire’s at Alex’s van. Not a real fire, this time, just that the equipment is there and it needs to be-” they flailed an arm in the general direction of the building, “there.”

Louise now regretted coming outside. Or at least regretted blindly following her sibling. Carrying equipment while holding a drink was going to be way more work than she planned on doing.

“Bob why don’t you trade m-” a voice grabbed Louise’s attention, shaking her from her musings. Not that she’d admit just whose voice did that. A little ways in front of them Bob was at a wizard painted van with Alex and Logan, waving the blonde away with one arm and clutching something that looked hefty in the other.

“I got it, Logan, don’t-” pause for straining noise, “don’t worry about it.”

Gene and Louise shared an eye roll and hurried a little faster to the group. Louise shouted out, “Dad come on you’re one wrong breath away from dying at any moment, let the middle aged guy throw out his back instead.”

Close enough now, Louise could see Logan huff and roll his eyes. “I’m not even 30, Four Ears.”

“And?” she quipped back, not having any real backup. Which she cleverly hid with a sip of her drink. Seeming to pick his battles, Logan just shook his head. Louise thought she saw the corner of his lips tug up. But that’s something neither of them would admit.

Turning her attention back to her elderly father, Louise tutted. “For real, Dad, let someone else get that. I’ll trade you,” she said while holding out her half empty flute. The fast action caught the patriarch off guard and he precariously handed the cargo over in exchange. Louise finished the transaction by taking a careful step towards Logan. 

“And now you take this,” she chimed while lifting the luggage by the handle. When the almost-30 year old took it without a second thought Louise prided herself on not cackling right away. The double take he did when he realized what happened caused her to burst, however.

Of course she had expertly weaseled her way into carrying the smallest thing there was. “You were really going to make the father of the bride carry a cd case? You monster,” she teased. 

Logan let out a single bark of a laugh. “You should’ve been out here earlier when I handed him the extension cord.” The twinkle in his eye as Louise reached for imaginary pearls was not to be missed. And Louise thought she caught that too. “This is the last of it though. So classic Louise-timing.”

“Pssh, it’s an art, really,” the young woman boasted. She tried to block out Gene and Alex behind them. But when your sibling only knows stage whisper as a lowest setting that was difficult, especially when that skill is extended to their platonic soulmate.

It was Alex who spoke the question, “Do you think we’re going to perform at their wedding soon?” 

And Gene who answered, “Not for another 7 years.”

“Right, right. In their 30’s,” Alex concluded, referring back to Gene’s ancient prophecy. 

For the millionth time in 3 hours, Louise rolled her eyes. Gene said a lot of things off the cuff, and that was just one of those things. Her sibling was not a prophet, and she was never going to reconnect and marry Logan Barry Bush in her 30’s. For one thing, they had already reconnected now, before Louise’s 20’s. So that was already not going well in Gene’s favor. 

Still, she cast a quick glance at Logan and noticed that his face was just the slightest shade of pink. An impish smile took her face.

“I don’t know Logan, I think we should see if Hall and Oates would get back together for us. If they’re still alive in 7 years that is,” she said a little louder than normal. The blonde had the briefest moment of confusion before that rusty gear in his brain clicked over.

“Awh but I was really looking forward to Beyonce,” he pouted.

“I don’t think we’d be able to afford her baby,” she consoled. Cue the indignant gasps from the peanut gallery in the back, and a confused noise from Bob up front. Choosing to leave the former suffering, Louise called out to the latter, “Nothing, Pops!” Then shared a snicker with Logan.

And that really helped pass the steps back to the main area. Thankfully because Louise was thinking that she needed a refill-osa after that. God maybe I am turning into Mom a little. 

“So has anyone checked on Zeke?” she asked, setting down the cd case and opening the door to the building. Gene went right on past her, presumably to cash in on their own pink fuzzy robe. Without answering, so she assumed that was a “no”. So she looked directly at Logan.

“Yeah I’ve been checking in between tasks. He’s got the rest of the party in there with him for company.”

Satisfied with the answer, Louise gave a nod and went inside. Sure enough, Gene was walking out of the “girl’s room” in a fluffy pink robe and two flutes of whatever concoction they made. Louise knew one was non alcoholic for Alex, so it was probably just orange juice and Spryt. The two passed with a nod. However Gene paused and caught Louise’s attention.

“You’re not really gonna hire someone else to do music for your wedding, are you?”

The youngest Belcher sighed with a smile. “Of course not. If I ever get married you’re the first person I’m hiring. Third person I call. If I don’t dual-call Tina and Millie first I’m pretty sure they’d materialize and murder me.”

Gene laughed and gave a thoughtful, “That does sound like them.” Then they were out the door and waving one of the flutes around, splashing the contents everywhere. Louise chuckled and re-entered the bridal world once more.

Before she knew it, it was wedding time.

[ ch3]